I went to the bookstore on La Silky
Kotob Khan was more like a community
The people who worked there became my family away from family
What we shared was a love for books, Islam and our humanity
I went there to read and write to maintain my sanity
As time flew rapidly, fast forward to calamity
The Arab Spring happened so dramatically
The revolution was happening
Democratically
I asked for books that would educate me beyond the flat screens
Shafiq and Amr recommended Naghuib Mahfouz and Galal Amin
Practically, taught me more about their culture
Introduced me to Muhammad Munir and the Ultras
As the Pulitzer Prize winners held their poses, hanging on the posters
New water boiled over
Steam roller
The protesters grew bolder
The revolution was NOT over
I ignored the TV cameras and clamor
And questioned my brothers who had answers
Mixed with stamina
For me protesting was no rarity
This was not a parody,
I stood in solidarity
You could feel the tension in the air we breathe
Amr told me to meet them at the Bookstore and from there we would march with the thousands who took it to the square MC
Equals E
I showed up thirty minutes earlier than the scheduled meeting just to make sure we were leaving
Amr wore the Egyptian flag like a cape, draped
Shafiq was already downtown, but he called and said wait
Soldiers were checking pa**ports and me being from the States might not be safe
So they advised me to go back to my place
My Literary Military who promised me protection admitted what was at stake
Freedom
The thought of my children in this foreign land was the only thing that made me hesitate leaving
The walk home didn’t feel great
I felt like a waste
Foreign,
Sitting in my apartment dormant
Mind racing like Gordon
My friends were out there united
And I felt like I was at home hiding
Helpless
I felt like crying to Allah for guidance
Then I picked up a pen and started writing…
lyrics
Big nation
fist waving at a dictator
Draining power from the generators
The man woman and child, across the generations
Everybody entangled
Crowd under the arid clouds,
but missles raining
Gang banging see the blood and the cripple babies
Poking out a nipple lady
run away, they Lynch and hang’em
They say the system’s changing
Turntables
trigga fingers mixer fade em
But the big stations still didn’t play’em
Bloodthirsty east to wes like mister kraven
Is this Satan? demons waiting on a demonstration
missed prayers
tents pitched in the big square
Welcome to the glitch matrix
They omit data
tick tick tick tick tick
hanging
getting impatient
armed soldiers vs the brick masons
penetrated
tears dangle from the gas wears the ventilation
Get it? get vacant
No more kids playing
inflation, infiltration, causing inflammation
Mr-Mis-Information
Pushing displacement
disc causing discomfort like you piss razors
Instigators teeth way sharper than a swimming gator
not really complicated
ignorant to danger
sometimes the bullets went stray and a couple hit strangers
Modern times like the Pharoahs from the distant ages
It’s an understatement if I told that the sh**s crazy
It’s really no time to get lazy
Sun rais’em where the Nile is the river basin
Winter blazing but some hearts seem refrigerator
Bin ladens in the city no relation to a bin Franklin
Receive a standing ovation on ya chin greying
Wise said a sword ain’t as mighty as the pen and page is
Revolution in a Facebook/Twitter nation
politicians over the hill,
this more like Himalayas
Lifestyles of the rich and famous
Religious statements from the one who kiss the babies
But their hearts seem rotten like the apple
I ain’t talking where the knicks is playing
Figure skaters
in the palace with the Piston players
different neighbors
Poor people with the pinched payments
Vent hatred
The early birds get it first, hook the fish later
And that’s deeper than a splinter cut traveled by some Witch hazel
Heard it thru grapevine of my temptations
Time to get naked for a minute, bare facts
Dick, an*s say hooee
for the pimp players
Licking lips
fingertips
feel shackles on the wrist ankles
The newspapers printin hatred got it mistaken
Propaganda hit the fan
and now the sh** stanking
When the camera’s shoot
stars get spangled
Watch the banners get tailored be the first one to get famous
Life’s a b!tch
But some lives can be the Vic,
Michael may be in the pits player