Gil Scott-Heron

Back when Eisenhower was the President,
Golf courses was where most of his time was spent.
So I never really listened to what the President said,
Because in general I believed that the General was politically dead.
But he always seemed to know when the muscles were about to be flexed,
Because I remember him saying something, mumbling something about a Military Industrial Complex.
Americans no longer fight to keep their shores safe,
Just to keep the jobs going in the arms making workplace.
Then they pretend to be gripped by some sort of political reflex,
But all they're doing is paying dues to the Military Industrial Complex.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary.
The Military and the Monetary,
get together whenever they think its necessary,
They turn our brothers and sisters into mercenaries, they are turning the planet into a cemetery.
The Military and the Monetary, use the media as intermediaries,
they are determined to keep the citizens secondary, they make so many decisions that are arbitrary.
We're marching behind a commander in chief,
who is standing under a spotlight shaking like a leaf.
but the ship of state had landed on an economic reef,
so we knew he was going to bring us messages of grief.
The Military and the Monetary,
were shielded by January and went storming into February,
Brought us pot bellied generals as luminaries,
two weeks ago I hadn't heard of the son of a bitch,
now all of a sudden he's legendary.
They took the honour from the honourary,
they took the dignity from the dignitaries,
they took the secrets from the secretary,
but they left the bitch in obituary.
The Military and the Monetary,
from thousands of miles away in a Saudi Arabian sanctuary,
had us all scrambling for our dictionaries,
cause we couldn't understand the fuckin vocabulary.
Yeah, there was some smart bombs,
but there was some dumb ones as well,
scared the hell out of CNN in that Baghdad hotel.
The Military and the Monetary,
they get together whenever they think its necessary,
War in the desert sometimes sure is scary,
but they beamed out the war to all their subsidiaries.
Tried to make So Damn Insane a worthy adversary,
keeping the citizens secondary,
scaring old folks into coronaries.
The Military and the Monetary,
from thousands of miles in a Saudi Arabian sanctuary,
kept us all wondering if all of this was really truely, necessary.
We've got to work for Peace,
Peace ain't coming this way.
If we only work for Peace,
If everyone believed in Peace the way they say they do,
we'd have Peace.
The only thing wrong with Peace,
is that you can't make no money from it.
The Military and the Monetary,
they get together whenever they think its necessary,
they've turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning the planet, into a cemetery.
Got to work for Peace,
Peace ain't coming this way.
We should not allow ourselves to be mislead,
by talk of entering a time of Peace,
Peace is not the absence of war,
it is the absence of the rules of war and the threats of war and the preparation for war.
Peace is not the absence of war,
it is the time when we will all bring ourselves closer to each other,
closer to building a structure that is unique within ourselves
because we have finally come to Peace within ourselves.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary.
Get together whenever they think its necessary,
they've turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning parts of the planet, into a cemetery.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
We hounded the Ayatollah religiously,
Bombed Libya and killed Quadafi's son hideously.
We turned our back on our allies the Panamanians,
and saw Ollie North selling guns to the Iranians.
Watched Gorbachev slaughtering Lithuanians,
We better warn the Amish,
they may bomb the Pennsylvanians.
The Military and the Monetary,
get together whenever they think its necessary,
they have turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning the planet, into a cemetery.
I don't want to sound like no late night commercial,
but its a matter of fact that there are thousands of children all over the world
in Asia and Africa and in South America who need our help.
When they start talking about 55 cents a day and 70 cents a day,
I know a lot of folks feel as though that,
thats not really any kind of contribution to make,
but we had to give up a dollar and a half just to get in the subway nowadays.
So this is a song about tommorrow and about how tommorrow can be better. if we all,
"Each one reach one, Each one try to teach one".
Nobody can do everything,
but everybody can do something,
everyone must play a part,
everyone got to go to work, Work for Peace.
Spirit Say Work, Work for Peace
If you believe the things you say, go to work.
If you believe in Peace, time to go to work.
Cant be wavin your head no more, go to work.

