“The Blues & The White Man’s Nightmare”

Don’t stop reading when you think I’m going into this whole realness thing again. Or Black & White. I’m just writing. Trying to find voicing words like decoding an unknown language, written on a role, hidden in a canvas(!) & understanding only by assembling without knowing what I’m actually construing. Damn, Saul. I bet your flow against any other Master Of Ceremeony there is. Even Kendrick’s. Fuck. Soo good.

I’m stoned hearing those lyricist throwing words like fire balls. Only that the Fire Is Earth Wind And Water in it’s purest form. It’s creation straight from the heart and total freedom. All those ripped off words in one phrase, I know. So I stop & give props to those who are the only real credit we have.

(…)”America provided the atmosphere for the blues and the blues was born
The blues was born on the American wilderness
The blues was born on the beaches where the slave ships docked
Born on the slave man’s auction block
The blues was born and carried on the howling wind
The blues grew up a slave
The blues grew up as property
The blues grew up in Nat Turner visions
The blues grew up in Harriet Tubman courage
The blues grew up in small town deprivation
The blues grew up in big city isolation
The blues grew up in the nightmares of the white man
The blues grew up in the blues singing of Bessie and Billie and Ma
The blues grew up in Satchmo’s horn, on Duke’s piano and Langston’s poetry, on Robeson’s baritone(…)”

Gi Scott Heron – Bicentennial Blues 1978