a new direction in poetry
. New Day Nefertiti/Worldwide Underground
Land Of The Free
Wrote this by my window
worries on a Wednesday
eyewitness of my world
young warrior, no sensei
still sending prayers cause sins play
a large part in my society
saints get weak sometimes
serpents in suits got the innocent doing time
paid bribes to say we did the crime
bottom boys, we were born guilty
other side, it ain’t hard to become who they say you are
tv screens and statistics defining out image
this is what we go through
I learned to grow to
the facts my folks used as fertilizer
autobiographies of my people
the whole lineage is straight
from Henry Dumas to Quincy Troupe
didn’t expect us yesterday
won’t expect us tomorrow
still coming hard
our excellence sneaks upon america
through rhyme couplets
and crescendos in four four time
a majority of our excellence
is caged inside america’s prisons
tucked away from our society
so you’ll never see their pain
or wonder why they were selling cocaine
in the first place
tucked away so you’ll never no their names
and how Quentin has two kids back home
a wife who works two jobs
and a mother with breast cancer
her son, caged
we treat humans like animals
with the nerve to celebrate freedom
and independence on the fourth
while having the largest
prison population in the world,
america is a lie
it has no morals
no conscience
shows no remorse
your modern day peculiar institution
your society is inhumane
complains about caged dogs
while caged men get gang raped
penises covered in blood
toothbrushes become defense mechanisms
addicts waking up in cold sweats
no help with kicking habits
brothers with mental disorders
never receiving proper medication
trapped in cages
and if america really cared
we’d put money towards prevention
by investing in our schools
our summer programs
and our communities
so we’d never be in a position
to become criminals
but citizens of this society
would rather protest cruelty to dogs
and discuss fashion over blogs
how much money Michael died with
as if any of the money would make it to heaven
america has a short attention span
forever sidetracked from what really matters
place the penitentiaries away from the people
so we can’t see the problem
but our prisons are a problem
america is a contradiction
your anthem
doesn’t match your actions.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-Land Of The Free is featured in 25 To Life.
Excellence
Went from Reebox
Classics
to Nike SB's
prayed for improvement of the pen
hoping God blessed these words
when I’m in 5ive stars
the sign says do not disturb
I used to build with my brothers
motivation was crushed herb
addicts chillin on the curb
tragic feeling in my nerves
passion spilling from my verbs
captured killers getting served jail time
25 to life, waiting on mail time
prison letters censored, say peace to George Jackson
went from snappin, marching, and clapping
to clappin’ on brothers and trappin
trapped in systems, no snitchin
but it depends on who you askin’
our language has been coded since back when
we’d hide messages in quilts
peep this patchwork
america was built
off the backs of black work
still we underestimate Black worth
we disrespect our own habitats
we wax and shine cadillacs
but throw trash on the ground
your cleanliness is a contradiction to where you lay your head
five year olds talking about getting head
cause they heard it in a song
peep how we pollute minds early on
my uncle used to offer me alcohol
spring training for addiction
played the sideline most seasons
but these are the gifts Black kids inherit
the illness, the sickness
juniors who never knew their seniors
tryna get paid in full like Ace
staring out the cleaners
presidents falling from the sky
they say benjamins make us fly
I say that’s where the evil’s rooted
testaments will testify
but serpents test if I was ever under the steeple
what you talking?
we were always a God fearing people
even before we called him God
always a righteous people
Jesus hanging from a tree
lynchings were crucifixions for niggas
we were always more like Christ
my paternal denied me three times
word to Peter
we were always more like Christ
my neighborhood was never Nazareth
never the less, we live the narrative
no earthly fathers
we carry crosses
we die before we get to read our own stories
reference Malcolm
reference Martin
see Medgar
see Lumumba
reference Jonathan Jackson
see the little brother dying for big brother
see love
see unity
see your history
see yourself
see your
excellence.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-Excellence is featured in 25 To Life.
