RIP Gil Scott-Heron 1949 - 2011
Prince of the spoken word He lived it, he hated it, he wrote about it. He made so many like me who were so far removed get close enough to feel the sting and burn of it, walk a blighted urban mile in his shoes.
Picture a man of nearly thirty
who seems twice as old with clothes torn and
dirty.
Give him a job shining shoes
or cleaning out toilets with bus station crews.
Give him six children with nothing to eat.
Expose them to life on a ghetto street.
Tie an old rag round his wife's head and
have her pregnant and lying in bed.
Stuff them all in a Harlem house.
Then tell them how bad things are down South.
Picture a man of nearly thirty
who seems twice as old with clothes torn and
dirty.
Give him a job shining shoes
or cleaning out toilets with bus station crews.
Give him six children with nothing to eat.
Expose them to life on a ghetto street.
Tie an old rag round his wife's head and
have her pregnant and lying in bed.
Stuff them all in a Harlem house.
Then tell them how bad things are down South.