Bones of A Slave
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America, home to chronic hysteria. Esoterica, dealings done deviously. Few ask why she operates in the dark.
Who is America, I'm not really sure. America’s identity is obscure. She was woman, Lady Liberty, Colombia. Now he is man, Big Brother Uncle Sam. No wonder why America calls Christians against homosexuality bigots filled with hate, America zirself pulled a Bruce from Cait.
Wait. Who are we? America has changed how it identifies? I’m confused. Have I been rused? If America has been artifice, not forthright, of what xe is, then of what certainties have I been beguiled?
America has changed? America has changed zirs morals and values? But what of America’s dearest declaration, most prominent proclamation? Freedom. Has freedom changed? The conditions to be free have.
We still have the freedom of speech to preach and teach but do so very discreet because many will disagree and unlike you and me, which can affect our popularity and salary. Fear is freedom’s leech. People can no longer reveal their beliefs, because they're afraid of the griefs of public ridicule. They can't stand for Jesus any longer, they have been sitting in their cubicles for so long that forgot how to rise. Paratheist, lost all feeling and sensitivity with The Body.
Free thought is enslaved, in shackles. Free thought is fee bought and your soul is the payment. People now sell themselves to become free.
Freedom has changed. Freedom used to be bought for, war and constant onslaught for, it used to be fought for, brave warrior's bodies would rot for, bled from teeth of beast and buckshot for, run away and never be caught for, learn to read and survive self taught for, pain and misery never ceasing fraught for, prayed a lot for, I'm not throwing away my shot for, I'm not moving from my spot for, join in arms and boycott for, arrested and mugshot for, bold like Arthur in Camelot for, defeat my oppressors with a slingshot for, fight with everything we got for, never become a robot for, never surrender my free thought for, oh freedom has changed.
I will not bow down to this slavery obelisk, I will speak against this silencing shackling apocalypse, with all the air in my lungs and esophagus, I will share my free thoughts regardless of the consequence, I'll stay woke while you live in unconsciousness, until I'm laid to rest in my sarcophagus.
Counter cultural, uncontrollable, won’t see no for sale sign stapled to my soul.
I will not be still or silent, I will be vocally violent. Don't care if you belittle me, my God is a giant. I have power in my voice, slavery for me will never be a choice. I will be free even in my grave, my eulogy will read: Believed in Christ, who is mighty to save. My epitaph will never say: Here lies the bones of a slave.
Bio
Bryen Hurd is a spoken word artist from Orlando that is using his God-given gifts to speak truth, love and hope into the broken world.