Brothers and Sisters its time for a revelation, and why not a revolution while we are at it. We are in a time of multi-level wars leaving mental, physical and spiritual sores. This is a time to contemplate reality; the time has come to challenge evil. Hells spawns are among us; we must disinfect and learn whom we may trust. They molest our children and pretend there are no villains. There are the selfish that suppress our speech and our votes keeping us silent and broke. Evil cages my brothers for victimless crimes. Demons watch as virus devours souls of God childs. The wealthy get tax breaks, illegals are forgiven and jobs they take.

Evil’s minions wage war on mother and child. Terror and fundamentalist run wild. The cows are mad and soldier families are sad. Shuttles that fall remind of building that were tall. Thanksgiving day reminds me of the Indians and their special way, how did they become this nations favorite prey? The buffalos are gone, gone from the place my native brothers once roamed, thanks to settlers theirs souls have found another home. Gone from the place slaves once called home. There is a retreat in the belly of the beast where broken spirits call home where they moan and lament the world they had once known. Corporations take and run, while laying torch to the land just for fun by way of pensions, loopholes and mutual funds. The homeless fight winter’s chill while the rest sweat the bills and wonder if all politicians steal. Evil treasures warped thrills, the demented breed and kill.

Brown people are caged without rights in Getmo much like those on stop over in route to slavery not so long ago. Rovers roam Mars, while there are my brothers that sleep in cars. Growth hormones mutate the children, giving them bodies like movie stars. The air is hard to breath it appears that industries have needs. Marijuana is wrong but drug manufactures profits grow strong. Gays are on the road to hell while child-molesting priest can’t be found in jails.

They don’t want to work their just lazy. Why is it so easy to forget slavery? Let them eat cake, no even that the wealthy shall take. Boys are responsible for the laws they break punish them like men for their mistakes. Bank robbers are hunted down while pension stealers can’t be found. No child shall be left behind as long as there is money they can find. Oil this planet bleeds, a food source for the addicted and often they feed. Protestors stand silenced behind the fence with a hidden voice of descent up front are supporters of war with a voice at public events. Lives are lost, grow up it’s just a collateral cost. They look different, they speak different they must be stupid and ignorant. The worker doesn’t have time to see what labor laws those with money decree. Toxic waste grows; love and understanding fewer seem to know. Free love has a cost, help for HIV for many can’t be bought. While golf courses stretch to infinity, few playgrounds for the poor children have to serve the many. Health care is provided for the privilege but for the poor children it takes a village. Just say no unless it’s a lobbyist with plenty of doe. The poor stay poor because they share what little they have the wealthy stay wealthy because they are selfish, greedy and sad. Evil thrives because of little minds while good cares and withers on vine. Survival of the fittest as long as those with the money is us. Stop the welfare queens they are taking from the corporate welfare kings. Children are taught to hate and compete against those with no shoes on their feet and reminded that the wounded they should eat. Corporations and politicians are left to stay a float while the others are thrown from the boat.

The police are to protect and serve but for the black man no kind words. No respect just thrown to the curve, given violence and treated like Kurds. This country was built by the black man in service to those with a brutal hand. For many a days on their knees they prayed that one day from this plantation they would be saved. Body and mind is what they gave, the cost to be a slave. The cure to Smallpox they gave and today are still treated like slaves. Education from the bible is what they had wondering why anyone would choose to be bad. Born to die wondering why they could no longer cry. Reading and writing was a crime picking cotton was a better way to spend their time.

Women get a fraction of the pay while bosses pick through the ones to try and lay. Gentrification leaves the poor in a bad situation; there are those that take what they want with little hesitation. Weapons of mass destruction are sought; we know they have them it was from us they were bought. The hungry we can’t feed, farmers are discouraged from planting seeds so corporations can feed their greed with the money they need. Ink is spilt on street crimes but for corporations never mind they will never do time. While malpractice kills there are those that refuse to pass a victim’s bill. Bombs we drop so that we can manufacture a profiteer’s crop. Protestors are gassed and harassed by those that darn the patriots’ mask. The servants hold secret meetings while the people are met with violent greetings.

It’s time to stand and revolt there is no other way to loose the hands round your throat. A revolution is what we need so that others won’t have to die and bleed. Organize so that evil will be deprived of its hold on the people’s lives and the good won’t have to whither and die. A revolution is the solution that is needed to free the people of mental pollution encouraged by media institutions. Better to die for the loving cause than to let fear’s claws leave you in an eternal pause. Heads must be held high demons fear righteous eyes. Generals are needed to battle evil’s minions with warriors of love and respect for the people’s opinion. Self preservation is over rated evil’s demise must not be debated. The public must be educated so the will of the beast won’t be placated. To educate what must be done is to communicate, show the people their fate start with the laws of nation and state. Don’t forget the media and the news they make, this evil spirit you shall have to break. Protest wrong at the gates and remember shit you don’t have to take. Your soul evil will try and bait, be strong and you will avoid that fate, the weak are served cold on the demons plate. Silence is evil’s mate off springs of destruction and greed they make. Evil takes and wickedness it creates from weak souls found on the plate. Fight on through evils vicious wake and on victories shore you will awake. Most important preach love not hate.


As I was working on this piece yesterday unknown to me my grandfather lay dieing. As I read and re-read the final draft aloud he lay breathing his last breaths. A call from my mother came; the voices in my head cried and said don’t let granddaddy be dead. She said things didn’t look good. I stopped and prayed to find myself on my knees by his deathbed almost 200 miles away. I watched myself as we prayed. As we prayed we held hands and I wept hoping there in bed he slept.

His name was John Henry Scott. The last time we spoke we talked about John Henry the steel driving man. That was the first book I ever read. As a child when I read the story I thought the story of John Henry was about my grandfather. My grandfather was a construction worker. When I was a child my father would point to buildings and cities and say your grandfather built that one too. He built skyscrapers, bridges, modified prominent federal buildings and museums all over the nations’ capitol and surrounding cities.

When I got to the end of the book I vowed never to read that story again. My grandfather would live forever his reins would never end.

My grandfather eyes beamed as he talked about John Henry, he said you could still hear his hammers in the Baltimore tunnel.

In my prayers’ vision I climbed in bed and held him while he made his transition.

In the days before my grandfather’s death I lost my mind. I had a stream of conscious that caused me to obsess demanding that I document every line. I would drive a few feet and have to pull over to write the words that came to mind. Now I know that these words in The Revolution are not mine they belong to John Henry and his kind.

Fifteen minutes after I prayed I received another call the end had come. My Pharaoh has fallen.

* I’m working on putting together spoken word events in the Washington D.C. area. I’m going to try and raise cash to help support local non-profits (donations and technology). If this works I’d like to do the same in other cities. Please let me know if you would like to participate in the events or have advice. speakupnow-AT-hotmail.com