RAS ALBERT WILLIAMS PERFORMS POETRY FOR BLACK HISTORY MONTH (2012)

Описание: GREETINGS IN THE NAME OF HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, EMPEROR HAILE I SELASSIE I. JAH RASTAFARI EVER-LIVING EVER-SURE , YEAH HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY...YEAH!

Music: Sinim-riddim-dub by Brotheration Records from Pixabay

To see her smile For just a while is like a
Beautiful RAINBOW over the city of ROSEAU.
To hear her voice, in the midst of noise is like a cadence refrain
Again and again.
To hold her hand within my hand is like a…
A cluster of stars about our heads.
To kiss her lips,
Caress her hips is like a…
KISS from the Caribbean Sea.

We Speak Of A World
That we know best
The negro world of
J.R. Ralph Casimir.
Blackman listen to
The voice of a
Dominican
For the negro speaks
Like the sound
Of chained naked feet
On the plaza of he
Human market street

You too rude!
Oh! What a rat race.
Babylon system is a
Vampire,
But I’m a duppy conqueror:
So JAH seh.
RASTAMAN live up,
Live if you want to live.
Zion Train is coming our
Way:
JAH LOVE protect us…

I want to give you some
Love,
But the Babylon System is a
VAMPIRE.
Would you make the system
Fight
Against your Brotherman?
Oh no…oh no, dread no.
Turn your lights down low,
Let me tell you what I know.
I’m hurting inside.
They say LOVE is a stream
That
Will find its course:
JAH LOVE protect us…

Now I know who is the real revolutionaries, but who’s
Gonna
Stay at home when the
FREEDOM
FIGHTERS are fighting.
Babylon system is a
VAMPIRE
Sucking the children day by day,
But the gift of JAH is life.
JAH LOVE protect us…

My sweetheart sleeps in the coolest part of Crawley.
Her copper-coloured eyelids held tighter than
SEVEN HUNDRED MILES OF BLACK STAR LINERS.
Oh how lovely her mystic breath rushes out
and rushes in like vapours from a macadam street.
Her long, brown, locks flow from the crown of her head
caressing her shoulders as it flows like the ancient ROSEAU
RIVER that flows and flows and flows.
A deep sleep seduces I beloved like a mystery, but
the lady floats so effortlessly upon a sea of words.
I see her heaving breasts like two mountains a quiver
to the latent power that within her rests.
That grows and grows and grows in every poet’s heart.
That blows and blows and blows in every gust of wind.
That rushes forth down those macadam streets as old as
colonial history. — with Tempie Williams.