The Massacre
No apologies,
america
will forever
have blood on its hands
forever
have blood
on its hands
for every unmarked grave
our great great grandmothers
lay under
will forever
have blood on its hands
for every lynching
every noose thrown upon
our uncles necks
blood
for every African
who chose death
once stolen from home
will forever
have blood on its hands
forever
for every
nine months our mothers
carried their babies
only to leave us with the burden
mixed children
broken homes
drums destroyed
languages lost
religions and gods
choked to death
in the name of new world wealth
blood
forever
for every nigger they made breed
only to sell off the seeds
in the name of new world wealth
blood
forever
for every death yielding device
you sold to the motherland
blood
forever
for every inch of vomit
and feces
that touched our beautiful skin
on the bottom of your boats
forever
for every African
who called you a beast
in their native tongue
america
fuck you
and fuck your bullshit apology
my people will stay
as pure as we were
when you found us
and you will always be as corrupt
as your forefathers were
and we
along with the world
and God
will always see
the blood on your hands,
Like your deeds
your apologies are unacceptable.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-The Massacre is featured in 25 To Life.
Say Hello
Say hello to my home, my hood
where helicopters hover over
the holy shout hallelujah
half pints question Jehovah
holding heat in one hand
holding pennies in the other
the pennies held holds
no heroes, they say we hopeless
our heroes turned hypocrite
like the haters of hip hop
who complain but
don’t buy quality albums
when they drop
would even hate on a poet
if that poet went pop
wouldn’t realize who’s shot
if this poet ever went pop,
Say hello to the bad guy
who really ain’t bad
but when the bad fake as good
then the good must fake as bad
just to separate themselves
from the ones who are bad in real life
I mean them poets
who never even respect the mic
til they step upon the stage
never studied e.e. cummings
so their poems suck on page
while k.p. speaks of longevity
when it comes to my destiny, it was written
this is more than me just spittin'
I’m recycling a talent that God has already given
did I mention my purpose,
Say hello to my home, my hood
where I scribble in scripts described by other scribes
Dr. Asante said we should never call them tribes
cause it’s demeaning to the place where we left our pride
inside the city my folks is still living true lives
working two jobs with one hustle on the side
copping the two piece with mashed potatoes on the side
pushing two strollers with one baby on her side
feeding three seeds with no husband by her side
still don’t think twice about letting brothers come inside
long as they come around on weekends and put gas in her ride
she doesn’t have a favorite poet
doesn’t come to open mics
but every few shows
I hear these poems that relate to her life
and “come on sister, where’s your self-respect?”
her self-respect is in our poems
it’s just that our poems are in the wrong place
our messages are dislocated
from the masses in our communities
disconnected
so say hello.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-Say Hello is featured in New Day.
New Day Nefertiti/Worldwide Underground
New day Nefertiti
burning me a disc full of Badu
as we speak of stolen civilizations
but some won’t see the contradiction
some won’t see the beauty in us
some will exploit that beauty
music labels
team owners
some will say 2 Pens exploited poetry
but we just collected the debt
owed to Thelonious Monk
the money owed to Billie Holliday
reparations
and all the free labor
that my great greats gave
on plantations in South Carolina
Georgia, and Arkansas
remember that people owe us
we owe no one
the purpose is community
I still believe in robbing the rich
if they don’t give to the poor
I search for balance
walking this tight rope
arms stretched in front of crowds
what’s written down is transferred aloud
no negatives but you’ll still get the picture
images developed
imagery enveloped
with the spirit of Paul Laurence Dunbar
some of us still wear the masks
piece my world together on pages
like Jacob Lawrence
you speak of Black art
you speak of Baraka
you speak of Black hearts
passion filled blood still pumpin'
push up the fader
bust the meter
shake the tweeter
bump it for Eleanor Bumpers
rock history like it’s the newest trend
but for now we embark upon this New Day
the host just told me to “go in”
how far? all the way
hard like Cassius Clay
when you refused to call him Ali
get the name right
or it’s gone be a short fight
never had time to battle poets in slams
the dudes I respect don’t give a
about a perfect ten from somebody who can’t relate to our story
bottom boy vision
we hardly see fame and glory
struggle seems mandatory
I stayed up nights in the dormitory
praying to connect when I got back home
hoping education wouldn’t separate me from the life I’ve always known
seen so many sellouts
seen so many forget
always gotta remind my folks
that my intentions are legit
my intentions are concrete
my purpose is tangible
easy as one two three
(WE)alth starts with we
gotta invest back into our own communities
so I stashed twenty at the ATM
hit the music store, thumbing through the alphabets
Aaliyah, Aretha, Bilal, hold up, there it is
Badu, copped the album
hope Erykah gets her portion
popped it in the stereo, no distortion
track one pierces the ear drum
the back drop of conversation for me
and this new day Nefertiti
as we speak of ways to preserve this
beautiful Black culture.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-New Day Nefertiti/Worldwide Underground appears in New Day.
