Chains
Acrylic on Canvas (11 in. x 14 in. x .5 in.)
(2006)
This painting was inspired by a line from the poem "Hate the Game":
Thugs grinnin’ and smilin’ with
Chains ‘round their neck
Gold ‘stead of iron
Have the same slave effect
Hate The Game
Boys claimin’ they’re men
Fast track to the grave
Thinkin’ they’re players
All the time bein’ played
Babies have babies
Mamas pass blame
Sisters and daughters
Don’t know their real name
Rappers proclaim
We just showin’ what’s real
Children then copy
‘Til the day that they’re killed
A system designed
To imprison our youth
Embellishing lies
Disguising the truth
Sisters disrobing
On video screens
Renouncing their rights
As African queens
Brothers gone wild
With lascivious acts
Minds chained to slavery
That’s just the facts
I’m not hatin’ the players
I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents
Got a lock on their brains
Hi tech plantations
Raping our village
Corporate execs
Continue to pillage
Movies corrupting
With negative themes
Drugs, sex and crime
A genocidal scheme
Influencing children
Repeating the hooks
Keeping them down
Re-writing the books
Plantations ain’t changed
In four hundred years
Still whippin’ and beatin’
Slaves into fear
Fear of lovin’ yourself
Men, women and kids
Fear of planning a future
Educatin’ your peers
Fear of seein’ the truth
Fear of havin’ respect
Fear of claiming a culture
Of wealth, not neglect
I’m not hatin’ the players
I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents
Padlocking their brains
Thugs grinnin’ and smilin’ with
Chains ‘round their neck
Gold ‘stead of iron
Have the same slave effect
House Negroes happy
They don’t have to go
Massa he love us
Let us sell all his dope
We better off now
We got bling, we got flash
Fat pockets with cash
And the massa just laughs
I’m not hatin’ the players
I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents
Got a lock on their brains
The dogs in the yard
Used to keep us at bay
Now we callin’ our brothers
By the same canine name
The Underground Railroad
Once used to escape
Gotta be resurrected
To end this slave rape
Young poets and writers
Rappers too
Gotta build new tracks
Preparing our youth
‘Stead of hatin’ on players
Who’s tryin’ to stand tall
Pick up the challenge
Pick up the ball
Read ‘tween the lines
‘Cause that’s where truth lies
Break out of the box
Start savin’ lives
Don’t be a slave with
A house, car and boat
Grinning and shuffling
Refusing to vote
I’m not hatin’ the players
I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents
Padlocking their brains
Ancestors suffered
Robbed of their name
Raped of their heritage
Think this is a game?
Strung up and hung
From the tallest tree
Whipped and tortured
In their fight to be free
All this abuse
To liberate you
Give you a chance
To start out anew
To resurrect families
Fulfilling your dreams
With culture and values
Silencing screams
Erasing the nightmare
Of horrendous attacks
Bringing back life
With courageous acts
Become heroes and heroines
To ones you hold dear
Leave legacies of love
Not those of fear
_____________________________________________
Copyright © 2005 by F. Geoffrey Johnson All rights reserved
(2006)
This painting was inspired by a line from the poem "Hate the Game":
Thugs grinnin’ and smilin’ with
Chains ‘round their neck
Gold ‘stead of iron
Have the same slave effect
Hate The Game
Boys claimin’ they’re men
Fast track to the grave
Thinkin’ they’re players
All the time bein’ played
Babies have babies
Mamas pass blame
Sisters and daughters
Don’t know their real name
Rappers proclaim
We just showin’ what’s real
Children then copy
‘Til the day that they’re killed
A system designed
To imprison our youth
Embellishing lies
Disguising the truth
Sisters disrobing
On video screens
Renouncing their rights
As African queens
Brothers gone wild
With lascivious acts
Minds chained to slavery
That’s just the facts
I’m not hatin’ the players
I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents
Got a lock on their brains
Hi tech plantations
Raping our village
Corporate execs
Continue to pillage
Movies corrupting
With negative themes
Drugs, sex and crime
A genocidal scheme
Influencing children
Repeating the hooks
Keeping them down
Re-writing the books
Plantations ain’t changed
In four hundred years
Still whippin’ and beatin’
Slaves into fear
Fear of lovin’ yourself
Men, women and kids
Fear of planning a future
Educatin’ your peers
Fear of seein’ the truth
Fear of havin’ respect
Fear of claiming a culture
Of wealth, not neglect
I’m not hatin’ the players
I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents
Padlocking their brains
Thugs grinnin’ and smilin’ with
Chains ‘round their neck
Gold ‘stead of iron
Have the same slave effect
House Negroes happy
They don’t have to go
Massa he love us
Let us sell all his dope
We better off now
We got bling, we got flash
Fat pockets with cash
And the massa just laughs
I’m not hatin’ the players
I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents
Got a lock on their brains
The dogs in the yard
Used to keep us at bay
Now we callin’ our brothers
By the same canine name
The Underground Railroad
Once used to escape
Gotta be resurrected
To end this slave rape
Young poets and writers
Rappers too
Gotta build new tracks
Preparing our youth
‘Stead of hatin’ on players
Who’s tryin’ to stand tall
Pick up the challenge
Pick up the ball
Read ‘tween the lines
‘Cause that’s where truth lies
Break out of the box
Start savin’ lives
Don’t be a slave with
A house, car and boat
Grinning and shuffling
Refusing to vote
I’m not hatin’ the players
I’m hatin’ the game
Dollars and cents
Padlocking their brains
Ancestors suffered
Robbed of their name
Raped of their heritage
Think this is a game?
Strung up and hung
From the tallest tree
Whipped and tortured
In their fight to be free
All this abuse
To liberate you
Give you a chance
To start out anew
To resurrect families
Fulfilling your dreams
With culture and values
Silencing screams
Erasing the nightmare
Of horrendous attacks
Bringing back life
With courageous acts
Become heroes and heroines
To ones you hold dear
Leave legacies of love
Not those of fear
_____________________________________________
Copyright © 2005 by F. Geoffrey Johnson All rights reserved
