THOSE PEOPLE

A black magazine for people too hip for black magazines. 

Ogou Is An Old West African God of War of Mine

Ogou Is An Old West African God of War of Mine

 

Drums, please.

Ogou
Ogou, O
Ogou I’ve need
Of you now, O 

I’ve need of you now

O, Ogou 

I’ve sung lots in the past to you, O.
Though I’ve now 

A much different faith,
O

This is too much to do alone:
There’s a dead child (bis)
Written into my lungs
That I’d like to sing
Ogou Ogou, O

Is it just
Is it right 

Is it just
Is it right
That elegance
Steals the spotlight
From night 

What I mean is that
the child (bis)
Was shot 

Then came the smile
Television
The president
Those shoes 

All was then fine
Except for you know
The usual suspects
Who are all in the wrong
But
Not the man in power 

Ogou
Ogou, O
Who's in the wrong
Who must I point to
Name an enemy
In the name of
Bringing back empathy
In a large enough bag
For all to feel

Ogou, O
Ogou, O

Or have you
Gone
Back home?

 
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Gravitational Blackness

Gravitational Blackness