“You must all remember the arrows of Qin may be powerful. They may penetrate our cities and destroy our kingdom. But they can never annihilate our written words!”
– Old Scholar [Jet Li’s Hero, 2004]
Justice or else. Justice, the showing of the greatest judgment. And in the Nigga States period, the Judges of the most pompous piety pimped scales to fairness. Through fecal fields of pissed palaces, the immaculate aromas of dialect of the greatest etiquette expunge upon us. How dare anyone not respect the many black and white robes that gavel fraudulentness so spectacularly?! Klueless kourts and klux klans rule over our clusters of crews and clicks so, oh, how we must amazingly fail? No, prevail. So now, Justice Or Else.
Or else? Or else. We had just resigned to make homes where we’ve been taken. A bath the next time the water would flow, food cooked before the last fats are wasted away. A fasting life that toxifies dynamically and the fast life is enlightenment. Every generation the rare revolutionaries fill our dreams but we only rebel. The consistency of niggery is extra ordinary. It breeds pity from whites unbeknownst to their privilege and becomes the subject of roundtable discussions no growing negros and hiss panicked hispanics debate. Them kind of uppity ones educated enough to proudly wear that subtle, ungrateful sneer that they are the blessed that have escaped civilized and westernized. But the kids don’t fantasize. They say, “got eeem.” Word. They get all the niggas. All of them. You too, motherfucka.
Our history is never correctly exalted. So let the Sun set and see a style that hasn’t been done yet…We are the creators of capitalism. No white man ever seen all things in one place- supremacy of fathering and, of course honorably mothering, civilization. A Herodotus road trip past the first monuments of the mind. The calculations of the golden ratio to the logic of zero, shades from Black and Brown to Yellow naturally born without rules and regulations, foods of every crop planted for every season, the clothing that sheltered famines and flowed athletic enough to suffice for life or studying the afterlife. Forums beyond ‘the necessity of invention but the creations of leisure’ just as Aristotle noted of this ancient Black blueprint jacked. The prehistoric ether. An old song by great ol’ griots.
Now leisure can provoke pyramids or pondering past possibilities proper. We, Original people, had eventually funneled our issues of dissatisfaction into a distinct moment. All into breeding men that would be weak enough to show us how wicked it all could be. And the malicious magnificence of the Caucasian stomps but they could not found societies civilized without us. Ivan Van Sertima mixtapes to Cheik Anta Diop Long Players, let them play acapella, quotable the truths. Our mind is a template for the extraction of every asset in this westernized world. And to take if from us is to value it wrong. Make all things theirs now with prices too high. Put our thoughts at the lowest charge for the supply is infinite and the demand accounted cleverly as supposedly low. Now then, we Mexicans cook it all, you Puerto Ricans sweep it all, you African Americans carry it all, you Native Americans leave it all, they say to all us Black and Brown. You savages that had all the resources and didn’t use them right they learned us.
Race, the 16 shades of Black to Yellow, the greatest and only real asset of capitalism. Its first industrialization niggers the mind, funneling its most beautiful thoughts into hustles of extravagant degradation. A matrix machine where Neo anomalies get denounced into submission and then applauded into assimilation. Revolutionary ideas are updates to the program’s functioning. A matrix engine we, when young, brash and bold, make it leak redemption songs that played on plantations, drip bottle shots of the illest plena on sugar cane fields and trickle breaks and rhymes on the city’s concrete encampments. But when all is left is the drum, dance and artful word they too get Slammed!…Dumbed down and dumbed down-down. We re-prioritize our principles from virtue, honor and respect to money, power and respect. Sold specs are now resources to be re-upped. Word is bond and bond is life. And none shall give up their wealth when their word shall fail.
So now the Million Man March, 20 years after the first great gathering of Black men for neither sport nor entertainment. 1995’s was too early for me. I knew we were all niggas but not why we’re all Original men. This anniversary #JusticeOrElse march is with all the shades of Black, Dominican and the Haitain, the Latino and the Native American, the DJ and the dancer. From the classroom that builds Gods and Earths, I make nation our birthright to who we are and knowledge of self is the most profound pursuit of happiness. If we are oppressed for who are we, then we, whom know who we are, must build on it. So my warrior brethren saved a seat in the tank for me to march in with our own understanding. A culture where we search for the best part, the young, and build with them. Damn all else. Our armory is only suited with #OrElse, #TheBuild. Or else. For a life so Lo, my brothers can only afford the two things that matter, love and loyalty. Matched like horses and quadri-chambered cookies, the wisdom of a useful movement and the sincerity of a purpose revealed. Before we leave, my lapel of astral characters intimately united with the seven centered, pictures my family with I as its maker, so you can find us.
The March may have been brought to you by the letter N word, the dianetic endowments of the L. Ron Hubbard foundation and excited by the search of a mysterious energy, Fard or force but it’s the first massive march to blatantly unite all the said Original people. The march is all personally tied to each person’s travel to D.C. To be right in front of the white house of the United States, the seat of the western world, and all call out its deliberate oppression that continues is a sight to knowledge. And the young looking for answers are in a cipher filled with the true and living. Some wanted action programs and direct plans stated but what oppressed people broadcast battle plans to the enemy. Some wanted other than the Nation of Islam and Louis Farrakhan to lead it. Some hated the hustlers selling 24 Karat plastic and misnamed 5 percenters coming in my name. Others quoted, “Then what happened?”
Nothing we have to see. Farrakhan, after all these years, still leaves jewels in the packaging of a unique Islamic mysticism. Black, Brown, Yellow are all Original, all indigenous, all naturally borning. Never said it outright, maybe he can’t, maybe he doesn’t have to. We’re taught to sell and buy any and all things and are mad at the players, but we may be in the game too. A game where we wanted our revolution request forms to be processed and leave with liberation legislation explained in an easy-to-unfold peace pamphlet.
Now or end, if this world be manned and run by devils, who are we to be so exalted to be gifted its end when we ought to be concerned with #TheBuild given to tomorrow’s warriors now. Awareness of your weak feelings are just different traffic lights on the road to knowledge of self. You stop when you’re bloody angry, get ready to go when you’re mellowed yellow and feverishly drive on when the cream green rises to the top. But for you to See Allah’s Rule as yourself at the helm, it is to know that God Allah’s Self is simply the fuel of a knowledge of self, who we are. #TheBuild. It’s a man to man operation. Work yourself ‘til you see you. You see yourself so well you rightly write more than the past failings and present trials. You write your history in advance, a powered now a coming with honored deference to humanity’s gain. So you often won’t see that young man, living the ultimatum of #OrElse, #TheBuild, making dents in hell and coming out righteous, if you’re not tuned in. And who cares if any of us will be. If knowledge is truth and we are creators creating in our own creation, it will happen, done by Allah, himself. And who is that if it won’t be you young Black, Brown, Yellow brother?!
The March is over and October 10, 2015 is another day in this dragging Nigga States period. So, brothers, study the proofs of truth legally tendered or freely proffered to you. Verify the teachers at every podium you migrate to. Make your own questions but only accept the truth as an answer as best you can. Bathe yourself of belief and with toughness, defy the niggery. It’s all just a course of peace, political education and civilization enrichment, the science of everything in life. #JusticeOrElse. We’ll just march into the #OrElse now, #TheBuild, at the God hour. Peace.