A nightmare from my too familiar past
Has me in a cold sweat from head to toe
For in this dream, I hear a shotgun blast
Then see Four Horsemen race off in a row.
Each imp is Klad in Klothes of Kotton white
Upon their skulls each wears a dunces crown
And in one hand each bears a bright torch light
Which echoes off each Fiendish sore-filled frown
Throughout the starless night, this ghostLee crew
Wreaks havoc...in Birth of a Nation II,
And o'er their wake of flames, I catch this cry,
'Niggahs, the rebel flag will always fly.'
Oh, in my restless fight, I toss and turn,
While in the regal South, black churches burn!
© Bernard A. Quarterman, Jr. 2002
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