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letra de this is madness - the last poets

[intro]
this is madness!

[verse 1: umar bin h-ssan]
all my dreams have been turned into psychedelic nightmares
with rosemary’s baby pissing in my face
and tiny tim sticking his moldy penis into my bleeding mind
as it cries for the strength to repel the sanctimonious sounds of the white rock group the grateful dead
dead are my aspirations
as they struggle for a sweet smelling breath of life
while being choked by the christianic gas p-ssed by the most reverend bishop j. fulton sheen as he socks it to us
ooh, in the name of the lord now…
and my realities have turned into a stone figuration of miss liberty
as she stands on the corners of the world selling herself to anyone
with the head of george washington on them
and all the while
he sits on a throne of eagle shit with ddt in one hand and a white
tornado in the other wearing a crown of castrated black d-cks
and reading the non-violent thoughts of gandhi
and i watch him relax by playing golf with roy wilkins’ b-lls with bayard rustin glued to
his thing while xerox copies of martin luther king are popping from his skull to dream the impossible dream
knock knock! who’s there? it’s rap brown
and if you don’t open up, i’ll strike a light, and burn your house down
and i see malcolm’s spirit, his eyes burning red
black and green flames and crying tears of thunderbird wine that seems to touch my lips
and make me thirsty for a taste of freedom!
freedom by any means necessary
it’s necessary to have freedom by any means necessary
and i begin to hate with love, and love with hate

[chorus]
this is madness!
this is madness!
this is madness!

[verse 2: umar bin h-ssan]
and i look up to see the moon bleeding lifeless white maggots and
screaming for my help
as the eagle’s raping claws rip and tear at its virginal form
oh isis, oh tuthmosis, oh sun ra
oh allah, bismillahi rahman nir raheem
give me your undying strength to rise up and reorder the cosmos
so that man can truly understand and appreciate the cosmic beauties
and realities of science and love
and he has turned the feminine part of me into a sexual freak
look at her standing there wearing her micro-miniskirt
made from the strands of freud’s mother’s pubic hairs and her uncovered br–sts
dripping blood and pus and her lips colored with that anesthetic
white woman called avon
and yet she smiles at me through the
indignity of bull conner -j-c-l-t-ng sperm into her mind at night in
his wet dreams
and her soft wet clinging tears of love seem to flood
my heart with strength to gather all my manhood from my heart with
strength to gather all my manhood from my lower head and to put it
back into my upper head and then to put her back on her pedestal
as my love queen and not my sex queen

and i hear my mother’s voice rustling in the wind reminding me of
the many times he tried to rape her of her blackness
but she with the strength of a panther, the swiftness of a cheetah, and the cunning of a lioness would not be caged up with the other lies that kept me from being totally free
and when she came home at night
i could smell the musty closeness of his body and see his translucent
fingerprints on her tired weary physical structure depressed from
warding off his beastly attacks
but she would smile that smile of a thousand black orchids at me
not realizing all the while that
the anger of a hundred simba’s was residing in my soul

and during all this time my father was somewhere drowning his
mutant plastic-minded self in a bottle of cheap wine letting that
spiritual catalyst john coltrane pay celestial homage to that white god who was riding his main vein

[chorus]
this is madness!
this is madness!
this is madness!

[verse 3: umar bin h-ssan]
and diana ross, how can you be supreme and sing songs of black love
when your mouth is overrunning with the sperm of trigger?
and william styron is going to commit suicide when he finds out
that nat turner made love to his great great grandmother
and he has taken our most violent and militant leaders and stuck lollipops up their -ss to pacify their black power farts
and he is beginning to -ssume that all of us were born under the sign taurus the bull, because all we do is bullshit!

[outro]
this is madness…
this is madness…
all this madness is madness…
this madness must stop…
madness this is…please stop all this madness!
please stop all this madness!
please stop all this madness…stop!

- the last poets

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