Resurrection
I stare death in the face gracefully
Over mimosas, cheese crepes and pastries
Caressing life in the small of her back
Smiling, she turns to smile back
Through her foundation of Facts
My hands on her spine
Dividing page after page
I peak into my past and my future
I can read the psalms on the parchment
Gripped by the sweaty palms of a prophet
I can see the chakras and the sutras
My life is clothed in a spiritual cloth
I dice cloves in my ritual broth
I'm as wild as the Scottish Summer Isles
I'm a god, in my African garb
On the white sand beaches of Zanzibar
I am a traveling man
To lands so expansive
Official transcripts of my transit, don't enhance it
I can feel the thread from the loom
On the bed I'm gonna die in
The hospital room I'll re-arrive in... at the resurrection..
A little bread, a lil wine and it’s fine... At the resurrection
Picture me naked, Sacred and Sublime... At the resurrection
I’ve died several times, and now I rise... At the resurrection
A little bread a little wine, and it’s...

I am the joy of an innocent boy
I am the blessed overtones of those double X chromosomes
I'm a critical study, exceptional math
I'm theory and praxis
The intellectual class
I am doubtful, I am hopeful
I am vocal and I am complex
Holy City, Black, local
In a global context
I'm the history and the prophecy,
I'm benevolent
I am heirs' property swallowed up by development
I am depression and expression, I'm water and blood
I am the comfort and the company misery loves
I am the solemn oath and the broken promises
The feelings of desire
The higher consciousness
I am burdened, feeling unworthy, though I am alive
I am feeling lost on a journey, though I have arrived
Needing moments of my own peace
Though I am denied
Every day I cry a little inside, hoping to rise... at the resurrection...
A little bread, a lil wine and it’s fine... At the resurrection
Picture me naked, Sacred and Sublime... At the resurrection
I’ve died several times, and now I rise... At the resurrection
A little bread a little wine, and it’s...

I am the fruitful bud of African native folks
Ushered into bondage for garments
I am the revelatory shine of gold and fine diamonds
Mined from those remote climates
I am the work song
The Blues lick
I am the orphan's improvisational Jazz
I am the drums and the brass
I'm all of the exploited
The boycott and the black dollar
The boy children, the adolescent
The black Father
A broken chain, a vocal refrain
I'm a James Jamerson bass in a Berry Gordy domain
I'm a James Brown tenor shout
Screaming out... holding notes
The pride of my poor, southern Black working folks
I'm a rebel on these chords
I'm a funk brother
Over routine rice cuisine
I am the Gullah words of my grandmother
"Oonah chillun bettuh min'.."
Consequences of decisions when it's time... for the resurrection
A little bread, a lil wine and it’s fine... At the resurrection
Picture me naked, Sacred and Sublime... At the resurrection
I’ve died several times, and now I rise... At the resurrection
A little bread a little wine, and it’s...