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This just may be
the last poem from the last poet
among the poets of last
who first spoke the word.
In the beginning
the word was
is and ever will be
the force liberating
both you and me
from the mental shackles
of the new slavery.
Word up
for a downed people.
Word up! black is beautiful!
So beautiful to be black!
Yet, that’s not enough
least you be satisfied
with the present stuff:
“Yo, what up dog?”
can’t you see
what’s been done
to you and me?
They turned the word around
and made us
the chase and the hound:
what up dog?
can’t you see what’s done
to you and me?
Word up “G”!
Word up “O”!
(Yo!)
Word up “D”!
See, we are the Alpha
and the Omega!
Nubian queens!
Sahara kings!
Africa!
Jamaica!
America!
Oh can’t you see
what’s been done
to you and me?
Took desegregation
and made it integration
to perpetuate segregation
of the two nations that we remain to be
from sea to shinning sea.
Took the best we had
and left us with a deferred dream
well spent;
and a generation unaware
what the movement ever meant.
Today, Malcolm is just a movie;
and King is just for a day;
poor Rosa
Is just another play:
About a bus
driving down the highway.
The word is and ever shall be
the spiritual force
that will always set us free:
the germinating force
of your generation’s possibility!
This just may be
the last poem from the last poet
among the poets of last
who first spoke the word
that still must be heard:
Word!
