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| Queen Scorpyon |
| Written by renita dotie |
 |
 |
Re'Nita Dotie aka |
In the midst of Autumn of 1979, a female child was bored. From day one an Angel had to smile down on me. "Smart as an Owl," they said. Who knew brains would bring burden. Hiding who I was became a new game. "Can't let any one know the real me," I thought. Held my head down in shame. Brainwashed to believe being brilliant was a disease. Traded high school for trade school, graduated with a G.E.D., then went straight to the US Army. Needed discipline, needed to see the world thru different eyes. My eyes were opened; fighting a white man's war... There was no coping. Stripped down out of my battle dress uniform and put on my civilian clothing. Free world, here I come. Armed with confidence, discipline, and a new hunger for life, I, the little girl whom once held her head down low became a woman, a college graduate, a mother, a lover, a friend, and a Queen.
You Don't Know Me
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thruYou don't know what it's like,
To have your six year old daughter robbed of her innocence.
Climbing on top of her and murdering her with his unnatural thrusts.
Feeling like a shotgun, emptying off in her guts
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
Forced to let my child go hungry...
While the milk from my sore breasts feed your yunguns
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
My hair is nappy...
From slaving twelve hours a day in the scorching, raging, hot sun
Working in your fields from dusk to dawn
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
You don't know what it's like sleeping in a one room house on cold floors,
Holes in the ceiling... No heat.
A mob of white men bo- guarding their way into your home,
Looking for a "Nigger" to beat
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
You don't know how it feels to see the man you love,
Stripped of his manhood,
Watching as his wife is being violently gang raped by the Klan hood
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
You don't know what it's like to pray day after day,
Singing ol' Negro spirituals:
'"Swing low, sweet chariot
idth Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home..."
Wandering if there is a God and if he hears the cries of the tortured,
Brutalized, abused, the nobodies on Earth
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
Burying my brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins,
Before they're even adults
Killed for reasons as simple as an insult
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
You don't know what it's like,
To have a rope tied around your neck, pissing your pants,
Hanging from an oak tree, for the whole town to see.
Watching your grandmother, grandfather say yes ma'am, yes sur,
No ma' am, an' no sur to someone less than half their elder
RESPECT my ASS!!!
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
We have the right to be angry,
Because even today some of my people still going hungry
You can read or write a million more books on History,
You still wouldn't know me.
Even if you walked in my shoes,
You still wouldn't know what the fuck I've been thru.
You don't know me; you don't know what I've been thru
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