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Bush Mama
By Kalamu ya Salaam *
i want to bust out
oh, my nerves, battered
vacant eyes torn
like tenement windows
looking out into emptiness
and onto so much unprettiness
some changes
same changes
clothes get dirty
pile up, get washed
get dirty, pile up, nothing
much changes, cynicism
i am locked into
these cycles of
life, non-living
i am locked in and don't
fully understand what for,
what did or didn't i do?
i know i am
not innocent
but nor am i guilty
of this
i must bust out
**
initially i was
unaware, unconscious, unthinking
full of noncritical acceptance
of victim fate
but i am life
and like fertile earth
am rising full of
importance and auspiciously
augur something else
like accountant auditing,
rectifying ledger
amid erasures and clarifications
i am coming to balance
my entries
and while there is still much
i don't know, there is also much
i do understand
i understand drinking
sloe gin into a quick
stupor
warm wine the morning
after
i understand smoking
two packs a day and
weed
when we could
i understand fucking
and scratching and
screaming
and shaking like shit
i understand pills
and iud's, getting
pregnant
and who the babies
will belong to
i understand crazy niggers
with razor hands
and stone hearts
dirt in they eyes
wasting my womaness
pissing it, like used
beer,
casually onto walls
into alleys
i understand dope in the afternoon
a pusher for a
brother
headaches, aspirin
and tranquilizers
coffee and coke all
day long
i understand sweet baby jesus
and lord do i
understand the cross
and crazy chicken
eating cadillac driving
pimp dressed pretty
nigger preachers
with shiney lips and
sugar teeth
i understand lay-a-way
wanting what i don't
need
buying with what i
ain't got
stuff i see on t v
i understand working below wage
welfare and food
stamps thrown at me
like i'm trash and
social workers sniffing,
looking between my
legs for a man
and because i understand this much
i am beginning to search beyond
illusionary lights seeking
to identify the actual sources
of physical and psychological
shock
***
i grow more confident now and
although this is serious,
at last i can laugh and really
smile
now that i fight without fear
fighting is what frees us
frees us not just from external
enemies
but frees us also from our own
weaknesses
a jet whooshes cross the sky going
somewheres
i shoot it out the air with my
eyes
and a thousand rich people die
their made in the usa napalm
luggage
falling inconsequential into the
sea
tomorrow i will be called
a nappy headed terror
because of my growth
and social transformation
they won't want to recognize me
and will claim that i am crazy
and will claim that i am crazy
they don't understand
but i will,
i will
and do understand
i know that
birthing beauty means breaking
blockages
blood must flow, blood must flow
virgins and innocents
never have babies
my children cover the earth
registering ten on richter
social seismometers
we must get down
i fear a war
growing inside of me
do you understand?
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