The New American Slavery
We’re on the cusp of a new world
An order unlike anything our fathers could have imagined
We’ve been trading morality for comfort for too many years
And finally, painted into the corner of our own undoing
We’ve decided to just close our minds
Sit Indian-style like children
And chuckle while shit burns down.
We’ve finally outsmarted ourselves
Reasoned that style and platitudes
Could uplift us straight out of reality
“They’s a nigger in the woodpile”
My granddaddy would say
And though I hated his language
I can only imagine he was prophesizing about right now
And how our leaders herd us like cats
Into unnaturally straight lines
“Come on up here little pussies…
Massa’s got some healthcare for you
Come on up to the porch, Toby,
And get you some free milk…”
The fields are going unplanted
The harvest time will come and go unnoticed
But we’ll just keep grinning
And not worryin bout nothing
Cause Massa’s got this magic machine
And he just gots to hit a button
And corn will roll out this here contraption—
Wheat and chicken and flour
Will just pop right out I think
And we don’t need to ever plant the fields
Or tend the flocks again.
The rich folks’ll keep the magic machines rolling
And we’ll just grin and think about equality
And how nuthin’s really equal
If’n we don’t get to pay less and take a little more
On account of all the wrong done to our granddaddies and such.
But I’m starting to think the magic machines
Might not be working proper
It’s turning cold again and I worry about the empty fields
I’m doing what I’m told, though.
I continue to hope, to think “Yes we can” all the time
But I’m gettin hungry
And it’s taking longer each season
To get my ‘lotment.
I hear the Chinamen gots all the rice they can eat
But it still don’t seem right
They should have to work so hard
At planting and harvesting—
Food is a basic human right—
What sorta evil Massa they got
Makes them work to eat?
The baby’s sick most days now
And we’re all pretty fed up
With the failin’ machines
Think maybe we’ll get pitchforks and torches
And tear apart that woodpile
Till we find that liar done trained us out of farming.
I tried to plant a garden today
But I couldn’t work out all the steps anymore
Massa’s forgot about me
And momma’s long gone
And it’s turning colder again.
MY RESPONSE TO THE BANNING: