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Zyen Smoot

Oh, “word?” 

Better than saying nothing at all

Keeping true to the radicalized call or the rolled-up sticky talk of the congregation we might blow into

“Word” is true

To the validation of statements laid upon us

Let it resonate into the high pitch of our hair 

Turning faces and making black glares against blue traces we walk through

“Word.” And we splatter you. 

“Word.” And the rapidity of our bodies no longer duck and dive.

We take the right and they take the left

No, we are not speaking democratically to the republic you rep

This is a revolution; we speak jive

“Word is bond.” And you run and hide. 

“Word up.” To the light, we won’t be seeing tonight.

Word. And we keeping it high.

We keeping it right. 

We keeping it real.

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