Hope Is Delicate Suffering.

Atheist Jews Double Crossers Stole Our [black People’s] Secrets. . . . They Give Us To Worship A Dead Jew And Not Ourselves . . . . Selling Fried Potatoes And People, The Little Arty Bastards Talking Arithmetic They Sucked From The Arab’s Head.

When I Die, The Consciousness I Carry I Will To Black People. May They Pick Me Apart And Take The Useful Parts, The Sweet Meat Of My Feelings. And Leave The Bitter Bullshit Rotten White Parts Alone.

From The Slave Ship To The Citizenship We Faced A Lot Of Bullship

Art Is A Weapon In The Struggle Of Ideas, The Class Struggle.

The Landscape Should Belong To The People Who See It All The Time.