RELEASE 1: FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF

Broken Cement 

By: Rami Naamna

Glass shattered on my floor from the bullet shots the night before 
A drive by destined to end my life because of my affiliations 
Putting my whole family at risk for the sake of currency 
Socially constructed concepts interacting with socially constructed concepts resulting in black on black violence 
Violence that I could’ve avoided had I not taken part in it 
Night before, street lights gleam on the cement with every cracked piece being an area of injury 
Representative of how injured our neighborhood was
They say step on a crack and break your mama's back and I didn’t realize whether or not they meant it literal
Until the morning after my night stroll 
I wake up off my mattress, couldn’t afford the bed frame 
Window panes locked shut cuz the landlord won’t open it up
No door and creaky stairs I walk out and down from
Family sitting on the broken sofa we’ve owned since my birth, stained red from our siblings dead from drive bys 
This time the blood hit our carpet 
Momma lays on the floor with glass and blood, a soul equivalent to none 
Tears hit my eyes but I was told men don’t cry so I sit with my sister 
My other two siblings look at the corpse of her body and try not to weep
I wish I knew how to prevent a situation I had nothing to do with 
How to prevent black on black violence and the constant negligence our society places on a neighborhood like mine 
If I had a dime for every time I’ve seen a family member die from a drive by I’d have enough money for a kitkat
just enough to break it. 
-

A Crude Man

By: Rami Naamna

I consider myself above all, a mastermind in my field
Let the negros pick mine, lean back and sip wine 
White House owned by white man, that’s how it’s always been 
Don’t need Obama in house for the concept of “Justice”
He should call me master, or even pastor 
Grand savior, second coming of Christ 
All of these negros should look up to me, not up to Luther king 
Or Malcom X, they’d be looking down in both cases 
Graves don’t float in the sky, they’re where the cotton is 
So pick it while you can, dance with your hands 
Pick with your feet and sing loud with me 
“I’m a dirt negro and I pick cotton for my master, taken from my land to be abused while my blood line dies faster” 
Have a taste of all the success you’ve done for me 
You could never fathom all the work you won’t receive 
In terms of complexion I’m far on the bright side
Closer to the lord, the moon shines in the night sky
If you were black as the moon, then you wouldn’t exist 
I’d probably prefer it that way, I want all negros to die
I strive off the negativity and pain of the black man, no shame in the game of slavery when it’s in my hands
I feel the power of the whip when I use it on a being like you 
So don’t tell me how to use my privilege, power or truth
Truthfully, my truth revolves around what gives me pier
What keeps my privilege, I’ll make laws so I’m always on top 
I’ll make sure you negros are never above the law
I’ll make sure you negros always die to a cop
I’ll leave several negros for sale on the desktop
And come back to sales so extravagant a negro couldn’t dream being worth 
So much so I’d scam whoever purchased 
Cuz a negro outta die before I let ‘em get there