The Twelve Days Of Christmas! (Black Version)

 

twelve days of Christmas Black version two

 

sing to the tune of “The Twelve Days Of Christmas.”

“On the 1st day of Christmas, my country gave to me, a chronic case of slavery!

On the 2nd day of Christmas, my country gave to me, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 3rd day of Christmas, my country gave to me, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 4th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 5th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, five lynching trees, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 6th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, six Ku Klux Klan’s men, five lynching trees, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 7th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, seven goons to beat me, six Ku Klux Klan’s men, five lynching trees, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 8th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, eight cops to tase me, seven goons to beat me, six Ku Klux Klan’s men, five lynching trees, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 9th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, nine racist judges, eight cops to tase me, seven goons to beat me, six Ku Klux Klan’s men, five lynching trees, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 10th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, ten ‘lords’ to pray to, nine racist judges, eight cops to tase me, seven goons to beat me, six Ku Klux Klan’s men, five lynching trees, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 11th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, eleven thugs a rapping, ten ‘lords’ to pray to, nine racist judges, eight cops to tase me, seven goons to beat me, six Ku Klux Klan’s men, five lynching trees, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!

On the 12th day of Christmas, my country gave to me, twelve Nazi guardsmen, eleven thugs a rapping, ten ‘lords’ to pray to, nine racist judges, eight cops to tase me, seven goons to beat me, six Ku Klux Klan’s men, five lynching trees, four racist names, three crack highs, two years in jail and a chronic case of slavery!” – now repeat real loud! “And a chro-nic case of SLĀĀĀ-VER-RĒĒĒĒĒ!”

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

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Now start celebrating this goddamn bullshit! Decorate the fucking tree. Wish every damn body a Merry fucking Christmas, gorge yourselves on a butchered pig, while becoming one, and then open up yer debt! Even if you’re drunk, you’ll recognize it; it’s plastic and its made in overseas sweatshops! So do the corporations a big huge favor; buy, buy, buy and then when it’s all over, throw the tree on the curb for bulk trash pickup because remember, we’re worried about the health of the planet, you goddamn hypocrites!

Tears Stream Down My Face

tears I cry

Tears stream down my face as I take a look around.

So many I see struggling just to stay above the ground.

A human spirit fights but the blows are just too much.

The callous and the cold; no love will ever touch.

With frightened, pleading eyes, a child looks up at me.

She is only five years old and she’s called a refugee.

Her country is at war and she does not understand,

that people kill each other just to get the upper hand.

Another child across the sea is homeless in her way.

Her mother lost her job and the rent she could not pay.

With frightened, pleading eyes, a child looks up at me.

She is only five years old and she’s called a refugee.

Yes, tears are in my eyes and I hate the world I know.

Where little children suffer and are not allowed to grow.

When the sick are left to die and the greedy have no soul.

They never see the hungry when they hold an empty bowl.

A world in pain and agony; a world in mortal sin,

and everywhere you go; there’ll be a child who’s weak and thin.

Another world there is of pomp and circumstance.

No Cinderella’s ball; it is a never ending dance.

What jewels are on display; fountains flowing with champagne.

And a child looks up at me and her eyes are full of pain.

Yes, tears are in my eyes as I see no hope at all,

and above her little head, a bomb’s about to fall.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland

Join The Movement!

globalization

When the parasites have sucked us dry and evil rules the day,

we’ll turn upon each other as the ‘Hunger Games’, we’ll play.

One by one, we’ll be picked off; the lords will slap their thigh.

The ruling class will drool as they watch the peasants die.

We need no drummer’s beat, this is no marching band.

No dress rehearsal needed, the final act is planned.

Before the day is done, will our numbers shrink or gain?

Or will the movement grow just like a spreading stain?

Fear is not our friend, it’s the enemy don’t you see?

They want us to give up, and never to be free.

Some have lost it all, they’re hollow-eyed and gaunt.

Others lie in graves; their spirit’s on the haunt.

Need we all succumb to the lords’ decree for us?

When they throw a hungry victim underneath another bus.

The battle will be long and there is no way to know

if we will be victorious in vanquishing our foe.

There soon will be no option as it all comes to a head.

Either we engage the enemy or we will join the dead.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland