Boss Mode (We won't Take It)
I want new poetry
nothing about us is conventional
Unless the PLU code is 420
Clove honey you dig
natures natural nectar
for which necrophilaics must bow to their knees
and beg mercy to queen bees
for they understand quite keen
that we are exactly, what we eat.
Turnip or beat
We pray for death.
We pay for death.
At the grocery store
So have you found everything you were looking for
Bags or boxes
Bags or boxes
Plastic or paper
Food or oppression
Food or imitation
Factory farms funnel fake food
Like phony fennel fruits
So little brown children forget where food comes from.
What's a Strawberry, miss?
what's flavor is blue nana?
Strawberry is just a stop
on the train
The Underground Railroad
Unlocking the key
Wisdom grown on trees
And hardens over the winter like Collards or calilolou or kale
The yellow brick road to freedom
Is red black green
And paved with Walnuts trees
It's your mind
it's ya body
winning boss mode no cheats
Live it feel it taste it thru
Not blue number 5
it causes more than just oversized
But if you think this is a poem about weight
Well you gon be waiting
Thick lustful luxuriously waiting in the folds of their gorgeous,
in the cuffs of his wholesomeness,
identities of certainty
Thank the gods cuz you cant getallllllthat from surgery.
No This is a poem about wholeness
a movie about gravity,
about breathing living in entirety.
of genocide x 2
It's power to the little guys.
It' 5 on the Black hand side.
It's handball no seats
hopscotch no court side
it's double dutch on the Devils roof
fire burn pon his honeybuns
and demands to obey my sweet thirst
Like Sugar plums
Fairies keeled over
Hunches of oats
food lies on labels
we buy for tables
and end up with ladles of poison for our young
We rest our head on toxins
(Tuck in now baby)
Lather bathe and coat it up and down babies bodies
temples with creams that scream of cancer
oils that clog pores like old sinks without memories just utility
washing away dignity in chlorinated water that fucks with cognition
to push keys
with our indignation missing!
so nah we aint gon take it
I ain't gon take
Slap jack no drizzled down can't hot cake it
erasures of my people in face of prayer
---ancestors forced to believe it---
beat the prayer in and the question out
replacing conscious with Christ and Christ with conscious
like they exclusive topics
in all places proper
like there was no predecessors who knew love.
Like we could only learn brotherhood through blood.
Thanksgiving through thugs
Pilgrimage through pillage
And the Deserts and the Swamps left when the dust settled over the projects
Like we got no access
our activism arteries are clogged with abscess
absent is the advent of equity
too much too grin it and beer
and lick her wounds
bet they'll come up sweet like a coconut macaroon -
or Araugala ruling ya too delicate for a back room affair
shelved between race and riot.
I will write.
I will riot.
Write. I will riot.
I won't buy it. We won't buy it.
You's a liar. You and yo labels you's a liar.
Should be yo pants and not my ass on fire
The stakes are dire
We aint gon take it.
So take it (back) before it take you.
Written Fall 2015.
Learn more about food justice and what fam has been doing at www.soulfirefarm.org