Many suggestions
And documents written.
Many directions
For the end that was given.
They gave us
Pieces of silver and pieces of gold.
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Many fine speeches (oh yeah)
From the White House desk (uh huh)
Written on the cue cards
That were never really there. Yes,
But the heat and the summer were there
And the freezing winter's cold. Now
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Call my brother a junkie 'cause he ain't got no job (no job, no job).
Told my old man to leave me when times got hard (so hard).
Told my mother she got to carry me all by herself.
And now that I want to be a man (be a man) who can depend on no one else (oh yeah).
What about the red man
Who met you at the coast?
You never dig sharing;
Always had to have the most.
And what about Mississippi,
The boundary of old?
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Call my brother a junkie 'cause he ain't got no job
Told my old man to leave me when times got hard (so hard).
Told my mother she got to carry me all by herself.
Wanna be a man that can depend on no one else (oh yeah).
What about the red man,
Who met you at the coast?
You never dig sharing;
Always had to have the most.
And what about Mississippi,
The boundaries of old?
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Many fine speeches (oh yeah)
From the White House desk (uh huh)
Written on the cue cards
That were never really there. Yes,
But the heat and the summer were there
And the freezing winter's cold.
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?
Who'll pay reparations,
‘Cause I don't dig segregation, but I
can't get integration
I got to take it to the United Nations,
Someone to help me away from this nation.
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

A rat done bit my sister Nell.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Her face and arms began to swell.
(and Whitey's on the moon)

I can't pay no doctor bill.
(but Whitey's on the moon)
Ten years from now I'll be payin' still.
(while Whitey's on the moon)

The man jus' upped my rent las' night.
('cause Whitey's on the moon)
No hot water, no toilets, no lights.
(but Whitey's on the moon)

I wonder why he's uppi' me?
('cause Whitey's on the moon?)
I was already payin' 'im fifty a week.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Taxes takin' my whole damn check,
Junkies makin' me a nervous wreck,
The price of food is goin' up,
An' as if all that shit wasn't enough

A rat done bit my sister Nell.
(with Whitey on the moon)
Her face an' arm began to swell.
(but Whitey's on the moon)

Was all that money I made las' year
(for Whitey on the moon?)
How come there ain't no money here?
(Hm! Whitey's on the moon)
Y'know I jus' 'bout had my fill
(of Whitey on the moon)
I think I'll sen' these doctor bills,
Airmail special
(to Whitey on the moon)

A rat done bit my sister Nell
With Whitey on the moon
Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey's on the moon

I can't pay no doctor bills
But Whitey's on the moon
Ten years from now I'll be paying still
While Whitey's on the moon

You know, the man just upped my rent last night
Cause Whitey's on the moon
No hot water, no toilets, no lights
But Whitey's on the moon

I wonder why he's uppin' me?
Cause Whitey's on the moon?
Well i was already given him fifty a week
And now Whitey's on the moon

Taxes takin' my whole damn check
The junkies make me a nervous wreck
The price of food is goin up
And if all that crap wasn't enough
A rat done bit my sister nell
With Whitey on the moon

Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey's on the moon

With all that money i made last year
For Whitey on the moon
How come I ain't got no money here?
Hmm, Whitey's on the moon

You know I just about had my fill
Of Whitey on the moon
I think I'll send these doctor bills
airmail special
(To Whitey on the moon)

Standing in the ruins
Of another Black man's life,
or flying through the valley
They're separating day and night.
"I am death," cried the Vulture.
"For the people of the light."

Charon brought his raft
and came from the sea that sails on souls,
And saw the scavenger departing,
taking warm hearts to the cold.
He knew the ghetto was the haven
for the meanest creature ever known.

In a wilderness of heartbreak
and a desert of despair,
Evil's clarion of justice
shrieks a cry of naked terror.
He's taking babies from their mommas
and leaving grief beyond compare.

So if you see the Vulture coming,
he's flying circles in your mind,
Remember there is no escaping
for he will follow close behind.
Only promised me a battle,
battle for your soul and mine.

