In the Name of the Pope
Vanguard in death and deception,
Innocent hearts heed to his illusion.
Cry Mama Africa, cry for your children.
Angels with dark countenances are raised against them.
Rise black man, awake from your slumber,
Inactivate the medium that is deceiving you.
Understand, no! over stand the number:
Six, six, six is the number of a man.
From the west they came, with bibles and guns,
Igniting a fire, a burning desire to be like them.
Lost in the labyrinths of prayer, summoning gnomes and goblins;
In persuasion we fly with angels and jinns,
Incarcerated in spins of sins.
Dark is our external shades, but our heart is as red as blood.
Ethiopian blood stained the suit of the woman we dearly loved.
Is the black child a sacrifice to god, their god?
Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2010
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