Killa Season
4,000 soldiers on my mind
so 4,000 soldiers is how i start this rhyme
very sublime like lemon lime
how the value of life diminished
my people prematurely pass for peace
president say we ain't finished
too much pride to quit now
people who once took a stand
now choose to sit down
so i jump up off the porch
begging to carry the torch
two lighters in my palms
i hold fire in my pockets
dislocated from my folks
poems place me back in socket
so i guess i need these joints
lyrics serve as ligaments holding my world together
some cats be using big words just to prove how clever
but that's exactly how the umbilical gets severed
i mean, that's how artists get cut off from what originally gave them life
most be lying in the booth, i birth truth through mics
like i'm worried about the economy
and the sub-prime lending crisis
while we argue on the train
debating on who the nicest
slices of the american pie rarely served in my community
american dream rarely seen
no queens
just Billie Jeans
who birth unclaimed sons
who learn from tv screens
making Plies a role model
makes me wanna get a gun
so i can ride out for my folks
put a hole in his lungs
and shout power to the people
like Huey and his boys
and i'll call it self defense
my folks were being destroyed
and who cares
if i kill some rapper for his rhymes
when my country kills without reason
4,000 soldiers on my mind.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
*Killa Season is featured on The Straight, No Chaser Mixtape.
A Poem 4 Poets
Papermates poison the papyrus with no cure
matter of fact, peep the data
this is potent poetry, pure
told em, naw, this ain't no hustle
this is passion filled art
an abnormal love
ink's pumping through my heart
so when i get killed you might imagine oil spills
with ten niggas standing over
saying damn, that shit is real
mesmerized to learn
that i really bleed black
reveal my scars on stage
sometimes the crowd bleeds back
and that's a beautiful thing
i mean, artists need feedback
when i'm hungry for hip hop
i listen to three stacks
used to ride around rapping along to each track
rhymes are roadmaps for dope boys in these traps
cause real direction is what cats in the streets lack
when they call, i respond
and tell em to look beyond
if you wanna keep it real
start by raising your sons
I mean, no man should play God
but it's cool to raise
your son
guess i'm just trippin
cause my father never raised his son
having a dad was my dream that dried up
like a raisin in the sun
childhood deferred
i was referred to spoken word
any poets feeling that?
let me hear you say word
"WORD"
word to the cats still addicted to the page
addicted to that white
cocaine flow
tryna get high tonight
might catch em in the corner
overdosing at open mics
getting high off haiku
strictly poetry, no prose
metaphor junkies
we put similes up the nose
sniffing line after line
producing internal rhyme
nostrils bleeding back ink
so once we fall ill
you might imagine, oil spills
with first timers standing there
like damn, that shit is real
mesmerized to learn
that we really bleed black
reveal our scars on stage
sometimes the crowd bleeds back.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-A Poem 4 Poets is featured in New Day.
