My head is full of images. Things I want, need and desire. Images not true to me.
I'm a Blackman an African my dreams should be of Blackness my love should be of Blackness.
My head is full of images. Running for my life, being chased by my own people,
they are dressed in strange clothes.
It's dark, crying men, women, in the stench of our own shit and urine.
Pain rips through my body, I am rocked from side to side. Where am I.
My head is full of images. I work all day the hot sun to my back no rest no water I work,
I cry at night of what is and what was. I sleep restlessly only to be bawled at, it's time to work.
I hurt, we hurt, words are not enough to express our pain, and yet we sing.
My head is full of images. Burning, burning. My home is gone, the land was never mine.
Again I'm running, this time from the rope. The rope that killed my mother, father, sister and brother.
The rope that held them to burn. I ran, I'm lost, I'm alone, I'm a Blackman.
My head is full of images. Euro centric aspirations of the man who enslaved me and mine to their world.
They say we are free, born free yes we are but I am not free living as should a Blackman.
My head is full of images. Blackman, women and children building for their future.
Free we are said to be. War, man to man. I fight in their frontline, brothers and sisters die
for what is not theirs, to protect those who raped and murdered our forefathers.
Why? For the flag, to belong and be a part of what is not ours.
My head is full of images. A brother tries to rob another, he stabs his victim,
I watch others watch. Is this Blackness or madness.
Who are we and why have we allowed the traps of their system to hold us chained to it's whims?
My head is full of images. I am a king in my home land, I am an African, I am proud.
I have ran, I was lost, hurt, yet above all, I am a Blackman,
not willing to deny, give up or compromise my Blackness for man, woman or beast.
My head is full of images of the glory of my BLACKNESS.