I was supposed to start the revolution. I spent years reading, remembering, and regurgitating DuBois, Newton, Garvey, Marley, Wu Tang, Gaye, Cooke, Christ, Gibran etc. All in hopes that I could leave my fingerprints in the same way that they did. That I could be someone that future generations would quote, equipping themselves for the everyday psychological war that IS being black in America. My words, both written and spoken, would be emblazened on the collective consciousness of the community at large. I would be the real life Dan Freeman.
But here I am. G1 in hand thinking of what should have....could have happened. Folk, I wanna tell ya, what coulda happen DID happen. But it all depends on where you where when it went down. I never got my Tommy Smith/John Carlos moment. So my black fist on the olympic podium became a t shirt and some so called jewels dropped on a street corner in the slums. Maybe the moment came and I was too high or drunk to step up. Maybe someone cut in line.
I'm here to say fuck a maybe. Fuck what you missed, its time to CREATE the moment. The time and space for a true revolution. I'm not just talking about some racial bullshit. I'm saying period. Recently I've been really contemplating some moves I wanna make(those close to me know what I'm speakin on) and its fuckin time. I've realized that I'm never gonna have enough time, space, energy, know how, experience to do a muthafuckin thing but talk. And franlky, I'm tired of talkin....
I'm out
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I thought only my gender reflects.....
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