What would it take to get you in bed
what are these countless thoughts
that I wish I can unravel in your head
What are your weaknesses,
I wanna Know
I wanna Know your touch, your taste
I wanna know these things so I can hear
the sounds of our lovemaking when we join at the waist
I want to be inside of you, loving you, holding you
Holding you at an undivided attention
making passionate love in our conversation
giving you mind orgasms
Can you Imagine?
Just picture this for a moment
just a moment I ask
I just wanna show you, making love to a Nubian woman
should never be a task.
But simply divine pleasure, erupting as our cup runneth over
Damn, I'm Just caught in these words waiting to transformed into actions
sitting here in waiting for a reaction
UNTIL THEN ............................JUST Imagine.

someone after my heart

I am overjoyed that I've met you

and thus far you've made my day

my hour

my minute

and every second that runs off the clock that becomes the past

I look forward in every way that you'll be my future.

my carbon copy, my mirror

because i see you in me and it really warms my heart

and when I hear your voice it feels like woah

what an amazing soul.

time and place
are the elements to which
my heart races when your hands
run through my shaved head
as our tonges become intertwined in
involuntary muscle contractions,
thoughts become verbs, fantasies become actions
......you see, I've never been verbally intellectually
kissed in a conversation.
never had the pores on my skin
stand to attention
never thought verbal intercourse
could feel like this
such as your first kiss
such the taste of rum raisin
on a sunday afternoon
where the mood is right
and "I wanna love Yah" is our tune
as afternoons greets the night
our conversations become
manifestations of actions that
can no longer contain our beast within
so we hold each other in our arms
hoping that this lust is driven by
stimulating conversing of kindred
souls, that sees king through her eyes
and queen through his.
we can only wait till the after math.

(dated way back when until I can't remember)

this is when I realize that I am falling for you
in the past week. I can't go a day without hearing you speak
can't go a day with out the sound of your voice
can't imagine not kissing lips that were so
tender, lips that were so moist.
I know these words mean nothing without actions
So allow me my dare to touch your imagination
You are my summer breeze that I long for since
I left my country. When I stare into your eyes
It's like staring into the midnight sky.
Stars and constilations
Moonlights with no verbal communication
Just your arms in mine,
I want to hold you as passionate as no other
so other will be compared to me.
as I would to you.
I want to make love to your mind
make love to your soul
be intimate with the essence that makes
me see in you gems and precious stones.
and funny it has only been a two weeks
yet still when I am with you my knees go week
when you hands touch all over me
when you eyes see inside of me
when we embrace.
I have simply fallen for you.

Silent words

i WANTED TO SPEAK TO YOU ABOUT OUR PROBLEM
EXCEPT I REALIZED THIS WAS NOT YOUR BATTLE
SO SITTING DOWN FINDING A SOLUTION
WOULD SIMPLY BE OUT OF THE QUESTION.

SO I SAT DOWN AND KEPT IT ALL BOTTLED IN
WHEN YOU SPOKE FREELY ABOUT POVERTY.
BEING THAT RACE AND POVERTY NATURALLY
FINDS ITSELF IN THE SAME BED AND CONCEIVES
MY REALITY......... I SIMPLY JUST KEPT IT IN.

I WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT RACE AND POVERTY
CO-EXISTED LIKE SPOUSES AND CRACK COCAINE
BECAME OUR APHRODISIAC IN THE 80'S.
AND IN THE HEAT OF THE STRUGGLE
DIS FUNCTIONAL HOMES.
GENTRIFICATION
SUB-STANDARD EDUCATION
AND GENOCIDE IN THE WAYS OF BLACK ON BLACK CRIME
WERE WERE GIVEN BIRTH
i WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT IT IS WE AND NOT YOU
ARE THE WRETCHED OF THE EARTH

I WANTED TO TELL YOU THAT IT WAS US
AND NOT YOU THAT WAS HOSED, FIRE BOMBED
AND ATTACKED BY DOGS. HAD OUR LEADERS
ASSASSINATED AND OUR MEN
EMASCULATED.
AND WOMEN REDUCED TO THE IMAGE
OF STRIPPERS, GOLD DIGGERS AND NAPPY HEADED HOES.
WHO WEAR THESE ADJECTIVES PROUDLY
AS IF THERE ON SOME EVERYDAY REALITY SHOW.