Whole Foods
Born and raised on single parent lands
bottom boys because we didn’t inherit grands
from our grands, understand
poverty stayed in constant rotation like second hands
what kept us cool
love circulated like kitchen fans
eating cornbread and cabbage
hash and black eyed peas
those days long gone
I’m thinking Ph.Ds
conversations with my grandmother
the other end of the phone
I’m tryna explain
why I stopped eating neckbones
stopped eating pork chops
don’t even want bacon in my greens
ain’t running from my culture
I’m running from heart disease
daddy died of diabetes
granddaddy did too
giving myself insulin shots
ain’t what I’m tryna do
plus I don’t like needles
hate taking pills
when waiters ask about desert
I say, naw, just bring the bill
can’t afford cheesecake
nor apple pie a la mode
mint chocolate chip
I’d like to eat the whole bowl
but I’m tryna preserve my health
tryna preserve my wealth
I’ll eat anything for free
but I won’t sponsor my death
I said, grandmother, I love you
I just hope you understand
I’m just tryna improve
tryna become a better man
tryna stay healthy
so I don’t have to pay for pills
wish I could invest all of that money
I’ve seen you spend on hospital bills
I know it’s southern hospitality
you show your love through soul food
I guess the times are changing though
I’ll take my kids to whole foods
and all that extra money
that wasn’t spent on doctors and meds
I’ll take it and buy stock
take it and buy land
so financially, family will be straight for generations
both money and love
will be in constant rotation
I said, grandmother that’s my plan
I just want your great grandkids
to inherit grands from their grands,
understand.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-Whole Foods is featured in Harlem 65.
A Different World
My father still laughs when he sees footage of the Rodney King beating
we first watched it one Wednesday night during dinner
I’m not sure why, but I cried
he kept eating
my mother didn’t say a thing
my brother, Peter, he’d just turned sixteen
he smiled, saying “Why did they stop?”
“They should have killed him”
my father tells stories of when Black people knew “their place”
he says their men are all thugs
and their women, all whores
says he’d kill me if I ever brought one of those ignorant, dirty…
through his doors
“respect your people
your forefathers
great men died for this flag
these stars
these stripes
these colors
red, white, and blue
this represents the true south”
he says “don’t forget your heritage, Timmy
remember your history, Timmy
put it in your poems if you have to
this is your home
this land belongs to you
so don’t let any nigger take this away from you son
understand?”
too young to know otherwise
I’d never left Adel, Georgia
the place I call home
where the only Black person I’d ever seen was old man Thomas
he’s the janitor at my school
my school, composed only of white students
my school, where race was never an issue
except for last year when this one kid hung a confederate flag
on our school’s flag pole on Martin Luther King’s birthday
my father could probably never understand how I felt about that day
so I wrote poems about it, questioning what it means to be
white like me, not black like you
in America
even in 2009
lately, my mother keeps asking me why I never come home
lately, I find myself hating my father for the hatred he holds in his heart
for the hatred he taught my brother
for the hatred he tried to teach me
cause this past August I started school in Atlanta
where many of my friends now are black students
who make good grades just like me
they laugh and they cry just like me
and when their fathers don’t understand them
they write poems just like me
last Thursday, our poetry professor asked us to write a poem
describing our college experience so far
I titled my poem A Different World.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-A Different World is featured in Harlem 65.
Transformers
Tomorrow rapidly transforming into today
Open ears are rare, I had a lot to say
The more you see black and white, the more I see gray
It ain’t all good, it’s barely okay
I’m not stable
But even the earth rotates
In constant revolution
You’ll see your beginning again
Then again and again
Until God says the end
Until then
My pages keep kissing my pens
Life as about as shifty as the wind
Look, you lost another friend
That’s how quick death is
Homo sapiens wasting their 365’s
By the 24-7’s
How can we say one is legal at 18
When kids die at age 11
Hard to say what’s the length of a lifetime
How long is left is hard to say
Tomorrow rapidly transforming into today.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-Transformers is featured in New Day.
We Make No Apology
We make no apology for this skin
no regrets about who we are
or who you want to be
could imitate
but they’ll never be us
looked down upon
but we influence the whole globe
kids in Tokyo bump Lupe
South Africans worship tupac
Malcolm leads men to Mecca
London looking at the election just like cats in College Park
while me and Henry
still be in this closet racist society
tryna make the next buck
and be stand up dudes at the same time
I got a habit of hating poets
who try to hustle lame rhymes
disrespectful to the whole game
the type of cat that would ruin Haki Madubuti’s name
plus most don’t know who he is
write my poems like history books
our story was rarely told
rarely shown
barely known
tricks of the slave trade
Europeans lying to Congolese kings
just to get free labor
showing Christ to the savage but still raping the beast
even stole our diamonds and gold
only to sell it back to niggas
so we could rock it at shows
shirts off
sweating for descendants of Apache killers
the stage becomes an auction block
and everybody’s tryna make it rain
even Australians wanna be Lil Wayne
back in north philly I ask this kid
if he’s ever heard Hollywood Divorce
cause struggle never destroyed our excellence.
