One thing, of many, that I like about Shelby Couttland’s poems is that she is fearless with her opinions and provides such a powerful voice for truth.
When the whites call me a “nigger,” it makes me want to kill.
When blacks call me a “nigger,” what the hell? Are they for real?
Rappers use that word and they claim it steals the sting.
But you know that you are lying, the white man pulled your string.
The money that you make from rapping to their tune,
Does it comfort you at night when you’re staring at the moon?
Black children buy your songs and they hear you rap that shit!
And then, there you go; you’ve scored another hit.
Is it really worth the selling out and to know your soul is dead?
Or do you even care because you’re bringing home the bread?
Pull up your sagging pants and go get an education.
Stop rapping about niggers; get off the white plantation.
They sold us just like cattle and…
View original post 186 more words
Tubularsock 