I WANTED TO TELL YOU ABOUT HOW MANY ARMY
RECRUITERS LAY SIEGE IN MY COMMUNITY
AND BUSINESSES THAT NEVER GIVE BACK
SIPHONE OUR RESOURCES BECAUSE WE DON'T OWN
BECAUSE CITY OFFICALS MAKE SURE WE DON'T OWN
AND ON THE NEWSPAPERS TELEVION AND RADIOS
THINGS LIKE IS THIS ARE NEVER SHOWN

THINGS LIKE THIS ARE NEVER TALKED ABOUT
ONLY IN BARBER SHOPS AND BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
LIKE IF IT BECAME TABOO
TO SPEAK ABOUT OUR PROBLEMS
LIKE IF IT BECAME A SIN TO TALK ABOUT
THE BLACK MAN'S CONDITION.
LIKE IF IT IT WAS YOUR PROBLEM AND NOT OURS.

internalized colonization

repatriated souls
holds whats golden to them
what can't dissolve their resolve
love for the masses strengthens them
this truth suppressed, becomes revolutionary
in the times of deceit
this truth that we consume
is a different food that we eat.
voices for change echo across
third world nations alike
brothers and sisters who are a minority
in this country can't see beyond the fact
that globally we are a majority in unity
it is our blood that built these countries
it was our blood that soaked the earth
it was our women who were raped
and died on slave ships
in plantation fields while giving birth.
it was our men who bore the lashes
by the overseer's whip.
and our original history, religion, culture
from our ka that was ripped
how dear you AMERICA, UK, FRANCE, SPAIN,
HOLLAND, DENMARK, GERMANY, BELGIUM
consider this a necessary evil
then got nerve to demonize my Oba, my Obatala, My Golden Stool
as the works of the devil.

tell me a story,
tell me my story,
teach me about legacies that
runs through my veins
revealing to me stories of slaves
while in the fields cutting sugar cane
let me visualize the birth of my ancestors
in cotton fields, working in the
plantations till their hands bleed.
because I wanna know,
I wanna know everything
from slaves castles to the plantation hyms
we'd sing.
From Nat Turner revolt to the
dream of Dr. King
Because I wanna know
I wanna know, I wanna know about
COINTELPRO and why we only celebrate
this only one month out of the year
when throughout their life for us
it was blod sweat and tears.
teach me about my legacy that runs through
this descendent of slave's veins
so that the pains my ancestors endured
would never be in vain.

on this day that I learnt he died
on this day i learnt that they took him away
on this day in this room where we honor him
there was not a dry eye.
there was not a soul who did not have a hole in his heart
not a throat that did not choke, on his speeches
because history teaches, what he fought for
yet today we all claim hypocritically to carry his legacy
when we don't even carry an identity
was it in vain, was all the pain of the sit ins
and beat downs and blood that soaked the ground
that became mundane. was it in vain?

