Verbatim

Honourable Rasta Brother brings up the sinner in me

You know, my sister? You feel me

You were born with an overstanding but societee

Teaches you to blinde yourself…

Dit was amper ‘n elmboog da, in die oog, ja

As I lean on the door frame and take in

His teachings on soul shame & malnutrition,

He preaches the focus of vision & our purpose here on earth…

He says he sees we are activists, aren’t we?

I say shhhhh…and shush up my argument mush-up

To just listen this Prince of Wisdom,

Blessed rastaman of Muizenberg mind-bliksem

Sure

So sure of yourself, sidewalk headshop speakerman,

To shout us all down.  Friend, is this how

The Jesusman sounded way back when

You know what, my brother? Hear me:

You joining ranks with all them who wana free

My mind while, left-field, give me a cage of similar kind,

Great Cum-load of old School White Guilt, maybe?

Or some other kultcha-conscious shizzle to complete

The holier-than-thou yet brudda frum anudda

muthafukka jizzle you drizzles onme

As you tries to Queen me to ya King,

Assuming I’m confused about great many a thing,

Telling me about good an’evil all over again:

You’re just a different version of the righteous Christ perversions and

the Churchly back-stabbers my sweet childhood was immersed in.

Brother, dig this: me and the silence of the afternoon don’t think

Man overstands challenge of bringing Vagina to a room

Already so full of Holy-Him-Up-High verbatim.

Pure

Rastintentions, that’s what he chatters

With his fish-and-loaves mouth, as we converse on two levels ,

Does he know I can pierce through that he conspires

To catch my eye as he shares nightmares of Bab’lon empire?

Feel I must protect third eye/fur pie, I’m fierce too,

For I perceive his form, true: New

masculinity breaking surface,

(easier perhaps cuz his ego is so thin,)

and right on time, cue: men you’ve been breaking up the world,

heavy thinking arrogant footsteps, sure it looks

Different from your vantage point.  No matter

What your colour skin, everything, every girl’s been at your whim.

But if you are truly Rasta, I say Blessed Be

And do not take this personally.  I just got to say

Queens: where are your Kings - could ya stand up please?