D.Greaves http://dgreaves.posterous.com Well Veresed. Never Rehearsed. posterous.com Mon, 13 Jun 2011 14:58:00 -0700 THE ZULU: I AIN'T PLAYIN! http://dgreaves.posterous.com/the-zulu-i-aint-playin http://dgreaves.posterous.com/the-zulu-i-aint-playin

Zulu

Yo, is this Mic on? I ain't playin man. Not at all. This microphone must die brah. Forget the microphone man. I'm setting this whole, damn room to blaze.

Because...I AIN'T PLAYIN MAN!

 

I ain't the best, put me to the test

if it comes to that,

I've been spyttin from my molars

since Espanola thought the world was flat,

no breath, no rest, let no time elapse,

my black, don't lack, when I slap this word and that,

my synapse snaps, I eat verbs like they Sugar Smacks,

mishaps, don't distract, one track mind when I rap

until I hear you clap

 

I D'ee be a major Domo,

no need to promo, I've been bad since I was on the Phongolo

swappin battle tactics with Shaka Zulu,

take my assegai, close my eyes,

still it will go right through you,

yo, that's a throwing spear that I used in the Boer War years, nah mean?

No mildew on my mayhem, Amen,

Matthew's gospel is my longview,

Mark, Luke and John, the Torah, the Koran,

once God is with me, no man can be against me,

what are you gonna do?

 

I've been a lyrical genius

since the doctor said to my momma, "Keep pushing,he's a boy,

I see a penis"

I went to Zeus, with the proof, of my abliity to raise roofs,

he let me sleep with Venus,

Serena got jealous so I had to complete the Grand Slam,

so here's the plan,

I'm gonna get diverse, when I converse and disperse dynamics

from my diaphram

 

I AIN'T PLAYIN MAN! NOT AT ALL!

 

I've been a warrior since Nandi lent me Shaka's Sword,

initiated into the ibutho lempi, African war spirit I absorbed,

the records, of my rewards are so vast you can cross a fjord,

with just my old rhymes,

yeah, I hear the peeps shouting, "D'ee slam the Spoken Word

one more time!"

I'm a Prime Time, Fine Azz, Black Mind from the Caribbean clime,

when I feel inclined, I intertwine word wisdom and witticisms,

mix it, and give an epidural to my hater's spines

 

Perfected my style on the 5-8 and Ell-Dub,

was down for the RED, BLACK AND GREEN

but fake brotha's let Beelzebub

kill the Revolution with slugs,

I forget how many dead homeys I gave a Bro Hug,

Go back and react when I see my O.G's hooked on drugs,

usta make mix tapes with my lyrics fanned out on my momma's rug,

preset the 808, take a break, cogitate, then bust a grub,

thickset Terri usta come over, baby powdered down, freshly scrubbed,

ask if I was home, MAMMA NOOO!!!

my moms would laugh and shrug,

regrets, yeah I have a few, but I prayed over the Old D'ee, took a pee

then pulled the plug

 

Yo, I started getting worried when I saw the Zulu

repsonding to slave pressures from Mozambique,

my interest was piqued,

YO SHAKA, IGNORE THEM, I have a report

from the Spirit of Khufu at Giza,

some white dude gonna take over and rename Mozambique, "RHODESIA"

send a priest to fleece ya,

a missionary to grease ya,

I don't wanna grieve ya,

listen to the flow from the poet, D.GREAVES ya

 

I AIN'T PLAYIN MAN! NOT AT ALL!

 

Damn! Shaka didn't listen and allowed European incursion,

history is told by those who achieve victory,

you can only read HIS version,

I shake my head and go to the Sacred waters for immersion,

not a conversion, but an exertion of my pro-Asiatic assertions,

I saw with aversion, the dispersion,

the perversion, the subversion, of every African person,

it didn't get better, it worsened,

but it wasn't all the white man, it was also sub-Saharan coercion

 

Yeah, I learned to freestyle over break beats

from the Godfather, James Brown and Dennis Coffey,

I had 7 books in my backpack munchin on a vanilla cone

with sprinkles from Mr.Softee,

had bile in my stomach from too many malt likka sprees,

still, I smile and stroke my goatee, when I recall the memory,

of intersecting at conjunctions, making verbs and nouns fit snugly,

WILD STYLE AND BEAT STREET, were the double feature

at the movie,

can't you see a little D'ee, tapping his shell toes,

mentally inventing new rap similes

 

