Reed Jones – aka iZrEAL - is a 21 year-old
arts student at Dalhousie University whose vision of social justice and equity
informs and shapes his poetry. Shantay and Reed are members of Word IZ Bond
– an exciting and innovative ensemble of talented young Black poets and artists
based in Nova Scotia.
Revolutionary Editing Date Unknown
Some Times (You’ll Never Understand…)
Some Times I feel the blood of slaves
Boiling in my veins…
Some Times I feel cotton field pain.
I feel my ankles… tired, tangled in chains.
Some Times I dream slave dreams…
Some Times I share their nightmares
And wake up damp, screaming
Tamed by reality:
Scared, 30 lashes.
For nightly dashes
To visit her…
Spend Some… Time…
I feel… like there are no words
In which I could serve
That would satisfy the hunger… the desire…
To let the heart and mind co-conspire in speech.
Some Times I reflect on my feelings
Some Times I feel rage when faced
With quick mental flashes of…
Images I’d seen before.
Images of… Civil Rights Movements
And Black Power Marches.
Images of… Rosa Parks
And Fred Hampton’s bullet-riddled Apartment.
And Images of Negro actors in Black Face.
I felt my body temperature rise… mesmerized.
The first time I…
Saw the blueprints of a slave ship.
Quick flashes of clips
From Spike Lee films.
The statistics on black males in jails
Teen pregnancy, AIDS in Africa.
Some Times they say
"I didn’t own any slaves, don’t blame me."
And I say ‘to myself’
You’ll Never Understand…
What you’ve done to me
Black descend psyche
Black ancestral me:
Slavery// The African Slave Trade//Middle Passage
Triangular Trade// Cotton Field//
Jim Crow// COINTELPRO//
Down South// Up North// America//
Up Up North// Fur Trade// Native Reserve//
Black Loyalists// Maroons// Canada//
Jamaican Sugar Cane plantation//
Rasta// Jah// Haile Selassie I//
Allah// Nation of Islam//
You’ll Never Understand…
What black/brown shades mean to woman and man.
Jan 16th-17th/2002 (11: something pm to 1:50am) Online
(not really really(almost)
I am (Revolutionary Version)
Who am I?
Your guess is as good as mine.
My name seems to change
Depending on who’s looking in my face
The government calls me Reed N.E. Jones
Some times they call me by my SIN number.
Church folk call brother
Banks call me by my account number.
My school calls me B00*****3
My boys call Izreal, and sometimes Dungaree.
My mom calls me her little revolutionary
My son will probably call me dad.
My old man calls me puppa
My girl calls me boo.
Her sister calls me Jones-z.
Some people call me atheist
Others call me a racist.
Some people call me muslim
Others call me Rasta.
In Africa they called me Reat,
Felix called me the Lion of Judah;
In kabakel they called me Jangok Jassey
My Aunt calls me Burt.
To make me act like a jerk
Some White folks call me nigger,
Some call me coloured,
The politically correct ones call me African
American (even though I’m Canadian).
So who am I?
Despite who or what I think I am I know that, first
I am a black face
I am suspect
I am reasonable cause
I am guilty by race
I am guilty before innocent
I am all black criminals
Who am I really?
I am the son of my parents
I am my sister’s brother
I am my son’s father,
A father who wants to raise a strong black man
I am Conscious rap, poetry and spoken word
I am hip hop
I am hp
I am a seeker of knowledge, wisdom and understanding
I am a collection of my experience,
A product of society, oppression, racism, poverty
I am truth and reality
I am flesh and bone
I am mental and physical, emotional and spiritual
I am growing and evolving
I am what you see when we cross path
I am Bigger and Nat
I am Malcolm and Garvey,
I am Huey and Bobby
I am Jah and Allah
I am black history, black present and black future
I am the descendent of kidnapped Africans
I am a black man,
A black man raised in captivity
I am all people who share the shades of my skin colour
I am BLACK and I am proud.