Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

The music in me

A whoppity bop be bop scoodly do bam, a razz a ma taz.
Hear the sounds of that old big band.
Hear the machine gun sound of the snare drum pound
The sweet melody of that ivory tickled piano keys
Played to a up tempo beat
Feel the groove and move of that bass line scale
As the blare of the horn and snap of the fingers fill the air.
Daddy O, out of sight, man that cat's crazy
The sound of that old big band goes the music in me.

Chink splat klank, chink splat klank goes the sound of heavy chains
All rhythmically and methodically moving the same way
Binding black skin to his and her kin
Binding black skin to the will if other men
Feel the crack of the whip across the back of another African brother, rebelling
Against the hands that oppresses people of color
Running fast, running strong, running on, planning their way of escape
Negro spiritual songs.
Woe oh woe, woe oh woe, the music in me goes on.

A loud cry of their voice and the stomp of their feet
Hear those African drums tell a story with every beat
With thunder they do dance, and with thunder they do chant with great strength
And unity.
And with wisdom their tribal elders speak with their pupils listening attentively at their feet.
They walk with great pride, dignity and with their heads held high
We are great warriors is the call echoed to you and I
We are great warriors proud and free
We are great warriors goes the music in me.

Written by Curtis Wright


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge