love trilogy (...concieved after waking in a hotel room in jersey)

i don't just love him
i luh him
in dunbar patois

love like
lynch-riskin' love.

the love of black folks
is laced with apprehension

we are
civil rights grantees
in urban flight realities

massa still watches
listens at drum circles
infiltrates underground railroad stops
scooping up lost ones
along the way

gentrification paddy-rolls communities
out of existence
project communes scattered to the wind
stealing cultures and communities
all over again

if you still speak the language of your village
you are blessed...

the hood's fucked up but
home is home and
increasingly we are being forced to realize that
we cannot go home again
--at least not until we own the land
own ourselves

we must become
sankofa phoenixes
working thru the past to the future
rising from the ashes
see past/present/future as one

cp time was once
multidimensional shamanic reality

our assets now
liabilities in the face of
the anti-culture.

black love is endangered
hunted for its beauty and consciousness

its strength can build monuments
that laugh at time

our most precious commodity
like the gold of africa
--so plentiful we treated it like
georgia clay
we cannot afford to forget
our worth in the eyes of others.

stay watchful
be wary
wake up.

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