He taking babies from their momas
And he's leaving
Leaving
Leaving
Leaving
Leaving

The subject was faggots
and the quote was "ain't nothin' happenin' but faggots and dope"
Faggots and dope, faggots and faggots and faggots who line dot dot dot dot dot
Like that, 34th street and 8th avenue
Giggling and grinning and prancing and shit
Trying their best to see to see the misses and misery
and miscellaneous misfits who attend the faggot ball
faggots who have come to ball
faggots who have come to ball
faggots who were balling because they couldn't get their balls
inside the faggot hall
Balling, balling, ball-less faggots
cutie cootie and snoodie faggots
I mean you just had to dig it to dig it
the crowning attraction being the arrival of Ms Brooklyn
looking like a half-back in a mini-skirt
with swan feathers covering
his err hers a it's pectoral and balls
and he err she or it prepared to enter the faggot ball
but sitting on the corner digging all that I did as I did
long long, black limousines and long flowin' evening gowns
had there been no sign on the door saying "faggot ball"
I might have entered, and god only knows just what would've happened

You will not be able to stay home brother
you will not be able to plug in, turn on and drop out
you will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip
skip out for beer during commercials
Because the revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be televised
the revolution will not be brought to you by xerox
in 4 parts without commercial interruption
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog moss confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary
The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Wood and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner because The revolution will not be televised brother
There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that cart down the block on the
dead run
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen
ambulance
NBC will not be able to predict the winner at 8:32
or the count from 29 districts
The revolution will not be televised
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay
There will be no pictures of young being
run out of Harlem a rail with a brand new process
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a red, black and
green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
for just the right occasion
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant and
women will not care of Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day
The revolution will not be televised
there will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Engelbert Humperdinck of The
Rare Earth
The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be right back after a message
about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people
You will not have to worry about a germ in your
bedroom, the tiger in your tank, or the giant in you
toilet bowl
The revolution will not go better with Coke
The revolution will not fight germs that can cause
bad breath
The revolution WILL put you in the driver's
seat
The revolution will not be televised, will no be televised
will not be televised
The revolution will be no re-run brothers
The revolution will be live--
27569

You will not be able to stay home brother
you will not be able to plug in, turn on and drop out
you will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip
skip out for beer during commercials
Because the revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be televised
the revolution will not be brought to you by xerox
in 4 parts without commercial interruption
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog moss confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary
The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Wood and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner because The revolution will not be televised brother
There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that cart down the block on the
dead run
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen
ambulance
NBC will not be able to predict the winner at 8:32
or the count from 29 districts
The revolution will not be televised
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay
There will be no pictures of young being
run out of Harlem a rail with a brand new process
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a red, black and
green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
for just the right occasion
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant and
women will not care of Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day
The revolution will not be televised
there will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Engelbert Humperdinck of The
Rare Earth
The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be right back after a message
about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people
You will not have to worry about a germ in your
bedroom, the tiger in your tank, or the giant in you
toilet bowl
The revolution will not go better with Coke
The revolution will not fight germs that can cause
bad breath
The revolution WILL put you in the driver's
seat
The revolution will not be televised, will no be televised
will not be televised
The revolution will be no re-run brothers
The revolution will be live--
27569

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Mendel Rivers to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
on reports from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the right occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so god damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally screwed
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash or Englebert Humperdink.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back
after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

I have believed in my convictions
And have been convicted for my beliefs
Conned by the constitution
And harassed by the police.
I've been billed for the bill of rights
And been treated like I was wrong.
I have become a special amendment
For what included me all along.
Like "All men are created equal."
(No amendment needed here)
I've contributed in every field including cotton
From Sunset Strip to Washington Square.
Back during the non-violent era.
I was the only non-violent one.
As a matter of fact there was no non-violence
'cause too many rednecks had guns.
There seems to have been this pattern
That a lot of folks failed to pick up on.
But all black leaders who dared stand up
Wuz in jail, in the courtroom or gone.
Picked up indiscriminately
By the shocktroops of discrimination
To end up in jails or tied up in trails
While dirty tricks soured the nation.
I've been hoodwinked by professional hoods.
My ego has happened to me.
It'll be alright, just keep things cool!"
"And take the people off the street.
We'll settle all this at the conference table.
You just leave everything to me."
Which gets me back to my convictions
And being convicted for my belief
'cause I believe these smiles
in three piece suits
with gracious, liberal demeanor
took our movement off of the streets
and took us to the cleaners
In other words, we let up the pressure
And that was all part of their plan
And every day we allow to slip through our fingers
Is playing right into their hands