Closed my eyes and I could see the Afrikaans having the Zulu

in a kraal,

the Portugese called it a curral,

the Americans called it a corral,

penned like livestock, because the Original forgot,

He and she were the FIRST and foremost host of the Creator,

now, even the African-Americans are like grids on an iron

getting trampled by Oakland Raiders,

get a calculator, how many invaders

killed at will and forced neighbor  to kill neighbor

 

I AIN'T PLAYIN! NOT AT ALL!

 

FROM KNEE-LOW

TO NEGRO,

AFRO SHEEN AND AFROS,

EVERY BROTHER AINT A BRO,

SOME ARE BLACK CROWS,

SPREADING GOSSIP TOO AND FRO,

WHO SHOT YA?

MAN. WHO KNOWS,

COULD BE THE CATS WHO BLASTED MALCOLM

FROM THE 3RD ROW,

BULLETS OVER BROADWAY, THE SKY DAY GLOW,

WITH TRACERS,

BLACK MAN ERASERS,

TAZERS,

"X" MARKS THE SPOT WITH A RED LASER,

DAMN. I HATE SLAVERS,

YO, DO ME A FAVOR,

LEND ME A RAZOR,

SO I CAN SLIT MY WRISTS,

I WOULD RATHER DIE STILL RAISING MY BLACK FIST,

SHOUTING "POWER TO THE PEOPLE"

UNTIL I CAN'T RESIST...DEATH

 

Yeah, BLAZE IN THE ROOM,

mic: gone

stage: gone

roof: GONE!

THE ZULU, TOLD Y'ALL I WASN'T PLAYIN MAN!

peace..I'm out.

All Poetry by D.Greaves/Darwin Greaves by D.Greaves-Darwin Greaves is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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Fri, 29 Apr 2011 05:51:00 -0700 HARLEM BELLE http://dgreaves.posterous.com/harlem-belle http://dgreaves.posterous.com/harlem-belle

Harlem

here i am

lounging at mabels

plate of grits on the table

lightly salted and buttered

bacon and biscuits on the side

now i am sho nuff proud

of fighting for my country

but truth be told

right now

all i want to do is hide

 

dear president truman

hello

you dont know me

but i am a mello fellow

im ready to rejoin the army

but before some german soldier

harms me

i would like you to take a moment or two

this war i know is a mighty fine mess

you cant undo

but i would like to kiss my baby 

one last time before i bid her adieu

 

my sweet little lady

her name is sadie

and mr president she is so classy and fine

and before  i am shipped back over

i dont want to skip over

sharing her kisses one last time

 

last night i had a dream

of three babies cryin

madam zemelda dream book

says that means its a time for dyin

now i dont know if that true

but just in case

i played boxed and straight

the number 232

 

down on lenox avenue

snow is falling

at mintons and the 3 deuces

the bandstands are bare

but bird and miles  could be playin

the room could be swayin

but i wouldnt  really care

 

just so you know mr president

right now harlem is quiet

aint no riots

going on except the one in my heart

i aint trying to be  contrary

just feel its kinda necessary

i need only 3 more days with my baby

before i depart

 

you see sir

we fittin to get married

i dont mean to sound harried

but could you sent out a call

to hitler and tell him

for a few days stop his march

i know what im asking is a sin

being as though them bad men

are smokin cigs under the french arch

 

mr  truman

im not assuming

i know love is blooming

way up here uptown

and i dont want my baby to remember

a letter stamped return to sender

because her man aint no longer around

 

now i want to live

but im prepared to die

for my country

and colored folks liberty

but can i at least insist

on sharing with my baby

one last kiss

before i step back into that european  anarchy

 

now mr president

far as i can tell

up here i aint neva seen 

no wishing well

fact is

right now i wish  i had a 5th of muscatel

because maybe if i was drinkin

i wouldnt be thinkin

of dyin before i have the chance

to marry my harlem belle

 

All Poetry by D.Greaves/Darwin Greaves by D.Greaves-Darwin Greaves is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at dgreaves.posterous.com.
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