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We Can't Fill Your Shoes | America: Seasoned and Raw We may be walking in your footsteps but We can't fill your shoes We can't fill your shoes We can't fill your shoes. The Gen X revolution is televised Pens hit page and mouths spit conscious rhymes, but before I bless the mic this time I must pay homage to you, The true Revolutionary poet Your boldness, liberation to Black voices Your achievements, the fulfillment of once enslaved dreams Knowledge is power And it pours from your pen Its libation; Its golden; Its red, black, green; Yes, poet, you can kidnap me Kidnapping You're kidnapping ignorance from young minds sold out for the "bling." You said, "Black love is Black wealth" so roll in it Black woman. We love you for teaching us to love ourselves, Suddenly we Be living naturally 'cuz you spoke of Revolutionary Dreams And if you find yourself ego trippin' you still get mad respect 'Cuz sis, you're so baaaad Even your errors are correct. Gen Xers write poems read poems speak poems preach poems in this spoken word revolution but we must pay homage to you my sister 'Cuz we may be walking in your footsteps but we can't fill your shoes We can't fill your shoes We can't fill your shoes. You liked your bland America unseasoned and cooked dry with its tasteless imitation of diversity its watered-down identities. You cooked out the flava till it had no effect and stirred the pot until nothing was left but your bland America. Oh, Say, Can You See? I can see that in your plan "United We Stand" means giving up the real me, hiding my identity,selling out for some false version of liberty. Your melting pot philosophy serves to force me to hide my uniquely different cultural ways. I'm suffocating in a haze of mainstream pop culture crap that's not real, but politically correct enough to appeal to your bland America. You sing "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!" and thank God for what they told ya when they said that this was a color blind society, but you're so blind you get threatened by me just 'cause I let these Nubian naps be free? If we must assimilate maybe y'all should look like me. In mental chains we beg the opressor to "Give us free!" but he's so blind to color that he can't see that we live in a place where a person's race becomes a card and he must discard any connection to Africa, Mexico the Carribean to fit in to your bland America. But my America is seasoned and raw. Seasoned with all the variety you saw in your melting pot as you frantically stirred- they ain't melting in because they haven't heard that different is threatening, or maybe they don't care what you think about their language, their clothes or their hair. and if you're smart you'll find out, they got something to share but if you're afraid then you best beware because your bland America is a thing of the past seasoned and raw has the flavor that lasts and don't try to back peddle and say it's ok because I don't need you to approve of who I am anyway. This ain't your bland America. It's women are thick, it's men rich with diversity, willing to celebrate each other's identity and still able to unify for a common cause that is America : Seasoned and Raw. |
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Copyright © 2004 Maria James |
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