It's getting to be the time of year
When people once spoke of love and good cheer
Peace on Earth and good will to all men

And we all believed that there'd come a day
When peace would be much more than "on it's way"
Cause peace has been on it's way since I don't know when

And the folks who decide what will be
They haven't confided in me
And i don't think that everybody can wait 'til then

It makes me sad that my kids won't see
Christmas the way it used to be
I was so excited though we didn't have a dime

But that seems like such a long time ago
And I am still a child I know
But it seems like we've lost much more than the time

Cause the folks who decide what will be
They haven't confided in me
And I don't think that everybody can wait 'til then

No, I don't think that everybody can wait 'til then

No, I don't think that everybody can wait 'til then

Speed on by, don't seem to have the time
What about this life?
What about this life?
Can I call mine?

Issues in the paper (somehow I'm not concerned)
Seems that I've been here before
Here before, but I never learn

Children
Slowly turn

Time stay gone, we never saw it go
Now what do we have?
Now what do we have, that we may show?
Friends you swore you'd never lose (melted from your style)
Down the tunnels of your youth, of your youth,
Now you never smile
Children
Learn to smile

Speed on by, don't seem to have the time
What about this life?
What about this life?
Can I call mine?

Issues in the paper (somehow I'm not concerned)
Seems that I've been here before
Here before, but I never learn

Children
Slowly turn

Time stay gone, we never saw it go
Now what do we have?
Now what do we have, that we may show?
Friends you swore you'd never lose (melted from your style)
Down the tunnels of your youth, of your youth,
Now you never smile
Children
Learn to smile

This is just like listening
to a conversation being held
by the many people who congregate
on one of the most popular blocks
in the largest area of black America

Did you ever eat cornbread and black eye peas
Or watermelon and mustard greens?
Get high as you can on Saturday night
Go to church on Sunday to set things right

Listen

I seen Miss Blake after Willy yesterday
She'd've killed anybody who got in her way
Hey look I got a TV for a pound on the head
And Jimmy Jean got the best Panamanian Red

No I ain't got on no underclothes
But we all got to get through this gypsy rose
I think Clay got his very good points
You say a trade bag with thirteen joints?

Who cares if LBJ is in town?
Up with Stokely and H. Rap Brown
I don't know if the riots is wrong
But whitey's been kickin' my ass for too long

I was s'posed to baby but they held my pay.
Did you hear what the number was yesterday?
Junkies is all right when they ain't broke
They leaves you alone when they high on dope

Damn, but I wish I could get up and move
Shut up. Hell you know that ain't true.

I was doin' it when I was a colored boy of eight or nine or ten
I had never heard of Sigmund Freud but hell I was doin' it then
I was doin' it in my teenaged years when I was running the ghetto streets
Now I had never seen me no ink blot test but it still felt good to me
I was doin' it when I arrived in college searching for my degree
But Lord knows a degree wasn't all I got and that's the way it's supposed to be
I hope that when I have kids of my own they really don't get shook
When I tell them that there are things they've got to learn that can't be found in books.

I was doin' it when I was a colored boy of eight or nine or ten
I had never heard of Sigmund Freud but hell I was doin' it then
I was doin' it in my teenaged years when I was running the ghetto streets
Now I had never seen me no ink blot test but it still felt good to me

I was doin' it when I arrived in college searching for my degree
But Lord knows a degree wasn't all I got and that's the way it's supposed to be
I hope that when I have kids of my own they really don't get shook
When I tell them that there are things they've got to learn that can't be found in books.

