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
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
