I am a man
it takes an entire village to raise a man
You’re not really innocent …
Guante is one of my favourite spoken word poets.
This is an excerpt:
Moving Train
She doesn’t say it but I see it in her movements
A gentle hesitance whenever we’re in tune with
The rhythm of each other’s music, it must be
She loves me but knows she can’t trust me
‘cause she was hurt by one who looks like me
And it wasn’t me but see I still might be
Deep underneath my beliefs
Not so different from him as I’d like to believe and it’s frightening
Tightening my throat I choke and die
On the culture I was molded by
And made strong by, and made silent by
And made cold as a heart made violent I
See something subtle in her face
Physically intimate still but a struggle to relate
On a deeper level, I guess people never learn:
You ain’t got to start the fire to burn, we all burn…
…
Why are we “reduced to tears?”
Why is it that we “break down” to cry? listen to the language
We’re livin’ in a matrix designed
To disconnect men from the pain that’s inside
Power, control, importance and performance
We give up freedom and more just to enforce it
And of course it’s, little more than a role to play
But we play it so willingly
Like every man is granted invincibility
But that which gives me power, slowly is killin’ me
Vengeance can never be better than prevention
And what her ex did is unforgivable
But when you punish the criminal
And refuse to take a critical look at the culture that shaped him
And your own role in that culture
You’re not really innocent, I’m not really innocent, face it…
…
I am a man 