An ex-addict reads Langston at an open mic
see, it ain’t easy being ugly
and beautiful too.
-Christopher K.P. Brown
-We Make No Apology is featured in Harlem 65.
The Sweetest Taboo
Doing it, and doing it, and doing it well
doing it, and doing it, and doing it well
Even deeper
some things just ain’t worth dying for
no matter how good it feels
middle initials, keep pushing
he just tryna keep it real
most don’t understand like foreign accents
when I say I practice abstinence
and they ask Chris
well, you’ve never done anything?
sexual activity absent
often not even an obstacle
that’s hard to overcome
see the modern age has me afraid
of AIDS
not to mention it’s against my religion
Christian since my early days
born early eighties
in 09 cats be flippin scriptures
to make you think sin is okay, cool
Doing it, and doing it, and doing it well
doing it, and doing it, and doing it well
but sixty five percent of the kids at my school
had sexually transmitted diseases
sixteen year old sex fiends
can’t imagine what percent actually passed away
some stories I could tell you personally
so personally, imma just wait to lay
cause some things ain’t worth dying for
even deeper, see what I’m trying for
what I’m striving for
love,marriage,then the carriage
in that order cause some be skipping the love and marriage
love, marriage, then the carriage
two parents behind that carriage
so that carriage stays on course
see, my parents never married
so there was no divorce
just a 38 year old lady
her early eighties baby
and another hard head
who’s daddy we ain’t seen since ’76,
fast forward to ‘09
and it’s some whole other shit
women only measure love in inches
and who’s slangin good dick
even deeper, how can I call you a queen
if you call yourself a bitch
Doing it, and doing it, and doing it well
doing it, and doing it, and doing it well
doing it, and doing it, and doing it well,
but umm… she don’t really represent no queens
issues my mother’s generation can’t understand
why strong women won’t demand a strong man
I said when the values aren’t passed
it leaves us all weak
my homeboy helped abort another baby last week
something something something should’ve used a condom
something something something no time for a kid
fast paced nation, apathetic killers
protestors for pro-choice
dead babies can’t protest death
word to Al Gore, for some
pregnancy be the real inconvenient truth
fast paced nation, apathetic
ain’t America all about convenience
from ipods to blackberrys
to abortion clinics
if it complicates your life
might as well just kill it
I mean, your convenience
is worth that child dying for
finding it too inconvenient to use a lifestyle, Trojan
or maybe birth control
go ahead and kill it
before it develops a soul
not to mention religion
and wasn’t sex meant for reproduction
something something something what about rape?
something something something if we aborted every child
produced from rape there would be no such thing as an African American race
no black community
or the problems that lie within it
fatherless homes started on the plantation
even deeper, we continue to play a role in it’s survival
a cycle
we just carry it on
on and on
on the flip flip
I done jumped up out of beds
and headed home
carried on
steady strong
amongst temptations
to bury bones
and never needed no pat on the back
realized the facts
and what’s gone make me happy long term
tryna keep down the right path
never make the wrong turn
early lessons learned
not to mention religion
and I’m just tryna break the cycle
of disease
abortions
mothers on their knees
cause the daddy wasn’t home
I’ve seen the effects
she asked why I’ve never had sex
something something something I ain’t tryna be no baby’s daddy
something something something not tryna have no baby’s mama
something something forget poetry
my greatest goal is to be a good husband
be a good father
so my wife and I can build a strong family
something needed but rare in my hood,
even deeper, three things plague my community,
AIDS
abortion
absent fathers,
Abstinence is my way of breaking the cycle.
-Christopher K.P. Brown