Baba loves u, Bre'
I am love, starring
me
(for
the late Breya Blackberry Molassez Knight*)
by
‘bro. zayid’
“Somebody’s
knockin at my door
“Somebody’s
ringin my bell…
“Somebody’s
knockin at my door
“Somebody’s
ringin my bell…
“Do me a favor,
open the door
and let’em in…”
Let’em In, Billy Paul(1976)
don’t
ask me abt givin love
I am
love
molasses
blackstrapped
thick
with love!...
even
here in this place
in
this cesspool of contradictions
in
this dizzying den
of
the haves and the have nots
in
this galaxy gateway corridor of promises
and
broken promises
in
this spectacle landscape of cherry blossoms
soaked
in our dead childrens’ blood
in
this place where we are still not wanted
where
we are stuck by circumstances
we
never asked for
this
place of prostituted public education
of
riverfront privilege for white males only
this
place where police became world famous
for
cracking black skulls
in
this place laced with bitemarks
from prudential
abcesses
swollen
bleeding and poisoned with emptiness
all
along our major thruways
of
empty unfinished 2 families
of
shuttered gated failed black businesses
and
of lead corroded schools…
all
so the devils and their parents
and
their fans and their ‘klans’
can
all come and enjoy the American dream of access
rt
here!
rt on
by our childrens’ empty eyes
rt on
by our elders shattered segregated memories
rt on
by us…
flying
from the airport
up
from where 1&9, 22 and 78 kiss
rt on
by us
cruising
rt on by us
on
lyons av on central av
on
springfield av on Sussex av
on raymond
blvd on macarter hwy…
safely
securely…
well
endowed well protected
well
insured well invested
contract
cocky…
rt on
by us…
rt
on
by
us…
to a
booming new downtown
booming
with newly rehabbed office bldgs
booming
with new corporate hdqtrs
booming
with new eateries
newly
rehabbed lofts, luxury apts and condos…
rt on
by us and our big booming beats…
and u
can count on yr fingers
the
handful of black and brown men and women
working
on these booming new worksites
standing
out like aliens in their own city!...
and u
say u wanna bring back the good ol’ days
good
for who?
for
batwielding white men
who
broke those bats on our black asses
all
up and down bloomfield av
in
front of the same police world famous
for cracking
black skulls?
where
were u there back then?
be
careful of what u ask for
u
just might get it…
so
don’t just stand there asking me for love
when i’m
stuck in this rt here with u
in
the dark shadows of those manicured cherry blossoms
haunted
by our dead childrens’ screaming blood…
ask
them who still hate Amiri Baraka
even
though Amiri showed them how to
renaissance
the city by resurrecting our culture
in
spite of them and their greedy bleary eyes
blinded
by privilege profit motive and profit margin obsessions…
ask
them for some democracy rt here where we live!...
ask
them to let us be apart of this redevelopment
to be
the development on lyons on central
on
springfield on sussex
on raymond
blvd on macarter hwy…
let
us be the ones who replace and repair
the
lead corrosion in our childrens’ schools
at
living wages
so we
can buy and fill those empty 2 families…
ask
them to stop pushing us aside
and
outta hospital beds meant for someone else…
in
this gangsters paradise for real gangsters
corporate
gangsters county machine gangsters…
petty
gangsters from the hood need not apply…
in
this bloodied blue place
where
we still live and still dance
from
swingdancing to breakdancing
even
though we are still made to feel
like
we are in the way…
here
in this bloodied brick city
that
we still manage to love
even
though they got us bricked in
between
the rock of prudential
and
the hardplace of gentrification…
don’t
ask me for love
who
just handstitched original crowned glory
in yr
hair at a discount
from
my chair…
and
yr dumbass still think u got ‘bad hair’?...
really?
don’t
ask me for love who limps to open
every
door i can for everyone i can…
who
doesn’t wait on grants for paint with colors.
i am
molasses
blackstrapped
thick with love
and i
know that i am color!
from
my own painted crowned glory
from
my freshpainted blazers and blouses
from
my skirts inked and starred with my own designs
rt
down to my painted sneaker on my good foot
and
my graph on the boot of my bad foot…
all
starring me…
and i
always answer calls for help
i
always get up
on a
limp that won’t go away
and
open the door for u…
i am
always giving always sharing
always
trying always loving…
and i
still can’t figure out why yr dumbass
won’t
try to look thru this shit
so we
can figure out how to get past this shit
past
the contradictions
past
the hypocrisy
past this
divide of opulence and oppression
past
this pained space that we love
that
has us pinned between the rock of prudential
and
the hardplace of gentrification
so we
can see again
be
again
live
again love again
breathe
again…
“Somebody’s
knockin at my door
“Somebody’s
ringin my bell…
“Somebody’s
knockin at my door
“Somebody’s
ringin my bell…
“Do me a favor,
open the door
and let’em in…”
© 2016
all rights
reserved
*Breya Blackberry Molassez Knight
(1986-2016)…A survivor of the hard knock life on the streets of Newark.
initiated at the house of Baraka, as in Amiri and Amina Baraka, an emerging
voice and force in the arts, for our youth and for social justice for her
generation in the greater Newark community…
Poet, Rapper,
Designer, Graphic artist, Loctitian, Entrepreneur, Activist…She was taken from
us by complications from diabetes on August 14th,2016, something she
valiantly struggled with for years…She was loved by many beyond words…
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