BLACK WALL STREET

We are told by the media that the attack on the federal building in Oklahoma City, OK was the most tragic bombing ever to take place on United States soil. They're wrong, plain and simple. That's because an even deadlier bomb occurred in that same state nearly 75 years ago. Many people in high places would like to forget that it ever happened. Searching under the heading of "riots" "Oklahoma" and "Tulsa" in current editions of the World Book Encyclopedia, there is conspicuously no mention whatsoever of the Tulsa race riot of 1921, and this omission is by no means a surprise, or a rare case. The fact is, one would also be hard-pressed to find documentation of the incident, let alone an accurate accounting of it, in any other "scholarly" reference or American history book. That's precisely the point that noted author, publisher, and orator Ron Wallace, a Tulsa native, sought to make nearly five years ago when he began researching this riot, one of the worst incidents of violence ever visited upon people of African descent. Ultimately joined on the project by colleague Jay Wilson of Los Angeles, the duo found and compiled indisputable evidence of what they now describe as "a Black holocaust in America." The date was June 1, 1921, when "Black Wall street," the name fittingly given to one of the most affluent all-Black communities in America, was bombed from the air and burned to the ground. In a period spanning fewer than 12 hours, a once thriving 36-Black business district in northern Tulsa lay smoldering--a model community destroyed, and a major African-American economic movement resoundingly defused. The night's carnage left some 3,000 African Americans dead, and over 600 successful businesses lost. Among these were 21 churches, 21 restaurants, 30 grocery stores and two movie theaters, plus a hospital, a bank, a post office, libraries, schools, law offices, a half dozen private airplanes and even a bus system. As could have been expected the impetus behind it all was the infamous Ku Klux Klan, working in consort with ranking city officials, and many other sympathizers. In their self-published book, Black Wall street: A Lost Dream, and its companion video documentary, Black Wall street: A Black Holocaust in America!, the authors have chronicled for the very first time in the words of area historians and elderly survivors what really happened there on that fateful summer day in 1921 and why it happened. Wallace similarly explained to me why this bloody event from the turn of the century seems to have had a recurring effect that is being felt in predominately Black neighborhoods even to this day. The best description of Black Wall street, or Little Africa as it was also known, would be liken it to a mini-Beverly Hills. It was the golden door of the Black community during the early 1900s, and it proved that African Americans had successful infrastructure. That's what Black Wall street was all about. The dollar circulated 36 to 100 times, sometimes taking a year for currency to leave the community. Now in 1995, a dollar leaves the Black community in 15-minutes. As far as resources, there were Ph.D.'s residing in Little Africa, Black attorneys and doctors. One doctor was Dr. Berry who owned the bus system. His average income was $500 a day, a hefty pocket change in 1910. During that era, physicians owned medical schools. There were also pawn shops everywhere, brothels, jewelry stores, 21 churches, 21 restaurants and two movie theaters. It was a time when the entire state of Oklahoma had only two airports, yet six Blacks owned their own planes. It was a very fascinating community. The area encompassed over 600 businesses and 36 square blocks with a population of 15,000 African Americans. And when the lower-economic Europeans looked over and saw what the Black community created, many of them were jealous. When the average student went to school on Black Wall street, he wore a suit and tie because of the morals and respect they were taught at a young age. The mainstay of the community was to educate every child. Nepotism was the one word they believed in. And that's what we need to get back to. The main thoroughfare was Greenwood Avenue, and it was intersected by Archer and Pine Streets. From the first letters in each of those three names, you get G.A.P., and that's where the renowned R &B music group The Gap Band got its name. They're from Tulsa. Black Wall street was a prime example of the typical Black community in America that did businesses, but it was in an unusual location. You see, at the time, Oklahoma was set aside to be a Black and Indian State. There were over 28 Black townships there. One-third of the people who traveled in the terrifying "Trail of Tears" along side the Indians between 1830 to 1842 were Black people. The citizens of this proposed Indian and Black State chose a Black governor, a treasurer from Kansas named McDade. But the Ku Klux Klan said that if he assumed office that they would kill him within 48 hours. A lot of Blacks owned farmland, and many of them had gone into the oil business. The community was so tight and wealthy because they traded dollars hand-to-hand, and because they were dependent upon one another as a result of the Jim Crow laws. It was not unusual that if a resident's home accidentally burned down, it could be rebuilt within a few weeks by neighbors. This was the type of scenario that was going on day-today on Black Wall street. When Blacks intermarried into the Indian culture, some of them received their promised '40 acres and a mule' and with that came whatever oil was later found on the land. Just to show you how wealthy some Black people were, there was a banker in the neighboring town who had a wife named California Taylor. Her father owned the largest cotton gin west of the Mississippi [River]. When California shopped, she would take a cruise to Paris every three months to have her clothes made. There was also a man named Mason in nearby Wagner County who had the largest potato farm west of the Mississippi. When he harvested, he would fill 100 boxcars a day. Another brother not far away had the same thing with a spinach farm. The typical family then was five children or more, though the typical farm family would have 10 kids or more who made up the nucleus of the labor. On Black Wall street, a lot of global business was conducted. The community flourished from the early 1900s until June 1, 1921. That's when the largest massacre of nonmilitary Americans in the history of this country took place, and it was lead by the Ku Klux Klan. Imagine 1,500 homes being burned. Survivors we interviewed think that the whole thing was planned because during the time that all of this was going on, white families with their children stood around the borders of their community and watched the massacre, the looting and all.

across the globe we scatter like pieces of tissues,
as our issues, lay on the 5th and 6th page,
of our own agenda, we no longer can identify with
each other.
our hearts lay captive in the dungeons of fear
so when the revolution is calling on us to take arms of awareness
we act like we simply don't care.
this hip-hop generation subscribes to a mutated version
of what's reality, we're pacified by this notion
that our history began after slavery, that in our history
we have no legacy,

"The West exploits tribalism, sectarianism and (skin) color to feed war, which leads to backwardness and Western intervention in a number of countries. All the conflicts in Africa are caused by colonialism, which does not want the rise of the United States of Africa and works for division and interference and for military coups." Muammar Abu Minyar al-Qadhafi

I just can't empathize with the kids from colombine............

you see, fresh in my mind I see the face of Sean Bell's 5mth year old child.
she was deprived,
she was deprived
Can you see the tears rolling his fiance's eye's?
Can you see police has taken another life
can you see wrongly they have taken too many lives.
how can you justify being riddled 49 times
49 times
49times bullets penetrated his people's car,
49 times unanswered.

