Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
Let the Prophet Speak
I heard this prophet speak the other day
and the things he said just blew my mind away.
Now this brother didn't sit in a pulpit
wearing a long black robe trying to look immaculate
spitting that same old feel good rhetoric
that you hear Sunday after Sunday after Sunday.
This particular message was different than the norm
it was broken down on nineteenth street and Broadway in poetic form
where a few of us listened intensely to what the brother had to say
Did y'all see that brother! "Yeah" one sister slyly said admiring the beauty
of the dread, but every thing he said went right past her head because she
could see his outer beauty, which is only skin deep and not see the inner
beauty from the bread in which to us he fed.
Did y'all hear that brother! "Man, is he finished? I always miss it! I only
caught the a few words of the last sentence, but it sounded hot. Yo mad
props, keep writing" one brother shouted out. If he was in tuned spiritually
to the energy as he professed to be acknowledging the three hundred and sixty degrees
then he would have caught the essence of the lesson with just one sentence.
Did y'all feel that brother! "Well actually I was feeling shorty from across
the street. I noticed she was looking at me and I had to go get that number
you see," said another brother. As the prophet left I dropped my head and I
asked myself did you hear feel and see him. Did his words of wisdom
invoke a change in my mentality? Not discouraged because the selected
few he had reached. So I yelled out loud as he walked through the crowd
"give him room give him room, let the prophet speak.
Written by Curtis Wright
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