Lights, Camera, Action

Light, How do you see it?

Can you even see it?

Or is it felt on the fine arms that brush up when air is left of mist.

Do you feel the needle-like rays pressed up against your pressure points,

Peircing your spine like that of a domesticated slave in mid-August. 

The soul which is enslaved to the light beating on the back of ones' neck;

feeling as if they're being weighed down by shackled ankles. 

Forever whipped upon, as slurred prayers are whispered beyong the breeze,

praying for answers of the anticipated question of "Why?"

Suffering doesn't just come once a year,

its held amongst the 86,400 seconds that lies within sun up and sun down.

Scare tactis and ignored thoughts;  you search for the Northern Star,

however, the light doesnt seem to take us so far.

Those eyes are waiting, waiting for you to drop,

to drop upon your knees as the light does not set you free.

 

Lights, Camera, Action

Cameras can determine whats picture perfect.

Capturing souls, exploiting misleading soft silhouettes of our women.

I quote: "Africa is where a woman became a god"

But the gods have been lowered upon the social pedalstal into stereotypical,

gum popping, weave patting, memoirs. 

Selling their minds to the lense,

trading their digbity for fame and a name that could only get one but so far. 

A systematic question of "Why?"

Raping our women with camera lenses and empty promises, those flashes;

flashbacks to whip lashes.

Those blinding camera flashes can oly get you but so far.

 

Lights, Camera, Action

Actions can determine who you are.

They speak louder that a wise diction, yet speakig the words that cannot be spoken.

They stand for those who cannot be broken

And speak for the sneeze of that 45. caliber.

Killing brothers and sisters, cousins and mothers,

the actions are like a stray bullet searching for its owner,

escaping the rusted barrell, entering the mind of one, the soul of two, and the ink bloched shoulder blade of a majestic being;

self killing an entire race with a single flinch of a trigger-finger. 

We are blind sided and naive to the sound off, with each of our fingers on the trigger;

With the actions and intentions of a "Nigga" 

 

Lights, Camera, Action

Lights can be dimmed,

Camers can be put away,

but the actions are displayed by our intentions

So lets intend to be one and not souhgt upon .

Memories can be erased, but the color of one's cheek bone may never satisfy.

And the tongue of an individual can do wonders as those in Hollywood.

Lights, Camera, Action