I'M One of Them

There exists a generation of men, Lavishly endowed with brainiacs, Great souls already smitten and scourged, but still invested with the dignity of immortality. Nifty intellectuals from the Black race, Arbiter of conducts with stabs at the back, And gold medals on their chests, Hearts from which fame sprang like sparks from an anvil. They have influenced the world, Yet, people are still wondering how they achieved that. To the shallow minded men, it hits them like A slow thought that crept like a cold worm through their brains. I’m scribing about the free thinkers, A name which sounds even now like the call of a trumpet, A sodality devoid of fatal moral hollowness, This might be deep almost as the mystery of life. I’m one of them.