Battles is a spoken word demo highlighting the scores of problems faced by ethnic minorities at the hands of authority figures, racist groups, and the mass media.
I wrote and recorded the poem in the wake of horrendous events like Ferguson, the shooting of Jean-Charles de Menezes, and the death of Stephen Lawrence. I have felt the weight of institutional racism and oppression myself, and felt others should be made more aware of the effects it has.
I once heard a short account
That "when it rains, it floods,"
But it took at least two hundred years
To stop the rush of blood
And even now, they march the streets,
They claim to keep the peace
Racists, protected by police:
Will Stockwell moments ever cease?
The firebombs keep coming,
And they'll keep coming still
Every time that news reporters claim
That British blood was spilled,
And like native, sovereign terrorists
We fight until we're killed
But nothing's well under the sun.
My ancestors ran away from their plantations
As their ill-remembered masters angered up the blood, and wrote:
"Freedom wears a cap without a tongue."
We still fight battles
With our drums and our guitars
We shout out every fucking note.
Until we choke, convictions lodged in our throats.
There are obviously problems
When we're so fucking embattled
That making your way through life's a hassle
Even when the chains you rattle are slack,
You're still shackled
With mind-forg'd manacles
Daily Mail down palace walls
Submissive - but with modern tools.
And you can shoot a nigger dead, copper
Proper easy mark,
And then condemn the racial tension
When you lit the fucking spark
And like a man jumping a barrier
Means police can jump the shark
Nothing's well under the sun.
credits
from Stories,
track released April 22, 2016
Asher Baker - Vocals, Lyrics
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