Μια από τις ψηλότερες κορυφές που έχει αγγίξει η rap έκφραση: Οι Last Poets (Umar Bin-Hassan και Abiodun Oyeole) επί σκηνής μαζί με τον Pharoah Sanders. Ενα μήνυμα από τη δεκαετία του ’60 εξαιρετικά επίκαιρο για τη χρονιά που έρχεται…
Οι στίχοι:
This Is Madness
All my dreams have been turned Into psychedelic nightmares With Rosemary’s Baby Pissing in my face
AndTiny i smtickinghismoldypenis Into my bleeding mind As it cries for the strength To repel the sanctimonious sound
Of the white rock group The Grateful dead
Dead are my aspirations
As they struggle for a free sweet
Smelling breath of life
Freedom Freedom by any means necessary It’s necessary to have freedom By any means necessary And I began to hate with love and love with hate
This is madness! This is madness! This is madness!
And I look up and see the moon Bleeding lifeless white maggots And screaming for my help As the eagle’s raping claws
Rip and tear at its virginal form
W-h-ile being choked by the Christianic gas
Passed by the Most-Reverend
Oh, Isis! Oh,SunRa!
Oh,Allah!
Oh,Tuthmosis!
Ashesocksittous
ish
Ooh,inthenameoflordnow And my realities have turned Into a stone figuration Of Miss Liberty
or
Bismillah-hir-Rahman-Nir-Raheem! Give me your undying strength to rise up And reorder the cosmos So that man can truly understand And appreciate the cosmic beauties
And realities of science and love
And he has turned the feminine part of me Into a sexual freak Look at her standing there Wearing her micro mini skirt
Made from the strands
Of Freud’s mother’s pubic hairs And her uncovered breast dripping
As she stands on the comers of the world Selling herself To anyone with the head Of George Washington on them
And all the while he sits on A throne of eagle shit With DDT in one hand And a white tomato in the other Wearing the crown of castrated black dicks And reading the non-violent thoughts of Gandhi And I watch him relax by playing golf
It’s Rap Brown and if you don’t open up I’ll
With Boy Wilkins’ balls
Blood and pus And her lips coloured with that anaesthetic White woman Called Avon But yet she smiles at me Through the indignity of Dull Corner
Ejaculating sperm into hem ind
With B–.aynard Rusty glued to his thing While Xerox copies of Martin Luther King Are popping from his skull (To dream the impossible dream)
Knock, knock, who’s there?
finger-fucking
strike a light
And entall her at night In his wet dreams And her soft wet clinging tears of love Seemed to flood my heart with strength To gather all my manhood
From my lower head And to put it back into my upper head And then to put her back
And bum your house down And I see Malcolm’s spirit His eyes burning red, black and green flames And crying tears of Thunderbird wine That seem to touch my lips And make me become thirsty for a taste of
On her pedestal as my love queen And not my sex queen And I hear my mother’s voice Whispering in the wind Reminding me of the many times He tried to rape her of her blackness But she with the strength of a panther The swiftness of a cheetah
And the cunning of a lioness Could not be caged up With the other lies That kept me from being totally free And when she came home at night
I could smell the musty closeness of his body And see his translucent fingerprints On her tired weary physical structure Depressed from warding off
His beastly attacks But she would smile The smile of a thousand black orchids at me
Not realizing all the while That the anger of a thousand simbas Was residing in my soul And during all this time My father Was somewhere Drowning his mutant plastic minded self In a bottle of cheap wine And letting that spiritual catalyst John Coltrane Pay celestial homage To that white god Who was driving his main vein
This is madness! This is madness! All this madness is madness! This madness is madness! Stop all this madness! Please, stop all this madness! Please, stop all this madness! Please, stop all this madness!
STOP
