April
Is National Poetry Month!
This
brother was a professional revolutionary, The Minister of Information
of the Bronx Chapter of the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense. He
dedicated his life to the liberation of black people. His work shall
live on and on and on.
ZAYD
MALIK SHAKUR
A PROFESSIONAL REVOLUTIONARY
“A Revolutionary Is A Professional, So You Must Be A Professional Revolutionary”
I may – if you wish – lose my livelihood
I may sell my shirt and bed
I may work as a stone-cutter
A street sweeper
a porter
I may clean your stores
Or rummage your garbage for food
I may lay down hungry
O enemy of the Sun
But
I shall not compromise
And to the last pulse in my veins
I shall resist
You may take the last strip of my land
Feed my youth to prison cells
You may plunder my heritage
You may burn my books
my poems
Or feed my flesh to the dogs
You may spread a web of terror
On the roofs of my village
O Enemy of the Sun
But
I shall not compromise
And to the last pulse in my veins
I shall resist
You may put out the light in my eyes
You may deprive me of my mother’s kisses
You may curse my father
my People
You may distort my history
You may deprive my children of a smile
And of life’s necessities
You may fool my friends with a borrowed face
You may build walls of hatred around me
You may glue my eyes to humiliations
O Enemy of the Sun
But
I shall not compromise
And to the last pulse in my veins
I shall resist
O Enemy of the Sun
The decorations are raised at the port
The ejaculations fill the air
A glow in the hearts
And in the horizon
A sail is seen
Challenging the wind
And the depths
It is Field Marshall Dedan Kamathi (Mau Mau)
Returning home
From the sea of loss
It is the return of the Sun
Of my exiled ones
And for her sake
and his
I swear
I shall not compromise
And to the last pulse in my veins
I shall resist
Resist–and resist
A PROFESSIONAL REVOLUTIONARY
“A Revolutionary Is A Professional, So You Must Be A Professional Revolutionary”
I may – if you wish – lose my livelihood
I may sell my shirt and bed
I may work as a stone-cutter
A street sweeper
a porter
I may clean your stores
Or rummage your garbage for food
I may lay down hungry
O enemy of the Sun
But
I shall not compromise
And to the last pulse in my veins
I shall resist
You may take the last strip of my land
Feed my youth to prison cells
You may plunder my heritage
You may burn my books
my poems
Or feed my flesh to the dogs
You may spread a web of terror
On the roofs of my village
O Enemy of the Sun
But
I shall not compromise
And to the last pulse in my veins
I shall resist
You may put out the light in my eyes
You may deprive me of my mother’s kisses
You may curse my father
my People
You may distort my history
You may deprive my children of a smile
And of life’s necessities
You may fool my friends with a borrowed face
You may build walls of hatred around me
You may glue my eyes to humiliations
O Enemy of the Sun
But
I shall not compromise
And to the last pulse in my veins
I shall resist
O Enemy of the Sun
The decorations are raised at the port
The ejaculations fill the air
A glow in the hearts
And in the horizon
A sail is seen
Challenging the wind
And the depths
It is Field Marshall Dedan Kamathi (Mau Mau)
Returning home
From the sea of loss
It is the return of the Sun
Of my exiled ones
And for her sake
and his
I swear
I shall not compromise
And to the last pulse in my veins
I shall resist
Resist–and resist
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