creator,

don’t give me the power of a coward wisdom of a fool

give me the power of a warrior wisdom of an elder 2 fight for freedom

give me the power and courage

for when the oppressor sentences me 2 death for my eyes 2 remain open

when he swings the sword

to die in honor than 2 live a life of shame

please help mold me

so my struggle will be just

cut down and kill all my weaknesses

let my vision be the strength for a new humanity

death before dishonor

my soul stands above mortal man i am a warrior

an afrikan warrior

who walks among the gods

will not lay with the devil

i carry the tools of the revolution work, study and a rifle

i strive for land

the basis of all independence

have no time for scandalous niggers who can’t bring about change

have no time for the club that can’t bring about change

have no time for clown niggers who can’t bring about change

i study how 2 take life

in order 2 bring forth life

i study destructiyon for instruction

you see, man has lost his ethics and virtues the only language he understands is 2 take by hand, by knife and gun

so i build my mind and body

so others will know

the only taking will be done by me

i realize my road is death my road is victory

i stand and look within 2 the creator

some elders say

‘the way of the warrior is death”

if so, let me die an afrikan warrior.

Your mama so black 

Your mama so black 

Your mama so black

She’s beautiful 

1

Your mama so black

She’ll fight the bloods and crips

Your mama so black

She’ll fight the nypd

Your mama so black

She’ll laugh 

When they read her rights

Your mama so black

Anyone harm her children 

Your mama so black 

Your stomach 

Never knew hunger

Your mama so black

U never believed Santa

down a chimney 

Your mama so black

Your pops called her a bitch

 she ate it

Your mama so black

Your woman is black

who is the man in your eyes with the gun your creator of pain

the reason behind not loving me

not wanting 2 be loved

you cry at the same time each night

call out his name when you’re holding me sister, i understand

understand that he is gone and you must let go

who is the man in your eyes with the gun do you love him more than me

tell me, sister

tell me about this man

(widow speaking:)

see, i remember him more than god

he laid his pain on my lap and laughed

it was wrapped in my husband’s blood-stained shirt

his blood gripped around his body not wanting 2 let go god cries every time i speak my pain

i never had a chance 2 hold my fiancé

2 say i love you one last time

the gun hugged him, kissed him on his forehead

his heart, his stomach, and had an orgy on his body made passionate love and he came blood

i never had a chance 2 really get 2 know his strengths 2 learn his faults

my memory of him is incomplete

all i remember is his savior who used his gun as a cross forced me 2 walk into hell

god, have you fallen in love with him yet?

has his smile made u smile

does he tell you jokes that make you laugh all night are you happy now that you took him from me

his children still wait for the sound of his keys

for him 2 talk of his pains

so they can snatch them and change them into love

“when is papa

coming home,” they ask and i say, “never”

he’s talking 2 god now

he has a new home

and they cry tears that yell louder than their father’s screams

so who is this man in my eyes with the gun?

it’s my fiancé’s savior

the one who makes his family cry at 10:45 pm every night they say he is only 19

my fiancé was only 25

and i will cry the rest of my life.

silver bracelets lock afrikans killed returned 2 living hell

as i walk thru the valley of death

i can hear the laughter

see the gossip being yelled from open windows ms. so-and-so’s son has fallen

fallen from perfection, as they see it

their cracker god gave me twenty-five-2-life each day is a blow 2 my soul

each day, i forget the purpose of living

this is where afrikan screams, yells can be heard as men jerk their dicks

waiting for that reminder of loved ones young victims are made into bitches that suck dick and cry at the same time i hear their yells and shiver

how many times can a man die?

each day is a new death

each midnight is when they pronounce me dead Jesus does not hang on my walls

i killed him

every time i needed someone 2 release my pain on i stabbed him in my mind

‘til jah could not take no more and pulled me away

i see her face

a loved one i will never see again her letters 2 me are kidnapped

and molested by the prison guards by the time i touch them,

they are not pure no more

your love has died

all that remains are words that curse me speak of my son who will never touch me who dies in my mind everyday

his tears from his face have disappeared,

i wonder why

all i can do is cry

as my cell mate’s bed squeaks

and he moans like a billie holiday record

i look 2 the ceiling and see my executioner i see the seconds stand there and smile

i try 2 picture in my mind

ways i could have changed them

and hid them,

change time

death kicks my dream 2 the ground

as the executioner places silver bracelets on my hand

seconds laugh

so now everyday becomes a struggle every morning i see the same walls

i pray for the end of the world

so i can escape my death

people ask me,

“do you feel any pain, any shame for killing him”

i say,

“you was not there when they trained me 2 be a killer, all you can see is my victim’s pain”

society laughs,

they blame their crimes on me

2 blame the cracker is a crime they blame me for

tears formed in my eyes,

they never fall

when i hear my victim’s screams

for some reason when i pulled the trigger it was meant 2 be

i bathed in his blood

and looked into his lover’s eyes

and saw that i would be remembered more than him i became equal 2 Jah

i became equal 2 Jesus

i became the one thing his widow could touch

her living dream

i brought my pain and laid it at her lap when i killed him

so now i walk thru living hell and fear no evil when i close my eyes,

i see children crying in dark churches mothers dressed in black

looking out windows for their loved ones 2 come home fathers at bars cursing my name

i open my eyes and see saviors

men who will never be forgotten

i’m the one Malcolm never touched, Martin never saw,

Jesus never had hope for

am i a victim

or a man who runs thru the street looking for someone 2 blame

i don’t know

each day becomes darker and darker until i can’t see but hear screams that get louder and louder

i finally realize it’s me

i’m only 19

19 years old

serving twenty-five-2-life.