Poetry by EyezaJustice

it's no longer the master and the slave
it's the father who sent the mother to the grave
ripped apart in exchange for the love she gave
it's a bird with one feather flying in stormy weather
it's taking the last breath of sanity before becoming a plundered treasure
it's the scent of terror that turns them on
pop vulture singing hit me baby one more time in their manufactured song
and the orgasm been faked for too long
just to make him feel like he's worth a little more that the truth
and so they cut the branches but forget the root
they'll be talking about the revolution
going home and beating their solution
while the children watch and cry
then grow up and give it a try
and the cycles are burning the flesh of the savior
passing it around and saying here is a taste for yah
so you reluctantly swallow then realize it's a disgrace
but their saying "its you whose got blood on your face"
there is no time to waste on unproductive guilt
we all had a part in the milk that's spilt
and now the children are suffering there is no foundation built
so be a stone cut in perfect size
to fill the hole in their lies
one circular side constructing the temple of the mind
a place where no one is left behind
be the change in the time.

we need your help. the wombin are being raped at increasing
rates. they will listen to you if you speak. we need to be
solutions. check out more information:
http://allafrica.com/stories/200711301090.html