"Whitey's On The Moon" by John Kaniecki

Here are some words inspired by Gil Scott Heron. It is from my fantastic poetry book called “Polishing The Fragments.” Take a look.

Whitey’s On The Moon

They are rapping in the ghetto which is now called the hood

Them white folks all say that it’s immoral and no good

But their sons go gangsta at least not while at school

And they’ll wander downtown just to be treated cruel

By some Crip hanging out on the corner trying to cope

Whitey will come on down and buy himself some overpriced dope

Jamming on the C.D. to something that is outer space

Cause they still believe in the ‘great white race’

Never mind in the mirror it is clearer who is the disgrace

But there is an element, a moment that they strive to grasp

They are petting the little puppy but it’s a rat with teeth like an asp

Well they blame every fault in their society on the poor

But they are glad to have them go and fight Wall Street’s war

They wave the flag, boast and brag, but not so secretly deplore

When the warrior returns, he quickly learns, the fire burns

As coked up traders score with whores to celebrate rising numbers

Meanwhile in grandest style God in His heaven silently slumbers?
Maybe He’s seeing how sadistic our overlords can really get

They crucified the Son of God that I will never forget

So when they tell me that He’s coming real, real soon

I sit back and relax and remember, Whitey’s On The Moon

I am stealing a line from Gil Scott of course

Cause according to Al he is the rapper’s number one source

I see Whitey talking indignantly about how the system is rigged

Slavery was a long time ago, don’t you dig?

As if Jim Crow was some kind of pleasurable poetic piece

As if the traps of racism fell and the hell offered some release

But the Piper was piping as Emit Till’s mother was weeping to his tune

But forget the regret cause Whitey’s on the Moon

Hell no, scream the poor white trash cause they can’t collect decent cash

The elite with venom sweet point to the man with the darker skin

He is the fault; blame them for everything evil that is your sin

So not too bright, they fail to see the light that the rich divides

Behind various ambiguous walls, the master he hides

Politicians are but a face to the disgrace but lack the real power

You’ll find out who is Satan’s mind when we come to the revealing hour

Remember in the anti December the solstice comes in the month of June

But have no fear, there is no atmosphere, just ask, Whitey’s On The Moon

Can’t pay the rent, and I’m too stubborn to truly repent

So here let me end calling out to my friends, you know who you are

I ain’t on the Moon, rather I am hanging in a bar on Jupitar 

Polishing The Fragments