I feel trapped like spirits of selves who left middle passage hell.
And held their breath until death was upon them.

Like their souls, I am in between
stuck in what’s become obsolete.

Stuck in lost culture, lost past,
lost in a Diaspora’s middle passage.

Where slavery wasn’t outlawed it was an economical bypast
and this diaspora doesn’t only apply to Jews
Sankofa, Ma-fa, Maat
which one you want to choose

we had a holocaust, the black holocaust
where our people was passed and passed through at a low cost

and young black African boys
whites, Arab, and Chinese
their penis they would chop off, taking away their manhood

leaving our children of today with confusion
and dissolution
conquer and divide that was their scheme

slavery at that time was supposed to be black peoples’ fate
and even today prompted as our fate

walkin around with invisible chains new age slaves
pushing the word nigga into our new age slang
disaster, disheveled, dismissed

from royalty, Kings and Queens
who with the devil the forcely kissed
snatched stolen and sold women, men, the young and the old
the poets, the artist, the mathematician

brainwashing us of ancient Kemet
destiny spent destiny forced
to re-vibe, rebirth
and like nature’s law, we rebuild
with new dances, new culture
new religion, new dishes
how you think gumbo came into fences

accepting all the master’s new scraps
and yea we did that and not only did we stop at that

and even though our exploitation and bloodshed
is what colonialism was built on

i refuse to let that give me a reason not to push on
i won’t be creaming about the white man’s boot

because i know can’t nobody hold you down but you
and i won’t let my mother being a crack head i never knew

nor how i went through group homes and foster homes
barely making it through as an excuse

neither should you
cause like i said before can’t nobody hold you down but you

its a double sided coin
you’ll find yourself feeling trapped

time and time again but we’re the future of this crazy world we live in
and by any means necessary we’ll keep strivin for a better livin

making blueprints on thee impressionable
imprints of life never will be turn from our God given right

nor be snatched away from our internal light
it’s time to get up from trippin off of tangible things

like how good a shorty look in those jeans
or how hard a brother can swang that thang
but elevating our mind to new things

the diaspora, the gateway to this crazy world we live in and even tho
i’ll feel trapped time and time again, never will i give in.