Skip to main content

Black Folks & Heaven...

I'm sure my Black folks will be really upset with Jesus
And his father, The Father, when we get to gaze
Upon those pearly gates and Saint Peter or some
Other stately gentleman passes out the heavenly
Brochure, detailing all the amenities and comforts
Of our newly constructed temples and I already
Know as we peruse that pamphlet Black folks
Will start a low grumble that turns into a silent roar
And followed by questions that begin with
"What about some..." or "Don't ya'll have any..."
Or maybe a few, "Can we get some..." and the
Other nationalities and races of the world who are
Truly thankful for this once in an after-lifetime
To be included in this celestial community
Will wonder why we would need 24-inch rims
On our chariots and question our motivation for
Wanting 2 bass players and a keyboard added to
The heavenly choir, but we would ignore these people
Because we want to know if there is a heavenly store
To pick up meat and hot sauce for the bar-b-ques on the
Weekends and Lawd knows milk and honey are great
But will there be any red Kool-aid or strawberry pop
And Saint Peter's eyes will certainly roll when we
Inquire about melting down a few gold bricks from
Heaven's thoroughfares to fashion some gold teeth
Or maybe construct a real "Jesus piece" in His honor
But we wouldn't dare stop there, the older folks would
Ask if the milk and honey was good for their sugar and
Who would be in charge of the greens and potatoe salad
Because even in heaven we cannot eat EVERYBODY'S
Potatoe salad and I can her some young girls chiming
In that if Chris Brown and Usher are in heaven, what time
Are they performing and some fools are suggesting we have
A heavenly revelation about who shot Tupac and Biggie, but
The white folks are against that forum because we would
Have to visit hell to get answers and its bad enough the
Darkies terrorized them on earth but they refuse to let
The Negroes lead them into hell, but that idea is quickly
Abandoned when we find out we have to take that boat
Across the river Styxx into hellish country because the
Last time Black folks got onto a boat we ended up in
Slavery and a group of elderly Black men ask Jesus
If they can live in the 9th ward section of heaven
Because they lived there all their lives on earth and
That starts the young folks to wonder if the heavenly
Mansions have central heat and air or ceiling fans
And do we get our own washers and dryers to keep
These white robes clean or is there a washateria
Close to the living quarters, but you already know some
High class Negro suggests dry cleaning and the first comment
Is who's going to pay for that, since we can't take any of the gold
Off the streets or any of the jewels out of the 12 gates and out of
Nowhere someone mentions football and you know the men
Are suggesting we sing praises between 10 & 11am to make sure
We don't miss kickoff on Sunday and that stirs the women because
They refuse to wash all those robes and keep an entire mansion
Spotless while the men lay up and do nothing all day Sunday
But the kids are really concerned that we continue to celebrate
Christmas and Easter since now that we are in heaven Jesus
Can show up for His birthday and death ceremony instead
Of watching us have all the fun and through this entire scene
Michael the Archangel has been collecting money from all the
Angels who bet that we wouldn't try to rearrange Heaven.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Gifts are Given...

Of course it felt like Monday. The chaos that normally ensues when you hit the jobsite was obvious today. Things were not going well. Things were late…jobs were not being done properly, but I pressed on as the minutes turned into hours. The stress of the morning was oppressive. The stress of the afternoon was even more stifling. But count it all joy. Normally the end of the week is smooth sailing. But normal is a cruel friend that only seems to show up when you don’t need him. I had to take a moment to just breathe and relax. In that moment God gave me a reminder – this job, this life, your assets are His gifts. God has allowed me to be in this position during this season and He is controlling this job. He gave it to me and in His wisdom He can take it away. It’s easy to stress or become frustrated over things that you think you control. But when you realize that you are where you are not because of your intelligence or hardwork or strength or resolve, then the picture becomes...

Ready for War...

The battle rages, from zero to infinite ages The blood drips, tasteless, and without fragrance The stench is foul, so flagrant, as I gaze in amazement The days when stars were a’blazing and Geico’s cavemen Saints blend in, defensive to sin, so they’re offensive to men Soul food’s not made in the kitchen my friend Visit with Him then ask for deliverance then Strap on the armor….you’re on a mission to win Dissent will come then as the demons are gathered And spring from the stronghold…but none of that matters I’ll take the Spirit and leave them all tattered Smashed into fine matter and leave their bones scattered Tell them stay off my lawn, equipped with Bibles and brawn Praising God with old songs and daring hellhounds to come Lucifer threw down his gauntlet, I’m dressed exclusive in blessings Satan made it to the playoffs…but heaven wins the series in seven Always testing, never resting, my God equipped me for stress And gave me resolve to keep living until He lessens my breath I’m imp...

Unknown to Many...

Cold breezes blow boldly, low feelings of losses No passion, no action, serene scenery glosses Tossed by swirling emotions, lonesome in this life Pretend strife is not visible like a bridegroom & no wife Because the standard is this, a man stands beside the Pit Can’t deny the riff as words of love die on my lips Tried & I tripped, fell over, but never in love’s shadow Tragic, no warm magic surrounded & I lost the battle Dazzled in my own light, not seeing the radiance of One So I traveled alone, not knowing I was only a torch to the Sun Deplored to run and falter, halted but I refrained to see Sought the other half of my soul, but she never came to me Remaining free, but true freedom lies in long hair locks That shimmer with womanhood and who holds a box In her bosom, for me and our union shall never part She will walk beside me and cherish my heart. As the silence from the keyboard dies miserably, Heather Headley croons “In My Mind” as though her soul had dined with ...