I don’t mean to spit anti-patriotic venom in a land that I probably wouldn’t leave if I could – but when I think of the injustices hidden behind our flag… I can’t help but vent a little. When I think of the high morals that this nation was intended to be built on in comparison to the foundation upon which our government now abides; I can’t help but be concerned. Crooked, slanted and cracked – if you knew your tenement was established on a base that’s become decrepit and unstable; wouldn’t you raise hell ‘til it was razed well?!! Complaining about obvious flaws in the building doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate it; you just want to be sure that it’s built on something that’s steadfast and concrete. You just want to be able to feel pride and security in what you represent and what represents you, right?!! I don’t want some cloth waved over flaws to distract me from the cause – I want what’s broken to be fixed. So America… get that d@mn flag out of my face, stop selling me fairy tale lyrics about how great this place is, and make me proud to be an American-African. Happy Fourth, y’all:
“The Marred, Mangled Banner”
For what white lies lie beneath the decent,
Blue collar pride has been brutalized as of recent.
The truth has leaked in – proud faces now blush in instant red.
The light shed on Iraqi prisoners’ humiliation
only scratches the surface to the depths of white bred arrogance so
This brilliant hatred has long since blind-sided African culture –
frequently unique in signature and intensely infrared.
I’m not holding my breath ‘til I’m blue in the face
for an apology that’s due to my race.
True to his name, Bush flushed crimson – he took the mic and bled bright red
right into it.
His sorrow was genuine – yet, I was quite confused.
Was he sorry that it happened or that it became a read sound bite for the
Hooray for the red, white and blue?!! –
please excuse, but my head’s not in the right mood for this kind of music.
Forget a Francis Scott Key.
His stanzas were NOT for me.
Hypocrisy is what this nation stands for.
The good ol’ stars and stripes
have scarred our honor for life…
Behind bars and in front of pipes,
many have a pledge of a defeatist’s thanks to such a sadist plan born.
We went from being bold Africans with stoles and pride swollen,
To being sold in droves – trapped by men with pride stolen.
Our wives were broken – physically, morally and spiritually.
My ancestors were introduced to the red, white and blue spectrum
with hands fettered, a noosed head and quite abusive gestures…
As little white minds rationalized little white crimes behind
God’s Word and the fake wisdom of patriotism found in lyrics that jeer at
It’s satirical it seems – how they could celebrate the 4th with fireworks,
While they segregated our force with the desire of fire thirst.
Such covert drugs were the replacement for the overt thugs of lynch mobs.
They drenched sod with red that bled from open wounds
and bleached it with white lies – hoping to consume the truth…
The cries that exude from such tombs is the anthem of our tune –
held within blue blood tainted from winced sobs.
A casket, hearse and dirt nap
couldn't trap us worse than that.
Such a drastic curse damages the very seams we sing about in The Star
I’m not anti-patriotic – I’m just creating opposing ruckus
for the system that supposedly upholds the justice…
The one that’s slowly bludgeoned the flag into a marred and mangled banner.