Move On

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  • Political

    Move On

    Move on
    Moving into my thoughts or moving out of my mind
    No, I’m moving on
    I had a sociology teacher once
    Who thought I might be one of the great minds of my time
    But a lover who thought I should quit school
    And chase that almighty, dangerous dime
    So I chose school over my lover
    And I
    Moved on
    When I go back to my old hood
    I’m looked at as some cat under a hood
    Simply because I choose a better route
    I got tired of that corner
    Chasing dreams, and fulfilling loners
    I moved on
    When I look at the state of our economy
    We got here from some bad home loans
    And I was sadden to hear of a little old lady who hung herself
    With the cord of some phone, when someone took her home
    So the economy has overshadowed that our best fit for President is black
    And people no longer say our best fit for President is black
    But that our best fit for President, is our best fit for our economy
    Imagine that
    Money made them folk forget about color
    They moved on
    So when I look at my people
    Why do we continue to oppress ourselves
    I know about slavery, but it’s over
    Move on
    These issues are far deeper than slavery
    And a man named Willie Lynch once spoke of it
    He talked about us and ended with the thought
    That if you gave us surplus
    We would enslave ourselves
    We would create division
    We would live with no purpose or cause for revision
    Our women would seek many men to please their desires
    Raise their daughters the same way and raise their sons to be weak
    And our men would father many and forget that on the hills they were once Kings
    All they would remember was that they were broken like horses
    In some all forgotten ring
    So if I sound mad, I am
    Let’s support our brother
    And move on
    By: Da Bishop
    (Obama for President)








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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Bishop12’s Poems (7)

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