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Correct Children's Poem Lyrics
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Artists: U
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Ursula Rucker
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Correct Children's Poem
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Lyrics:
Hey, my name is not Protocol And I ain't nobody's stigma or statistic Hey, hey lady, you know who you are. You think you helpin' me by insertin' me into the system. You think you know me. Just another little black boy needs savin' Well, my mama loves me, I'll have you know You don't love me You don't even know me You don't know my black life My parents black love Black struggle My black history My black community My mama said slavery is alive and well I didn't believe her, but she was right Cause you ain't nothin' but the plantation mistress, wearing America's corset pulled way too tight, two sizes too small Master's slave, same as us, just privileged and frigid Lookin' down on me from your cold bedroom window, watchin' master walk to my mama's door Resentful YOU Hateful YOU Hating me under the guises of helping me Do-gooder YOU YOU BITCH, YOU I call you out of your name I call you out of your name No, this is not just another poem about children Or Just another poem It is a prayer A plea A lament A dirge, if you will A dirge in the spirit of Margaret Walkers' "For My People" But, this is for my children This is for our children Some ones take Monday afternoon walks with mamas steppin' only in shadowless spaces on pavements Happy Loved Some ones step into shadowed spaces to hide From mamas who are fiending Mama's boyfriends who are creamin' in their pants for little girls kisses Little boys' hands to hold Endangered, so unloved Some ones sleep soundly in mini-van car seats Sunlight streaming on little baby faces…warm Visions of mommy milk floating in their little baby brains And then some ones have to put up with us Cussin' and tusslin' about some dumb stuff Burdening their little ears and eyes with our mistakes, our sins Weighting their little hearts heavy with worry Snuffing out their light, their innocence, way too soon Suffer the children Suffer our hopes and our future Two missing girls found slain in Zion Buried in the backyard of a trailer park in Florida Limp in a basement of an abandoned building in North Philly Little legs and arms and big child dreams Stuffed into a drain pipe on the roof of a tenement, somewhere in this crazy place Miseducated in a classroom with no room for art…or the truth What we gonna do? Keep idly watchin' the news as some ones So many sons and daughters get driveby'd Video-ho'd Pedifiled Mainstreamed Short-changed Murdered Molested Misunderstood, misunderstood Face all up on the news Kid meal of the minute for media mass consumption And we cry And hmm…hmm…hmmm And "did you hear about…" And lick our fingers And we don't leave nothing for the worms Not gristle or bone or nothing And them we digest em Shit em out And forget em Until the next hottest tragedy du jour What we gonna go? Hug em, love em when they feel numb Protect but not shelter them Encourage Uplift Hear them Give them options Please, give them options Celebrate them Be tough when necessary What we gonna do? You better get out there and go pull your sweet little 12-year old up off her knees Tell her she don't have to suck no boy's dick to keep him Fuck that What we gonna do indeed Whatever we gotta Whatever we gotta To be continued……..
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