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  • Oscar Brown, Jr.



If it were not so sad it would be funny

All of the racial changes we go through

The “hunky” running from the “jungle bunny”

And the bunny dying to pursue

Why do we not now try changing our course

Why stay involved in an eternal bicker

Why do we not just file for a divorce

So I won’t be around being your “nigger”

That whole thing about chattel slavery changed

And we got all involved with civil rights

However since we still remain estranged

Why not just call a halt to civil fights?

To see a sour relationship improve

All you need do is help my family move


We do not spoil for yet another quarrel

And we sincerely promise, no hard feelings

If we can have a substantially moral

Termination of our American dealings

Help us get settled in a new location

Where we are not on each other’s last nerve

Where we can exchange visits on vacation

While each enjoys the freedom we deserve

There are enough of us who have the know-how

To fend for ourselves far away from here

It is time we allow ourselves to grow now

Allow disagreements to disappear

Imagine how delightful life might be

If from the other each of us was free


The moment chattel slavery concluded

Was not a time when we could steal away

By then, colonialism had intruded

On Africa, so here we had to stay

Besides it has required generations

To try to bring our people up to speed

But now the rate of our acceleration

Is at the point where it should be agreed

That we just relocate to our own space

Since neither wants us living off of you

We need to find a region to embrace

Where we receive respect that we are due

A new life in a new land we should try

Where we can cross our hearts and hope to die


Of course some of us feel quite patriotic

And that has served to ease some of our pains

For patriotism, a great narcotic

To counteract our injuries from old chains

A shot of American patriotism

Inspiring a warm feeling for the flag

Can deaden hurts delivered by racism

Covering the fact this country is a drag

If you can focus simply on “Old Glory”

It may not seem important as you do

That you are unaware of the whole story

Of what America has put us through

So deep is your American conviction

Your patriotism is a “drag addiction”


How did Dr. King come by the notion

There ever was a righteous, noble creed

To which America owed its devotion

“I had a dream” Oh, yes he did indeed

For he learned of no “creed” in Alabama

Nor could scholastic wonders Morehouse wrought

Have ever inspired such nocturnal drama

What did he study to inspire the thought

“I had a dream America will rise up”?

It sounds as if he bought in on a hoax

To which by now it is high time we wise up

There was to be no rise for colored folks

The facts of history confirm that that

Sounds just like something found where cattle’s at


The hoax is one that has been perpetrated

To make us believe we were “Free At Last”

Our “freedom” though was highly overrated

Soon over us a “civil net” was cast

That locked us under U. S. domination

A more insidious version of captivity

Confusing us with further “trickeration”

(Which is an all American activity)

It has been made to seem we have a shot

At someday being treated fair and square

When constitutionally we cannot

Slaves are ineligible for a share

The Masterson will not release his hold

And we had better do as we are told


What made Paul Robeson think a melting pot

Was what America was meant to be?

Whatever made him want to cast his lot

With those from whom his people used to flee?

To us the founding fathers were white knaves

And Lincoln reluctantly set us “free”

What recommends people who held us slaves

What change of their nature can we foresee

What cunning could persuade a brilliant fellow

Of Paul Robeson’s immense capacity

That here he could be more than Moore Othello

The hero of a racist tragedy?

Eventually, Paul Robeson, too fell victim

To all the facist forces that out-slicked him


Remarkably Condoleezza and Colin

Have now become spokespersons for the same

Men by whose ancestors theirs were stolen

In what has turned into a bizarre game

With bondsmen operating the plantation

(Which, philosophically, seems incorrect)

The kidnap victims feel an obligation

To the kidnappers interests they protect

By means of some fantastic trickeration

Their destinies have them both cast in roles

Revolving with the big wheels of the nation

The same old “Master-son” at the controls

Descended from those who enslaved black folks

How rolls the master wheel, with slaves as spokes?

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