by Qwantu Amaru
Lightbringer
By
Qwantu Amaru
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Qwantu Amaru
Lightbringer
Copywright 2012 Qwantu Amaru
License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each additional recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Acknowledgements
Thank God for the talent, mind and soul.
Mom and Dad for the nurturing, morals, intellect and insight.
Keith Rogers for the vision.
Friends and family for the undying support.
BackTalk! poetry troupe for the movement.
contents
Part I: The Word
the word
the light bringer
mic check
damn poets
stream of consciousness
Part 2: The Desert of the Real
savage
down south
ja´ fui asaltado
the day after
broken home
the truth
hateration
start snitchin’
Part 3: The Life and Times
six scarlet letters
the corporate slave mentality
work shit
the first time
blacklove
brasil
Part I: The Word
the word
it is a means to communicate inner feelings
it is the medicine for healing scars over 400 years old
back when we were told to learn another language and religious practice
and submit to the oppression of racists
we decided to pimp their language and use it as the basis
to create an oasis for our people to find freedom
but the massa’s thought we were dumb
for spending every free hour talking back through the drums
nowadays we’re spending every free hour illuminating the imprisoned minds of the slums
while ceos and their homies choke down tums to calm down ulcers
we slanging their language to bolster the pride of nine-to-fivers and hustling survivors
of this struggle to communicate exactly how it feels
to watch your family get killed
while vultures drink their fill of all the blood that has spilled
and then spit it back in our collective faces
sometimes i think that if it wasn’t for this peaceful space
between myself and the mic
some 1 percenter would be dying tonight
and that’s why i write and that’s why we read
because we need to hear more than bling bling and flossing messages
our children keep getting neglected and our women been getting disrespected
the poet knows this and shows this
through lyrical landscapes richer than ancient africa
we are the scribes that use the alphabet to describe
what lies inside the minds of all the oppressed peoples of mankind
the word is the newest testament and we are the latest prophets
that got corporate america trying to profit off this anciently new phenomenon
making every one say that their word is their bond
and cashing in their u.s. savings bond just to buy a cd
of some spoken herbs to elevate their mentality’s
but what they don’t know is that the word has always been free
and always will be
the only way for me to truly express myself
spiritual wealth plus wisdom equals power
now is the hour for our reckoning and reparations
because the x-factor in this equation is that the word when spoken
equals salvation
the light bringer
i
bring
light
to
life
the animation of creation without hesitation is my mission
through fission i divide the mind’s eye
and remove visions through verbal incisions
sharp like swords yet deadly like words chosen carefully
skillfully
i ride light in waves
turn night into day
making you long for a replay
but resist that temptation
stay patient from midnight until dawn
what once was gone is now back
to attack preconceptions and prejudice
like brutus or judas stabbing god’s children in the back
for fame or hundred stacks
unpack your baggage
and bathe in this inspirational light
that ignites your senses
removes defenses
brings down barriers and fences that separate you from the truth
let this lightning illuminate your synapses
until your shield collapses you will never learn to love
what shines down from above
and below
the chasm between wrong and right grows
enormous in this light
fight the urge to scream for like bad dreams
it’s never as bad as it seems
or is it
physics
like this energy neither lost nor destroyed
just transferred to fill your void with light
insight and introspection take on new directions
when you delve deep within
sin
all depends on what you believe in
but is much easier when the light grows dim
the whisperer works his wickedness
providing yet another test
but how do perform your best
when you can’t even see the light at the end of life’s tunnel
funnel your strength into focus on the road ahead
or are you better off dead
waiting for that final glimpse or glimmer
of light that shines and shimmers divine
the line that connects part and whole
heart and soul
become one
in the light
angels fly like kites made of caring
sharing your experience closes the book
that begins and ends in resurrection
brilliant like total internal reflection
let your light escape and reveal shapes
of analogies and verbs that flow like a stream through me
to whet your appetite for the light
for in god’s sight
i am the light
you are the light
we are the light
mic check
i used to be a shy guy
sitting behind the scenes
with dreams of blessing stages
with my pages of delicious poetry and prose
but i was a virgin
and she was experienced
like mrs. jones
i wanted to own her
and make her moan
just by lowering my vocal tones
but she was too grown
and she had many other lovers
she didn’t discriminate taking on all comers
male or female
sometimes even ten or fifteen a night
and to make her come right
they had to come correct
because she didn’t get butt booty ass naked for just anyone
she demanded respect
and got it
i watched as one by one
they approached her from the back
stroking the black surface of her skin
getting into the act
i knew i should have been covering my ears
because this shit was explicit
but i felt like a voyeur in the woods
watching animalistic instinctive passions unfurl
she was the epitome of uninhibited
and only liked to do it in public places
making me wish i could be trading spaces
with the cat next to her on stage
she liked it sitting down or standing up
cuz she was flexible
and the energy she emitted
was far more than sexual
she was a conscious bi-coastal phenomenon
and no matter who she did it with
her concentration was always fixed on reaching the back
of that room
where i was patiently waiting
for my chance to romance this enchanting creature
like a feature performer
i planned to start slow
knowing that’s how she likes it
because like most women
she has to get warmed up
before she can get excited
and as i recited
lines of my most intimate thoughts
