Yet every time it is spoken other voices recognize and rise up to kill it.
Shut it down,
shut it up,
lock it up,
cut the tongue
The corner susurrus,
the store front ruminations,
the stoop sermons,
the bedroom supplications,
the workplace divide and conquer,
the hospital segregation/poor drugs/rich drugs
the roadside confrontations/random et al
the thoughts and prayers,
Al Sharpton is tired/Jesse spent.
yes indeed! the Negro is a spoken language not received;
The Negro speaks like this,
I am not lazy, I am not on your frequency
I am contemplative and missing some memories
Where did you send my memories? /Beaten out of my recollection but still stains my cells/
I feel myself other than.
I am Negro,
A Negro, I am not your language, I have my own,
Black and sweet like a berry I speak volumes of juicy pain riddled truths
Negro language has changed from divine black-speak to patois Nigger “tawk dat” so painful
We doan memba di strong Yoruba/Swahili/Hausa/Fula/Igbo/Amharic dat flow from our black
Bodies like oil and glittered like gold and all the other gem stones.
the fruitful red dirt, the tin and the copper
You cut my tongue because of my treasures and mispronounce my color,
Lord, I am Negroman, not Niggerman. Come off my neck, I can’t breathe
Let me speak, let me speak my Language
Those diamonds are mine, you can have them since you like shiny things but for God’s sake
Let me speak my language and live.