First things first
Everything that you believe
Is not fact
Everything you’ve been told
Is all wack;
Most of what we think of as truth
Are in fact
Just a bunch of lies
Time to wipe the sleep from your eyes
Realize
That knowledge
Is not one version of a story
Praise singers paint oppressors
In benevolent shades of glory
And the truth is lost
Amid conjecture and theory.
I’ve been trying to tie down
This thing that we’re sold
Google it, you’ll see
What I mean
The first page that comes up
When you type in ‘African Pride’
Is a list of game lodges
With a couple of NGO’s:
And I had to turn to google
Because I didn’t find it on the street
And most of the books I read
The authors were trying too hard
To be like white men
But that affliction affects us all
We’ve forgotten how to stand tall
We’ve forgotten who we were
How can we know who we are
We all walk around like puppets
Trying so hard to fit in
To be a part of this paradigm
That laid the foundation
For our shame.
All of this shit started 12000 years
Before the common-era
As the clans became tribes –
The first signs of over population
Our lands could no longer sustain
The co-operative collective
Necessitating the expansion of territory
Giving rise to agriculture
And animal husbandry
And through the accumulation of food
New occupations emerged
As well as more complex social hierarchies
But inevitably
The complexity resulted in conflict
And ultimately
We developed warfare.
No longer did we rely
On the rule of the elders or the wise
A different trait is required
To ensure victory in battle
So we followed the ruthless
With their bloodlust the banner
And business as usual
Became a whole other matter
As slaughter and slavery
And loyal servitude
Was declared our lot
By the kings and the masters
Who wrote the books
And told us how great they were but not
How great we are without them.
As far back as 10000 years
Before the common-era
History is littered with ancient references
To the glory of the sun
That is a source of warmth
And food and light
And at night
The stars by which we could navigate
Our position in the universe
Out of which was born
The oldest conceptual image
The cross of the zodiac
Which is a visual representation
Of one complete cycle of the sun:
Around 3000 years
Before the common-era
In ancient Egyptian mythology
Horus was the sun-god
And his dark nemesis Set.
Horus was born on December twenty-fifth
The child of the virgin Isis
His birth was marked by a star in the East
He was adorned by three kings
He was twelve when he started to teach
He was baptized at thirty
And had twelve disciples that followed him
Sound familiar?
And yet all the Christian fundamentalists out there
Don’t want to know what the story’s really about
The star in the east is Sirius
Which aligns with the three brightest stars
In Orion’s belt on December twenty-fourth
These three stars are actually still
Called the three kings
Which aligned with Sirius
Point to the east and the rising of the sun
On December twenty-fifth
But don’t just take my word
Do the research.
All my brothers and my sisters
With your fake accents
Making no sense with your fake hairdo’s
And your hypocritical Abrahamic values
That has you convinced
And even preaching the lies
Bending down and closing your eyes
While human beings are being killed like flies
All because they face a different direction
When they pray
And everyday
The facts are right there
At your fingertips
Make the effort and check out the parallels
Search beyond what you’ve been told are the limits
You’ll be surprised
I guarantee that.
So before you claim
How you will lay down your life
For the things you profess to believe
Let me ask you this:
Is the brutality of this dominant psycho mentality
A part of what you perceive
Do you possess the intellectual agility
To conceive of the four horsemen
Shiny and new and yet so old
Galloping over the landscape across the millennia
Striding almost abreast, all subsidized industries
Pro-creation, agriculture and red meat
But edging ahead is warfare
By far the most profitable
Defining our dreams purposefully
While feeding our fears gleefully
And we smile and glow with self-importance
Actually enjoying the pat on the back
As we are sent out to pay
For the privilege of having a birth right
That means nothing
While I remain
An illegal squatter in my homeland.
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