Hands Up, Don’t shoot!
Bang bang you’re dead.
A 500 year old bullet just blew apart your head.
Your present, your past, your possibilities.
Was it really such a good idea to go down on your knees,
Begging please Massa please,
We’re human beings.
You begged them once,
You’ve begged them twice,
Haven’t you learnt they don’t do ‘nice’.
Meanwhile you internalize their hate like a battered wife.
This time he’ll change, if not you’ll carry the blame.
What could you have done better, written a more strongly worded letter,
Designed a more hard hitting poster.
You marched across the square preaching their rainbow tribe vision,
when the dust settled and tear gas cleared yours was the only colour in prison.
You struggle to face the fact that your protests really don’t matter,
your head will be served on a platter, whatever.
You’re still on the plantation
If you believe you can reverse this racist nation.
Re-education, do it for yourself,
Re-direct your focus on your own internal wealth.
Look them in the eye and tell them no lie,
If they lay hands on you they die.
Reciprocity in the face of animosity,
Hit me once I’ll strike you twice,
Let them keep their GM menu
You’re coming with brown rice.
A militia armed with self knowledge,
Rooted in racial pride and courage.
Hands up, don’t shoot!
It’s too late to shut the gate,
The white horse has bolted,
He’s stampeding through your town,
Wise up, you’re gonna have to put
This rabid stallion down.
You’re gonna have to cross the line,
That 500 year mark in the sand,
The one that left you in no man’s land
And educated you to misunderstand.
Revolution is the solution,
But not when it speaks with Liberal elocution.
Like Malcolm said “it’s about bloodshed’
And yours is already on the ground.
So get up, stand up and keep your hands down.
Keep hold of your brother, your sister,
don’t let their intellectuals spin you around.
The lamb doesn’t seek respect from the wolf
whose only concern is to make it his meal.
We’re gonna have to come together,
And get clever,
And get real.