Black ain't something that you buy in a jar
wear on your back, or,
pump in your car.
It ain't talkin' slang 'n'
gang-bangin'
payin' bills late 'n'
perpetratin'.
Sayin' "What it is?" is what it ain't.
Black ain't that growl in your voice when you "sangin' that song",
dreadlocks held together by beeswax, gum,
sticks & stones…
black bones ain't dry,
but they ain't wet up by AK spray,
Cristal, Dom P, & Alize' neither.
Black bones are lubricated 'cause they done been marinated in the blood of Shaka Zulu, Nat Turner, Malcolm X & Tupac Amaru
Seasoned with the sprinkled soul of Harriet Tubman, Ntozake Shange, Ella Fitzgerald, & bell hooks
Seared in the flames of the middle passage, Jim Crow, and the L.A. riots
Black was stolen from the motherland
but not caught
Bartered on the auction block
but not bought
You see, Black can't be taught
it must be wrought.
January 16, 2002
(Written 8:30-9:30AM--In a meeting at work)
(C)HeavnsGirl