A Message To A Black Son
The Revolution Will Not Be Televise
Author Jacqueline Amos
Blackman sons of the African American
Queen shall not sit back and watch my
mothers swing from the trees, it takes a
village to raise a child I shall not be still
and watch the lynching of black pride.
I the sons of sons, the brother of Jesus,
the mother Mary who have brought me cross,
brothers of the Universe listen as my sister
speak the laws of a jewel.
Mother Africa, will not be tarnished
By those who where the mask.
Mother Universe you know has the floor,
Speak your son's will listen as you
Bring us across. We shall now humble.
I carried you nine months,
I fed you from the milk of my breast.
There should be no confusion
Who is the Nubian black queen?
I taught you that man and women
Must be equally yoke.
Yet you live through the eyes
Of the world, when I taught
You that God is the ruler of all,
You sit in council as
You defame my name.
So who the hell is the angry black
Woman? You say in distress,
I the eyes that you have seen,
The shoulder that you lean,
The bread and butter,
When father was not there,
The milk and honey of the world.
My soul has
boundaries, which no one shall cross. My eyes
are flooded. And my heart is lost. I am trap
I can't get cross. As I walk to the light I
shall not fear. The love of you God. The pain
of the world the soul that cried.
Mama black berry baby, daughters of
the universal tribe. I sing the songs.
The black berry baby shall carry my name.
I give you the treasures of thy soul;
I give to you the children of the future.
That my legacy shall not foul.
I the ancestor of your history,
will I ever see the dreams,
of my legacy. Blackberry Africa that
sings the liberation of thy seed.
Oh the fruits of his Garden
I sip of the waters of his tree,
I return to the fruits
it gives me great strength.
Tears that fall upon my forest,
Mountains that sings.
Glory to thee. I rise, above the mountains,
you wipe the tears away,
Man who lives within a prison,
which no one understands,
Victim within self,
victimize by his own mind,
He pleads for escape,
which the battle is within,
I taught you well my son, nevertheless
I wear the shield of woman,
I was the mother and father,
When I stood alone, loyalty is granted
Nevertheless it was not the way you wanted.
But yet I never a bandit you I walk step by step
As the warrior that God ordained.
Oh thy Glory to thy God, I have fallen short of my own
Disregards, but I cry not for you my son.
I cry for I who have been the backbone of the world
When my sons have crossed over, and lynched me
Through the corners of my mind.
Oh what a bitter pill to swallow,
When man turn his back
On the creations of the heavenly father, I the creations,
The life line of my father, yet you close all the
Doors as you take the biblical cord and lynch me
By the hands that I birth in the name of love.
I felt the pain of labor, the deformation of swollen legs,
The taste of life and death,
The labor of love thinking only
Of the inheritance that was
Granted by God. The miracles which
Became, my horror, the rebellious son,
So who am I to cry nevertheless you kill me
Through the corner of mind.
Silence you may say, but my son you an are one,
I woman warrior
Shall never walk through the back door.
Judge me not by the back door whore.
I shall not judge you by the scum of the earth.
I the mother of wisdom the barrier
Of Kings and Queens.
Shall always be the spoken words of deliverance,
Theses words would only be understood by
A Nubian king.
The Revolution Will Not Be Televise
Author Jacqueline Amos
Blackman sons of the African American
Queen shall not sit back and watch my
mothers swing from the trees, it takes a
village to raise a child I shall not be still
and watch the lynching of black pride.
I the sons of sons, the brother of Jesus,
the mother Mary who have brought me cross,
brothers of the Universe listen as my sister
speak the laws of a jewel.
Mother Africa, will not be tarnished
By those who where the mask.
Mother Universe you know has the floor,
Speak your son's will listen as you
Bring us across. We shall now humble.
I carried you nine months,
I fed you from the milk of my breast.
There should be no confusion
Who is the Nubian black queen?
I taught you that man and women
Must be equally yoke.
Yet you live through the eyes
Of the world, when I taught
You that God is the ruler of all,
You sit in council as
You defame my name.
So who the hell is the angry black
Woman? You say in distress,
I the eyes that you have seen,
The shoulder that you lean,
The bread and butter,
When father was not there,
The milk and honey of the world.
My soul has
boundaries, which no one shall cross. My eyes
are flooded. And my heart is lost. I am trap
I can't get cross. As I walk to the light I
shall not fear. The love of you God. The pain
of the world the soul that cried.
Mama black berry baby, daughters of
the universal tribe. I sing the songs.
The black berry baby shall carry my name.
I give you the treasures of thy soul;
I give to you the children of the future.
That my legacy shall not foul.
I the ancestor of your history,
will I ever see the dreams,
of my legacy. Blackberry Africa that
sings the liberation of thy seed.
Oh the fruits of his Garden
I sip of the waters of his tree,
I return to the fruits
it gives me great strength.
Tears that fall upon my forest,
Mountains that sings.
Glory to thee. I rise, above the mountains,
you wipe the tears away,
Man who lives within a prison,
which no one understands,
Victim within self,
victimize by his own mind,
He pleads for escape,
which the battle is within,
I taught you well my son, nevertheless
I wear the shield of woman,
I was the mother and father,
When I stood alone, loyalty is granted
Nevertheless it was not the way you wanted.
But yet I never a bandit you I walk step by step
As the warrior that God ordained.
Oh thy Glory to thy God, I have fallen short of my own
Disregards, but I cry not for you my son.
I cry for I who have been the backbone of the world
When my sons have crossed over, and lynched me
Through the corners of my mind.
Oh what a bitter pill to swallow,
When man turn his back
On the creations of the heavenly father, I the creations,
The life line of my father, yet you close all the
Doors as you take the biblical cord and lynch me
By the hands that I birth in the name of love.
I felt the pain of labor, the deformation of swollen legs,
The taste of life and death,
The labor of love thinking only
Of the inheritance that was
Granted by God. The miracles which
Became, my horror, the rebellious son,
So who am I to cry nevertheless you kill me
Through the corner of mind.
Silence you may say, but my son you an are one,
I woman warrior
Shall never walk through the back door.
Judge me not by the back door whore.
I shall not judge you by the scum of the earth.
I the mother of wisdom the barrier
Of Kings and Queens.
Shall always be the spoken words of deliverance,
Theses words would only be understood by
A Nubian king.
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