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"The Last Poets"
"The Last Poets"
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"The Last Poets"
"The Last Poets"
название:
автор:
альбомы: This Is Madness
This is Madness Chant/ This Is Madness
автор:
The Last Poets
альбомы: This Is Madness
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This is Madness All my dreams have been turned into psychedelic nightmares with Rosemary's baby pissing in my face and Tiny Tim sticking his moldy penis into my bleeding mind as it cries for the strength to repel the sanctimonious sounds of the white rock group the Grateful…DEAD! DEAD!… are my aspirations as they struggle for a sweet smelling breath of life while being choked by the Christianic gas passed by the Most Reverend Bishop J. Fulton Sheen as he socks it to us in the name of the Lord now… And my realities have turned into a stone figuration of Miss Liberty as she stands on the corners of the World selling herself to anyone with the head of George Washington on them. And all the while he sits on a throne of Eagle shit with DDT in one hand and a White tornado in the other wearing a crown of castrated Black Dicks and reading the non-violent thoughts of Gandhi. And I watch him relax by playing golf with Roy Wilkins' balls with Bayard Rustin glued to his thing while xerox copies of Martin Luther King are popping from his skull. To dream the impossible dream. Knock Knock! Who's there? It's Rap Brown and if you don't open up I'll strike a light and burn your house down. And I see Malcolm's spirit his eyes burning Red Black and Green flames and crying tears of thunderbird wine that seem to touch my lips and make me thirsty for a taste of FREEDOM! Freedom by any means necessary. It's necessary to have freedom by any means necessary. And I begin to hate with love and love with hate. This Is Madness! This Is Madness! This Is Madness! And I look up to see the moon bleeding lifeless white maggots and screaming for my help as the Eagle's raping claws rip and tear at its virginal form. Oh Isis. Oh Tuthmosis. Oh Sun Ra. Oh Allah. Bismillahi Rahman Nir Raheem give me your undying strength to rise up and reorder the Cosmos so that man can truly understand and appreciate the Cosmic beauties and realities of Science and Love. And he has turned the feminine part of me into a sexual freak. Look at her standing there wearing her micro-miniskirt made from the strands of Freud's mother's pubic hairs and her uncovered breasts dripping blood and pus and her lips colored with that anesthetic white woman called Avon. And yet she smiles at me through the indignity of Bull Conner ejaculating sperm into her mind at night in his wet dreams. And her soft wet clinging tears of love seem to flood my heart with strength to gather all my manhood from my heart with strength to gather all my manhood from my lower head and to put it back into my upper head and then to put her back on her pedestal as my love queen and not my sex queen. And I hear my mother's voice rustling in the wind reminding me of the many times he tried to rape her of her Blackness. But she with the strength of a panther, the swiftness of a cheetah, and the cunning of a lioness would not be caged up with the other lies that kept me from being totally free. And when she came home at night I could smell the musty closeness of his body and see his translucent fingerprints on her tired weary physical structure depressed from warding off his beastly attacks. But she would smile that smile of a thousand Black Orchids at me not realizing all the while that the anger of a hundred simbas was residing in my soul. And during all this time my father was somewhere drowning his mutant plastic-minded self in a bottle of cheap wine letting that spiritual catalyst John Coltrane pay celestial homage to that White God who was riding his main vein. This Is Madness! This Is Madness! This Is Madness! And Diana Ross how can you be Supreme and sing songs of Black Love when your mouth is overrunning with the sperm of Trigger. And William Styron is going to commit suicide when he finds out that Nat Turner made love to his great great grandmother. And he has taken our most violent and militant leaders and stuck lollipops up their ass to pacify their Black power farts. And he is beginning to assume that all of us were born under the sign Taurus the Bull because all we do is BULLSHIT! This Is Madness… This Is Madness… All this madness is madness… This madness must stop… Madness this is…Please stop all this Madness! Please stop all this Madness! Please stop all this Madness…STOP!
Это интересно:Alafia Pudim — поэтOmar Ben Hassen — поэтNilija — ударные (перкуссия)Легендарная группа чрезвычайно противоречивых уличных поэтов. The Last Poets блестяще использовали оскорбительные слова, невероятно подробно и живописно рассказывали о социальных и расовых проблемах Америки, а также подвергли широкую аудиторию настроениям чёрного национализма 70х. Они явились предтечей Афроцентристких рэпперов... продолжение
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