-------------
Lyrics Powered by LyricFind
Written By GIL SCOTT-HERON
<i>Lyrics &copy; CARLIN AMERICA INC</i>

If you're driving through the country on a lazy afternoon
Or you're watching your children playin' after school
They seem to be so unaware of I know I know
The things that they soon have to take care of

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
Right now they seem to play such a small part of
The things that they soon be right at the heart of


My little Tommy he said he wants to be a fireman
And little Mary she said she got to teach at school
If we know or we say we know about the problems ohohoh
Why can't we do something to try and solve them

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
We got to do something yeah to save the children
To save the children
To save the children

If you're driving through the country on a lazy afternoon
Or you're watching your children playin' after school
They seem to be so unaware of I know I know
The things that they soon have to take care of

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
Right now they seem to play such a small part of
The things that they soon be right at the heart of


My little Tommy he said he wants to be a fireman
And little Mary she said she got to teach at school
If we know or we say we know about the problems ohohoh
Why can't we do something to try and solve them

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
We got to do something yeah to save the children
To save the children
To save the children

If you're driving through the country on a lazy afternoon
Or you're watching your children playin' after school
They seem to be so unaware of I know I know
The things that they soon have to take care of

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
Right now they seem to play such a small part of
The things that they soon be right at the heart of


My little Tommy he said he wants to be a fireman
And little Mary she said she got to teach at school
If we know or we say we know about the problems ohohoh
Why can't we do something to try and solve them

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
We got to do something yeah to save the children
To save the children
To save the children

If you're driving through the country on a lazy afternoon
Or you're watching your children playin' after school
They seem to be so unaware of I know I know
The things that they soon have to take care of

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
Right now they seem to play such a small part of
The things that they soon be right at the heart of


My little Tommy he said he wants to be a fireman
And little Mary she said she got to teach at school
If we know or we say we know about the problems ohohoh
Why can't we do something to try and solve them

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
We got to do something yeah to save the children
To save the children
To save the children

Glad to get high and see the slow motion world.
Just to reach, and touch, the half notes floating.
Worlds spinning orbit quicker than 9/8ths Dave Brubeck.
We come now, frantically searching for Thomas Moore, rainbow villages.
Up on suddenly, Charlie Mingus and our man Abdul Malik,
to add bass, to a bottomless pit of insecurity.

You may be plastic because you never meditate,
about the bottom of glasses, The third side of your universe.

Add on Alice Coltrane and her cosmic strains.
Still no vocal on blue black horizons.

Your plasticity is tested by a formless assault.
The sun can answer questions in tune, to all your sacrifices.
But why would our new jazz age give us no more mind expanding puzzles?

Enter John.

Blow from under, always, and never, so that the morning, the sun,
may scream of brain bending saxophones.

The third world arrives, with Yusef Lateef, and Pharaoh Saunders.
With oboes straining to touch the core of your unknown soul.
Ravi Shankar comes, with strings attached, prepared to stabilize your seventh sense,
Your black rhythm.

Up and down a silly ladder run the notes, without the words.
Words are important for the mind, but the notes are for the soul.
Miles Davis, So what?
Cannonball, Fiddler, Mercy.
Dexter Gordon, One Flight Up.
Donald Byrd, playing Cristo, but what about words?

Would you like to survive on sadness? Call on Ella and Jose Happiness.
Drift with Smokey, Bill Medley, Bobby Taylor, and Otis Redding.
Soul music where frustrations are washed by drums, Nina and Miriam.

Congo, Mongo, Beat me, senseless, bongo, Tonto.
Flash through dream worlds of STP and LSD.
Speed kills and sometimes musics call, is frustrated.
And the black man is confused.

Our speed is our life pace, much too fast, not good.
I beg you to escape, and live, and hear all of the real.
Until a call comes for you to cry elsewhere.
We must all cry, but tell me.

Must our tears be white?

Picture a man of nearly thirty
Who seems twice as old with clothes torn and dirty
Give him a job shining shoes
Or cleaning out toilets with bus station crews
Give him six children with nothing to eat
Expose them to life on a ghetto street
Tie an old rag around his wife's head
And have her pregnant and lying in bed
Stuff them all in a Harlem house
And then tell them how bad things are down South.

A giant eye zapped across the screen,
With tentacle type feeler type thin roots,
Reaching for someone maybe me,
With large black block letters,
Chiseled into the white around the pupils screaming,
R e v o l u t i o n,
Revolution,
And as the eye giant and green,
Sort of oozed with no obvious locomotion,
Closer and closer until it was like this on my screen,
It split and blood flowed down each side of the street,
Washing away things that we didn't need to see,
Just like beer cans peanut shells and copies of the daily news,
And then laying there, bleeding like a stuck pig,
Was a stuck pig,
Get the point?

