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Juke Joint

Now liquor stores form choirs, choirs of Black Men singing
solo, so high they had been
reminiscing on great migrations on the Mississippi, here
they had been promised food, shelter, clothing, money]
and friends in all walks of life
leaving the church they became this, not all but some have
stop signs on their heads staring at cars seeking the
Saviour that will take them from all this...

Black Women in their daily routine bend time and are inspired
to self damnation, Viacom via B.E.T. promising a new type of blues which they exchange their souls
for
as did the men they forgot down south and
cotton fields, things the Rollings Stones sing about
in every other song...

Moonshine poured out for ex-slaves moonshine extinguishing the
sunshine in our spirit. I have held my brother's hand
in my dreams for I remember the blues
and Mama Afrika, I have kissed my sister's hand in my dreams
for I remember what Hip-Hop is supposed to be; the reflection of moments
forgotten;
the aspiration of things
present;
the premonition of things to come

How desperately we need for prophets with bottlenecks
on their fingers, how exasperating our cry for redemption
songs, dread-locked priests their minds twisted in wonderful
serpentine form toward revolt, rebellion and responsibility
the response to the call answered by sable and chocolate children
whose only need will be to pop lock guns and drop angry metal
at the oppressor...

head-cutting, head-cutting I finger-lick southern pines into solid spears
I take Zulu stance in B-Boy poses, we need a back to Afrika Bambataa movement,
we shall no longer hide but display ourselves pretty in Red, Black and Green garments
we have been saving for just the right occasion.

(Head-cutting:an old Blues musician's term for a challenge to another blues musician. Any and all references to oppressors just might be coincidental!)

Learn more about this author, Majadi Baruti.
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