Born A Negro

I'm from the west coast my favorite snack is cinnamon toast I'm a vegan I don't eat pot roast no more I have to leave my mama's house when I smell oxtails cooking on the stove it makes me weak I still drool and salavate remembering how good they taste I can still see em on top of rice on a plate something good I once craved grannies probably turning over in her grave to see the choices I made to adjust to the world today I wish great grand mama would've live long enough to see the Obama's in the Whitehouse that would've made her cotton pickon day she was born in 1886 and died when she was 86 on the twenty second of November 1973 I can't imagine what she seen in her day she was from Minnesota a place I never been I been almost every where but never there she loved to crochet it's ashame that we wasn't close knit her father was name George Washington like the president I can't help but get plantation vibes off of it they paid the way and paved the way for me although the road has not been easy the potholes are getting fixed and I don't have to walk barefoot in the snow and lose a toe and I wish ten cent could still buy a meal I'm grateful for the roots underneath my feet that keep me planted standing on a strong legacy and continued written saga when I say they I mean me too I mean us I mean we are a collective part of something great and far beyond our reach but we will get there someday and stand on the hill of promise and land that is ours to own reap the benefits of seed we sow and sown never to be owned oppress beaten and hung again at the hands of evil men where we going is not where we been