WE RIDE

Ol'school Ride

We ride on the backs and breast of those that have come before

On ancestor’s shoulders and great, great, great, daddy’s toes

With drops of frankincense and myrrh and rows of gold around our necks

We ride on ocean waves of blue blackness on top of undersea ancient temples imprinted

of our blue colored faces

We ride on Congo drum beats

with dancing moving hips and

breezy Blowing dreadlocks

on cowry shelled waist bead covered bellies

We ride on lion’s mane and canine teeth

On Elephant tusk and Zebra stripes

On library book covers

On wall filled Art Museum canvases

We ride in church,

in-between church pews and in the lines of church hymns

We ride on Egyptian tombs encased in limestone adorned with

(Us riding) in hieroglyphic text

We ride on guitar strings and thumb machines

In Paris, Korea, Alaska, and of course Mozambique

We ride through Southern towns pass southern trees

In Submarines, Rockets and Purple Ford Cadillac’s

with hydraulics and wheels that float on air

We ride on the lips of poets and the high pitch sounds of Opera singers

On the laps of Authors and the laptops of professors

We ride on the cheeks of babies and the smiles of playground playing children

We ride on the thick skin of plantains and the sweet of yam

We ride on lilies and bumblebee stripes

We ride on the baobabs trunk and in Kapiti plains playing peek-a-boo through high grass

We ride on internet webs and crowded emails

We ride on white-gold Aunk wedding bands with matching anklets

On Milan fashion walkways jet black and bald even at the nape

We ride in fubu, and Rocka wear, Baby Phat,

Green converse chucks, and Alonzo Mourning Jersey’s

We ride on corner store newspaper stands

On billboard fonts and 8 track cassettes

We ride on veggie burgers and spicy chicken wings

We ride right past death, right through heavens gates

We ride on waterbeds, the backs of futons, canopy ropes and hardwood floors

In Ma Ma’s basements, and Granddaddy porches and Uncle Eddie’s barbecue

We ride in Kitchen stews and Afua’s “Heal Thyself”

We ride on double-dutch ropes and pebbled filled hula hoops

We ride on Panther fists and Tupaks rap

On Afrikan Liberation Day and at the Million man March

We ride on Shaggy’s Bombastic and Michael’s “Thriller”

We ride on Kush’s thigh in Shiva’s arms

On Buddha’s Nubian Knots

With Rasta purple smoke and bouncing booty

and swinging ankle bells

We ride deep

We ride full

We ride high

We ride low

We ride tuff and never ending

We ride deep

We ride Black and deep
We ride black

We ride black