You explained it to me I must admit
But just for the record you were talkin' shit
Y'all rap about no knock bein' legislated
For the people you've always hated
In this hell hole you, we, call home

No knock, the man will say
To keep that man from beating his wife
No knock, the man will say
To keep people from themselves

No knockin', head-rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white
No knock

No knocked on my brother Fred Hampton
Bullet holes all over the place
No knocked on my brother Michael Harris
And jammed a shotgun against his skull

For my protection?
Who's gonna protect me from you?
The likes of you?
The nerve of you?
Your tomato face deadpan
Your dead hands ending another freedom fan

No knockin', head rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white

But if you're wise, no knocker
You'll tell your no-knockin' lackeys
Ha!
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head

And double lock your door
Because soon someone may be no-knockin'
Ha, ha!
For you

You explained it to me I must admit
But just for the record you were talkin' shit
Y'all rap about no knock bein' legislated
For the people you've always hated
In this hell hole you, we, call home

No knock, the man will say
To keep that man from beating his wife
No knock, the man will say
To protect people from themselves

No knockin', head-rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white
No knock

No knocked on my brother Fred Hampton
Bullet holes all over the place
No knocked on my brother Michael Harris
And jammed a shotgun against his skull

For my protection?
Who's gonna protect me from you?
The likes of you?
The nerve of you?
Your tomato face deadpan
Your dead hands ending another freedom fan

No knockin', head rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white

But if you're wise, no knocker
You'll tell your no-knockin' lackeys
Ha!
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head

And double lock your door
Because soon someone may be no-knockin'
Ha, ha!
For you

(No knock: To be slipped into John Mitchell's suggestion box.)

You explained it to me I must admit
But just for the record you were talkin' shit
Y'all rap about no knock bein' legislated
For the people you've always hated
In this hell hole you, we, call home

No knock, the man will say
To keep that man from beating his wife
No knock, the man will say
To protect people from themselves

No knockin', head-rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white
No knock

No knocked on my brother Fred Hampton
Bullet holes all over the place
No knocked on my brother Michael Harris
And jammed a shotgun against his skull

For my protection?
Who's gonna protect me from you?
The likes of you?
The nerve of you?
Your tomato face deadpan
Your dead hands ending another freedom fan

No knockin', head rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white

But if you're wise, no knocker
You'll tell your no-knockin' lackeys
Ha!
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head

And double lock your door
Because soon someone may be no-knockin'
Ha, ha!
For you

(No knock: To be slipped into John Mitchell's suggestion box.)

