I am who I am, but some people call me black.
They don’t just call me black, they also say I’m dirty and dark
I do what others do; and I could even visit gutters in search of food
When I do so, they call me a fool..
They know me by dirty rags, and they also give me negative tags
They say I am black and bad
One thing I do know is that, forward ever I must go,
Lest I fall prey to oblivion’s blow,
Lest I retard nor be deterred
With the saying that “I am black and bad”
Yes! It is only my skin, it is certainly not an ill.
Imagine an eternity where the sun remains still
there will be neither rainbow, snow, nor colorful dark shadows
only a static season as white and warm as the tears of grieving bedfellows
Now, imagine that everything is white without a touch of black
Yes, I am black, but my heart is surely not so dark
Black is aesthetics and pulchritude, and not mediocrity or being whack.
Black is elastic in magnitude, black is deeper than the highest altitude
My abilities are limitless, my agility goes beyond irritability
I have endured what the sun could not
I have toured the world’s coast, sold, and bought
I have been accused of treason in cold and cuffs
I have yet enjoyed what the rest of the world have not
I have the best times, seasons, food, wine and snuffs.
If you say I am black and bad, would you say you are white and bright?
If you hate me or want me slayed, remember only black turns white to gray.
If you do know times and seasons, that’s why there is black and white
If you do not serve my god, don’t you say I don’t know how to pray
I need white, orange, red and yellow
I won’t say because they call me “the black bad fellow”
I would see them, ignore them, pass without saying hello
I would only justify their assertion that I am a very bad fellow