as if

AS IF

As if that money and respect diluted our cause
so in our history books we read of the civil rights,
of being on pause.
as if our revolution became the struggle's evolution
out the door went pan-africanisms, in came western tribalism
as if and Africans look down on black Americans and no one
can trust a West Indian.
as if We can't see the effects of 400 years of incarceration,
400 years none compensation,
400 years of no identification
as if 400 years were never missing,

society could not contain us
so they emasculated us
dressed up in costumes of greed and deceit
as if you made us believe that we had to sling that crack
on that corner for our families to eat
desecrating our future, in this capitalist era
not knowing how far we diverted from our ancestors
as if we forgot we are our brother's keeper.
as if we Forget we are our sistas protector
as if we forget we are not wife beaters
as if we forget we are not sperm donors
as if we did not remember once that our blood
lay the ancestral spirits of warriors

and when you see me I know
you assume as if I have been pacified
yet still, everything in my community
you must amplify, magnify,
as if a threat may still linger.

we have fallen so far away from Malcolm X's dream, Kwame Nkrumah and W.E.B DuBois dream. That in our differences we find strength. Africans throughout were and still are being oppressed. Today we find ourselves in a situation where we are the oppressor here in america. The diamonds we buy the clothes that we wear. these companies that buy from, being black or white support dictatorships. Everything that this capitalist society has showcased as a must have was paid for in blood by someone who looks just like us, Black, a minority. So I have to ask the question where is there success?

'I would like to leave behind me the conviction that if we maintain a certain amount of caution and organization we deserve victory... You cannot carry out fundamental change without a certain amount of madness. In this case, it comes from nonconformity, the courage to turn your back on the old formulas, the courage to invent the future. It took the madmen of yesterday for us to be able to act with extreme clarity today. I want to be one of those madmen. We must dare to invent the future.'

Thomas Sankara, 1985

Poverty is not natural. It is man made and can be overcome by the actions of human beings." -- Nelson Mandela

A twist to Gil Scott-Heron

this so called revolution will not be televised
this so called revolution will not be televised
this so called revolution..............has passed us by
while we have been pacified
singled out, broken into tokens
to symbolise our communities' demise
while we blame our failures and downfalls on the white man's lies
why.........do we only see things through the white man's eyes?
self hatred amongst us, through us and in us arise
we look at the authentic self in depise
mother is crying out but to no avail
so many atrocities mother has called out to our help
yet we have failed
we have failed
we have failed
In every shanty town in Soweto
have we failed?
every taste of a mud pie in Soleil
have we failed
every amputee in Iraq
have we failed
every death at the end of a bullet or machete
by a Janjaweed and Hutu
DID YOU FAIL?

a vision but not an illusion. (11/05/06) an actually dream

through the midnight raids, she stumbles upon UN aids
tears roll down her eyes, all this news reporter can see is
a victim of a genocide.
all i can hear are her cries..................can you hear them?
clothing herself with just the sunlight as uv rays beats against
her oiled skin, an off spring lay within.
another dead wrapped in her linen
her grief is unknown to me so all that I have to offer
is sympathy, all that I have are a pair of ears
so I asked, can you share your story with me?
through a translator, I learned she was born of a
Nuba lineage residing in Dafur, lived just like me
she had a spouse, she had a family.
she lamented stories of travelling distances
through blistering daytime heat and fridgit nights
thanking Allah's might that she escaped the janjaweed
with at least one seed. telling ME as tears roll down MY
eyes arise
I awoke from this vision but could not deviate from its illusions,
many are dying in Sudan. many have died as we cry daily about
cost of living when all they care about is LIVING!!!!!

If eyes are the portals to the soul, then lips are the corridors to the mind.

For all those who lay victim
To this foul opinion embedded in my doctrine
I say to you, NOTHING!!!
To my fallen brothers in arms
As we all wrest against the devil's charms
I..............Forgive You
I forget all the times that I've warned you
About these creatures that take flight at night,
in those skirts, those jeans that you saw was fitting just right.
these same women who open their legs
and you become engulfed in a parlor of death
for that time of intamacy there was so much joy and so much pleasure
only to know sooner or later your fate was met by just three letters
and truth be told in this world
where our spirit fights against our flesh
the most noble of my soldiers was kissed by this angel of death
and that day only draws ever closer
where just on your death bed where you about meet your maker
I wonder about the things you'd tell him in your last prayer?
talk about missed opportunities when you did not listen
times when you chose not to care?
And understand that time when you were so young and lively
And you could never think of settling down, because "too much woman
out there who want a piece of me"
And the Lords know how you needed bust because as man we get horny
Tell me my friend, my soldier, Brother with out protection
Did you think of H.I.V.

To My fallen brothers, may God rest your soul