Hey, yeah, we the same brothas from a long time ago
We was talkin' about television and doin' it on the radio
What we did was to help our generation realize
They had to get out there and get busy cause it wasn't gonna be televised
We got respect for you rappers and the way they be free-weighin'
But if you're gon' be teachin' folks things, make sure you know what you're sayin'
Older folks in our neighborhood got plenty of know-how
Remember if it wasn't for them, you wouldn't be out here now
And I ain't comin' at you with no disrespect
All I'm sayin' is that you damn well got to be correct
Because if you're gonna be speakin' for a whole generation
And you know enough to try and handle their education
Make sure you know the real deal about past situations
It ain't just repeatin' what you heard on the local TV stations
...Sometimes they tell lies and put 'em in a truthful disguise
But the truth is that's why we said it wouldn't be televised
They don't know what to say to our young folks, but they know that you do
And if they really knew the truth...why would they tell you?
The first sign is peace, tell all them gun totin' young brothas
That the man is glad to see us out there killin' one another
We raised too much hell when they was shootin' us down
So they started poisoning our minds tryin' to jerk us all around
And they tell us they got to come in and control our situation
They want half of us on dope and the other half in incarceration
If the ones they want dead ain't killed by what they instigated
They put some dope on a brotha's body and claim it was drug related
Tell them drug related means there don't need to be no investigation
Or at least that's the way they're gon' play it on the local TV stations
All your 9-millimeter brothas...give them somthin' to think about
Tell them you heard that this is the new word, they got to work that stuff out
But somehow they feel in the wrong way with a gun in their hands
They feel real independent...but they just pullin' contracts for the man
Five and five will tell you it's hopeless out there on the avenue
But if they really knew the truth...why would they tell you?
And if they look at you like you're insane
And they start callin' you scarecrow and say you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks had finally co-opted your game
Or worse yet implying that you don't really know...
That's the same thing they said about us...a long time ago
Young rappers, one more suggestion before I get out of your way
But I appreciate the respect you give me and what you got to say
I'm sayin' protect your community and spread that respect around
Tell brothas and sistas they gotta calm that bullshit down
Cause we're terrorizin' our old folks and brought fear into our homes
And they ain't got to hang out with the senior citizens
Just tell them, “Dammit...leave the old folks alone”
And we know who rippin' off the neighborhood, tell them, “That BS has got to stop!”
Tell them you're sorry they can't handle it out there
But they got to take the crime off the block
And if they look at you like you're insane
And they start callin' you scarecrow and say you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks had finally co-opted your game
Or worse yet saying that you really don't know...
That's the same thing they said about me a long time ago
And if they tell folks that you finally lost your nerve
That's the same thing they said about us, when we said, “Johannesburg”
But I think the young folks need to know, that things don't go both ways
You can't talk respect of every other song or just every other day
What I'm speakin' on now is the raps about the women folks
On one song she's your African Queen on the next one she's a joke
And you ain't said no words that I haven't heard, but that ain't no compliment
It only insults eight people out of ten and questions your intelligence
Four letter words or four syllable words won't make you important
It'll only magnify how shallow you are and let everybody know it
And if they look at you like they think you insane
Or they call you scarecrow thinkin' you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks have finally co-opted your game
Or you really don't know...They said that about me a long time ago
If they finally start to tell people that you lost your nerve
That's what they said about Johannesburg
You ain't insane...you have got a brain
You haven't gone lame; you have got your game
Remember...keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
...I'm talkin' about peace

I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
I had confessed to myself all along, tracer of life, poetry trends
That awareness, consciousness, poems that screamed of pain and the origins of pain and death had blanketed my tablets
And therefore, my friends, brothers, sisters, in-laws, outlaws, and besides -- they already knew
But brother Torres, common ancient bloodline brother Torres is dead
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
I had said I wasn't going to write no more words down about people kicking us when we're down
About racist dogs that attack us and drive us down, drag us down and beat us down
But the dogs are in the street
The dogs are alive and the terror in our hearts has scarcely diminished
It has scarcely brought us the comfort we suspected
The recognition of our terror and the screaming release of that recognition
Has not removed the certainty of that knowledge -- how could it
The dogs rabid foaming with the energy of their brutish ignorance
Stride the city streets like robot gunslingers
And spread death as night lamps flash crude reflections from gun butts and police shields
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
But the battlefield has oozed away from the stilted debates of semantics
Beyond the questionable flexibility of primal screaming
The reality of our city, jungle streets and their Gestapos
Has become an attack on home, life, family and philosophy, total
It is beyond the question of the advantages of didactic niggerisms
The motherfucking dogs are in the street
In Houston maybe someone said Mexicans were the new niggers
In LA maybe someone said Chicanos were the new niggers
In Frisco maybe someone said Orientals were the new niggers
Maybe in Philadelphia and North Carolina they decided they didn't need no new niggers
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
But dogs are in the street
It's a turn around world where things are all too quickly turned around
It was turned around so that right looked wrong
It was turned around so that up looked down
It was turned around so that those who marched in the streets with bibles and signs of peace became enemies of the state and risk to national security
So that those who questioned the operations of those in authority on the principles of justice, liberty, and equality became the vanguard of a communist attack
It became so you couldn't call a spade a motherfucking spade
Brother Torres is dead, the Wilmington Ten are still incarcerated
Ed Davis, Ronald Regan, James Hunt, and Frank Rizzo are still alive
And the dogs are in the motherfucking street
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
I made a mistake