I heard not the cries from Baltimore,
The infant’s moan, the beggar’s plea,
Nor saw the face, the open hand,
Nor aged despair, not meant to be.
You tell me we’re not to blame,
Speak words to please the dead,
Words that rise from beds of shame,
No, speak what must be said.
A dark abyss now fills our eyes
A cave that knows no life,
A wasting soul inside us dies,
Bitter fruit gives birth to strife.
There is no hope with acts unkind,
Corrupted hearts can only fear,
The years to come and what they’ll find,
And if it be their final tear,
And what are eyes that beam black light
That cannot see the common good?
Does blindness ever lead to sight,
Did we dare think it could?
False words fill the phoney news,
Their pictures make the heavens shake,
We gorge on hate and deaths-head views
And gladly kill for killing’s sake.
We live beyond humanity,
We are life become machine,
Reduced to drugged insanity,
To a Tarantino scene.
Give us not the cops’ death lust,
Justice is our hope,
Not slavery, nor profits’ dust,
Nor prayers they throw as rope.
I heard not the protests of the damned,
“Til my voice in theirs I heard,
That called out for a rightful land
Where people have the word.
The justice tree from one seed grows,
Yet shelters all within her shade,
And through its leaves a new wind blows
That comrades has us made,
So raise your fists, and raise your voice,
There’s a struggle to be won,
So on the street and on your feet,
‘Til the tyrants’ day is done.
Originally published on One Voyce Of The World
