the "never were a people" people

we never woke to the question

 of why we kill each other

we, the "never were a people" people

the violent sea encrusted us 

wrenched our tongues, ruined our cults

shamed our mem'ry, entombed our hearts

visual nightmares we became

bought and crushed in kind

with cursed flesh and raped minds

hating ourselves, we're an outside people

hooked on cash and guns to our heads

cloning Thurmond our peculiar pride

our heritage's been can't even when we can

disturbing the shamed while entertaining lust

tempting death and cutting up

oh, what his'try won't tell us

and what mem'ries contextually hide

encased neath dysfunctions learned over years

a negroid people of shades many disliked

how difficult in democracy to incorporate 

no matter how right our flesh or proper our fare

can't love black, only the whiter flesh

a people caught in the slaying of kin

bungling our way to the economic top

but somewhere in the midst of our shadowy cross

the faithful poor mirror the body as one

somewhere tween heaven and the longings of earth

what we seek are sweet words, lying, at best

that melt the wax while walling up truth

burying images in a cauldron of dross

so listen hard to the difficult truth

discard the pablum served with lye

and crave true stories that strengthen the heart

*Transformation of mind and heart, interior justice, that's what concerns apostles.

-Jean Sulivan

*-As long as the priest is primarily a functionary of the sacred, the professional of the parade-ground - that is, as long as he constitutes a caste - Christian communities will not arrive at real responsibility any more than the soldiers of a regiment, in spite of all the adjustments made under the pressure of circumstances.

-Jean Sulivan