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Al St. Louis Generation Gap June 16th, 2003 4:43pm As day turns to night, night to dusk the dust that blows through windows of open minds In a continuous process 365 days in a year rotates like hit records on famous techs With gusts reaching speeds of 33 and a 1/2 or even 45 lp's per cranium Turning inside out as KrissKross once did do many minds but the time is at hand And millions need a helping, a serving of "whoop they ass to wake they ass up" We're lost, and that is a matter of fact statement Because the old, they don't understand the young And the young could give a fuck about the old But if this happens then what do we make of the tiny hold that we have on our history? What do we make of that fading sense of self that is apparent in communities given the name minorities as a form of suppression? Are we digressing? Straying from our natural role playing advocate for the devil himself saying... Maybe I am a minor! If so then what league do you play for? Seeing that the Negro Baseball League ran from 1885 to 1960 And that was a major accomplishment on a major scale where racism reigned, but in the end who prevailed? Are you a minor or a major? As the spoken words play on words let the school bell ring because class is in session Someone hit the gong because dinner is served food for thought Are these words heard? If not then we will continue to drill through the gray matter covering the cerebral hemisphere Because the cerebral cortex is responsible for higher brain functions But the only functions that seems to be high are our minds on the sticky icky And many of us spend too much time getting high instead of reaching high heavenly Why does our generation want to get high like Rita did? Is it to see clearly that we are the ones that will bridge that gap? The interruption of continuity, Gap as defined in Webster's dictionary The absence of information through a medium, often used to signal the end of a segment of information Could that be us? Will the information about our past be carried on to our future? Again I say that the old, they don't understand the young And the young could give a fuck about the old One stuck on their values, the other valueless Because television continues to stress how they dress and music encourages the young to wear vests under their Guess or Tommy Now you go figure, who's the real nigger? The ones that were once trapped on slave ships working on plantations or the new Caucasians that use the word as a form of expression just so they can be down Don't clown yourselves ya'll We're more major than Lee hitting more homers than Sammy with a corked bat Imagine that parents not telling their kids about the scars on granddaddy's back Or even worse not knowing themselves What needs to be done? What can we do? Bridge the gap bring it back The morals that have molded and shaped our generation and kept us on track Bring it back to let it have an impact on our sons and daughters So they can grow without knowing court orders And how to assemble baby strollers at vulnerable ages Bring it back so the gap can close until everyone knows that we must teach the young how to walk before they run Then teach them how to restore and pass on the very same information to the next... We are the ones to make changes We are the ones to bridge the gap We are the ones who need to search and dig up our past To find the truth about ourselves so we can be true to ourselves because if we know not ourselves, how can we be true to another We need to be true to our forefathers our brother's sister's cousin's uncle's auntie who lived to die, but died not in vain Because the pain that they endured ensured our generations survival so before we spiral out of the kink that links the darkness in our skin to the dark ages of that middle passage We need to be strong in our message to our generation's future Bridge the gap and bring it back if not, then their future will be lost forever Because a race who know not their past 1... are destined to repeat and 2... have no future Bring it back, back home June 19th, 2003 1:02am Created by Al St.Louis, Copyright 2003 |