she let me know that i had found one of her spots
and as we taught each other
how we liked to groove it
before i knew it
i was losing my inhibitions too
i no longer cared
about who was staring whenever we got down
i started staring back
and then i started talking back
speaking
like mummified tongues would if you removed the wrapping
she and me were tapping into a higher consciousness
everyone kept telling me to bless her
like she was sneezing
she had me believing that i was the only one
but i knew better
because her eyes never stopped roaming
picking and choosing other’s
enticing them
into taking a try at making her monogamous
the truth hit me hard that for her
one would never be enough
and so we broke up
but we still have occasional flings in different cities
and don’t take pity on me since i couldn’t make her mine
because i used to be a shy guy
sitting behind the scenes
now i’m blessing stages
with my pages of delicious poetry and prose
i know now she’s not a ho or easy
she may appear to be that way from the outside
but take a try and step to her
you’ll see
that when you step to her
whether its singing, rapping, or poetry
you’d better step correctly
because she’s got crazy jealous lovers like me
that won’t take you misusing her lightly
she ain’t no game
she ain’t for the faint of heart or tame
she’s for the wild of heart and free of spirit
so when you get near her don’t fear her
just keep giving her what she deserves…respect
that’s the true definition
of a mic check
damn poets
i’m no slam poet
i’m a damn poet
damned to know it all
and show it all
like a tell-all biopic
i’m forced to report on everything
from the obvious
to the microscopic
shit you ignore every day
i’m the dam that gets in your way
and interrupts your flow
forcing you to grow in another direction
introspection is my weapon of choice
along with my razor sharp mind and voice
and i’m not asking you to agree with this
i just can’t help it
because while you smell air freshener i smell shit
i’d sometimes like to quit or turn-off these sensibilities
but i’m a damn poet
blessed with these abilities for a purpose
when i step up to the mic i make audiences nervous
spoken word has nothing to do with customer service
because i’m giving you the tips
and all i ask for in return is
your attention
if necessity is the mother of invention
oppression must be a kissing cousin
damn poets are like microwave ovens
cuz i can cook a brain in 3 minutes or less
in this life game
i’m the play by play announcer for the peoples pain
damn poets like to ramble on and on and on
we even got our own unique jargon too
this damn poets’ mission is to open blind third eyes
and force you to gaze upon babylon
explaining hidden meanings on tell-lie-vision
but that’s what we do
trust that the fucking time limit rule was put in for you
because i realize people got short attention spans
and for a damn poet
slamming forces you to pimp time
control it
flip it
and drop it like it’s hot
why oh why did you even come to this poetry spot
frequented by damn poets from coast to coast
to me a poetry slam is nothing more than a comedy roast
but guess who’s getting roasted
not me
wouldn’t you agree
that this world would be worse off without damn poets
damned to know it all and show it all
like tell all-biopics
but you picked this poison
you could’a been up in da club
bottle full of bub
people i got what you need
if you need to rise above
ain’t nothing wrong with sex
but i’m into spreadin love
so come listen to we
if you’re into getting free
nas say
you can be what you wanna be
but as for me
that there’s nothing i’d rather be
than a damn poet
black on black rhyme—stream of consciousness
you can run
but you can’t hide
from this vibe
that strikes
like lightning bolts of enlightenment
excitement
is what we
package
produce
and sell
for those that dwell on street corners
or those that reside in mansions
we be planting
seeds
in the mind estates of statesmen and women alike
this and like that ya know
not the phat cat but a blessed black cat ya know
that crosses paths and brings good luck
awakening
like a pluck of hair from the skin
our rhythms dwell deeper within
than simply skin follicles
with each inhalation of this
pure
heat
you
breathe
we dive deep
into your soul
like moles hiding from the light
you crawled into a poetry spot tonight
and got blinded by insight
got you shook up for a while
and no matter how many napkins you use
you can’t wipe the smile
from your face it
though you were once complacent
subconscious skeletons started climbing out your minds basement
the moment these poets showed you
what bass meant
drummed meaning into your everyday life
completed the cipher of senses
now you
hear
smell
taste
see
feel
and flow
like you know
the truth
about the tooth fairy
santa clause
and easter bunny
but it ain’t funny
‘cause we never pause for applause
since the cause we fight for
will enrichen the poor
massage the sore
and even the score
as we tour the circumference of your cerebellum first
and then the world
war
will cease to exist
leaving only blissful utopia
we were hoping ya’d stop by tonight
so you could hear stories about
the beginnings of humankind
and the inner workings of black thought
we’re that soulfood you’ve often sought
but you’ve been caught up in the rat race
now you can replace the long tail whiskers and blackface
and examine your beautiful black face
and love what you see
like we love what we do
to you and yours
deposit this message in your mental savings account
and just keep raving about
the troupe
that speaks
the truth
until our tongues fall out
we give you something
to write home about
and scream and shout
and rant and rave
and heal and save
and hear and do something for your people
before other people can undo you
through
racial profiling church bombings or death threats
don’t you get it yet?
why after all the suffering they’ve put us through
they want us to forget it
and go back to work for them on corporate plantations
picking workstations
instead of cotton
we’ve been left rotting
in a ditch
on the side of the information superhighway
thinking we paid the ultimate price to play
but we still remain
on the sidelines
that’s why the backtalk poetry troupe and all poets are on the front lines
lyrically fighting to regain control of our peoples minds
and if you want to find out how this whole story ends
keep reading the headlines
and you’ll see a story about the time
human kind was saved