When that hearse pulled up
For a man they all greatly loved
Barba di Jonkuman tree cringed down at Marie Pompoen.
When that hearse pulled up people hurting for ya.
Old lady up in tears and the young youths too. Big grown ass men with trembling lips. Silent mourning faces, the clouds turn sorrow dark gray whispering: “Can you believe this shit?”.
A chorus of ‘misterio’ chants, solemnly curses ski-masks, a finger trigger and gold colored Kia Picanto. Future burials of perpetrators envisioned on wrinkled faces, monastery nuns defying their God sling fussilades of ‘konjo bo mama’s’ on repeat. Guiding light prayers to accompany the dearly deceased.
Psychological pandemonium blended into a capitalism feud fed by politrix make us resort to baking soda cocktails, minimum wage and welfare grits. Shots go off…… A white dove cries…
When that hearse took off
Grieving hearts hum liberation songs
Talkshows won’t overthrow above and underground money hungry regimes.
And Their Florin Fables
Momentarily they sip champagne
Soon come blood of tyrants in chalices.
Yo throw your fists up for Wiels
Ancestral madrina’s sprinkle teardrops
when that long white hearse pulled up rites of rebellion burst
Buckets of water baptizing
A poet recites with revolutionary celestial honors
Soberano Bringamosa’s bust their battle cry
A plate of Papaya Stoba at the Palu Blanku roundabout. An ofrenda to his Sarantoni spirit.
San Wichi they scream: You awakened our critical consciousness through Paraguiri indigenous and 1795 Blackness.
A struggle class arises triumphantly.