The MUD- For displaced peoples worldwide

By Nadine Thomas-Brown
April 6, 2008


Come walk with me to never never land where
Coal black eyes reach out from a field of dreams
Where hungry children walk bare foot on unpaved streets
Bellies bursting with the pus of politics
the hope for a better way their only meat
their parents bitter cup their only drink..

Come walk with me through the mud
Where squashed generations thrive planted in the brown muck
Where men’s lives are fucked with in the carnival of multi colored houses
While tabloid ministers fat on young pussies
and over developed developments, their children safely ensconced in
foreign lands of which they speak ill, talk shit for the benefit of the stupid.

But soft, what is this? the mud? It’s leaking out
Stop it before it contaminates, procreates,
Too late it’s out walking about it’s in your genes
In your fiends, the ones you created when you pushed the backs of blacks against the wall
Kinda like in the days when
caucasians were the ones dishing out racism and all types of scisms
Now it is you fat cat, you who do that but you black.

One day soon The worm might turn , then your hopes too might burn like the people you spurn
hope you have toilet paper when the shit hits the fan.
Shit hits the fan, you mr piano man, you mr. music man you
Fast talking, stink fingers in your bungie man, sleeping with children man,
Ignoring women’s rights man , children’s rights man.
People’s rights man….

Man this shit’s fucked up….