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F*ck You

No really f*ck you...

To think that you can put your motherf*cking hands on me

a citizen...to serve and protect...your own ass.

Can you believe that shit?
When I rely on you...you insolent, scandalous bully bitch with the badge or false sense of bravado.
I don't know which...
to forcibly move me?
Tyrant motherfucker. Moved and Movado by your lyrical lies codebook mumbo jumbo.

Forced to prance on point form notes,
and READ THE SIGN THOUGH.
I'm a say it to your face...Boy, gone are the days when we used to pick cotton in your fields,

and smart like a whip,

when we felt the blood trickle down our back...fall in line

this is the year two-thousand-one and nine

not polygraphed, skipping in time...

honey, you hear what I said?

I may look like your usual Moors, Mish Mash some of you, ill-educated call us N***, trash...(but don't get us twisted)

We are too elevated in nature, culture and cosmic status

to walk down your Sociopath,

paved with stones of accusation,

prejudices, murder and persecution, without fact...

or substantiation.

Brother, you are wrong to address me

without being on one knee...speaking up or down to me.

The sheer nerve of you!

Me...that same Moors trash whose ancestors taught your f*cking people how to read, you pratt. Brought your people, out of the medieval to renaissance...brought you to weed,

and took you bitches out the dark ages...take heed!

WE...who brought you spices, culture, food, the telephone, math, calendar, trade, philosophy, business, medicine, cosmology, theology and science!

Disrespected by a rent-a-cop renegade, mistaken image sleeping, unwoken...

caught in a system already proven to be broken.

Force has never won any war...saved any lives, or brought soldiers home, from battle, in one piece, or one casket.

Just always some innocent schmucks head in some basket...

still babbling bloody from the guillotine

...OH, so I said I was bipolar...

And you heard crazy, huh?...(oh...now I see what you mean)

You think you know me because you see my outside.

See me in my darkest moment, scratching at your compassion, while you condemn me unclean...(on the inside)

My dark skin, my rough words, and rough edges...false pride

And mistook me for yet another field n*gger you could tread on

thinking I would run and f*cking hide.

Just another cotton picking big lipped naive

You'd never bet on...

because I don't know the ropes.
At least that's what you're thinking.
Or at least... that's what you hope.

Well, love...

I bid thee adieu.

Not to me of course, but to you, my love, because I'm staying right here.

You're not going to label me or treat me differently, or like a criminal, because you're incapable of satiating mine, or my peoples' needs.

Fuck having a disability! This goes for all human beings.

You DO NOT have the right to shame, judge, right, wrong, point, talk, touch, run, sneak, walk, force, fight, fuck, label, lie, look-the-other-way about any of this shit, when you are playing the same song.

And even so...

I'm staying emotional, panicked, weird, vibrant, verbal, VOCAL Goddamnit! Because it is my God given right to voice, my displeasure if I am displeased, with the measures you choose to execute to keep the man in line...and fulfill all needs. Moreso, if one wishes to invoke change?
Knowledge, intellect and collaboration of ideas is the road less travelled
but effective, nonetheless...however strange.

So, fuck you and take your motherfucking hands off me...

Because I swear to God...if you leave a bruise?

I'll leave you with scars...
deeper than just having your shit exposed on the six o'clock news.
The ones deep inside,
that are bigger than ours.

The ones that leave you awake at night
screaming wildly at nothing...up for hours.
Mind broke with fright
dreams, filled with darkness...
loathing, tears, and rage...
Do you get what I mean?
Are we on the same page?
The Revolution will not be televised baby.

Gill Scott Free productions...

This is the neo-enlightened age.

©️ Inure Muse



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