Third World Eatery

In an oppressed society,
There is no one else to turn to
Except those,
Who eat the way that you eat
Those who have the same cravings as you
The same ones who needs that round and buttery Naan bread
To pass around the mirror image
Of matching chromosomes of pain and suffering
The same ones who swam from your hood to the promised land of another hood...
The same ones, whose overworked tender bosoms
Fed your need to connect with the ones that's
Sprawled all over your background-
Which cannot escape your identity...
Those spices, pepperin' your bland tongue,
Full of raw and unappreciated spots of menial labor
Just satisfies you...
Even if only for a few seconds-
Bottom line is,
It helps you to cope 'gainst
Those who fed you lies
'bout havin' no point in hopin'
for a better life, instead...
Handin' you, mo' ghetto strife....
But it sure makes those rice & beans con picante sauce taste serener doesn't it?
Gives you a utensil to cling on,
And many forlorn songs to sing about,
And more of their racist cynicisms to doubt...
But what about their grease?
Never ceasing to broil cancers into our assimilations-
No matter how much we tried to dance, step, and shake it off
For such a chance encounter is just too strong to bypass...
Unless you turn to the ‘gredients that loves ya
Pleadin' to continue the bond
Since before you placed a boisterous foot on this land
Smotherin' your glands with an involuntary helping of love,
Digesting with a slow burn
Poring right through your factory stained clothes…
Temporarily diminishing your woes…
Doctoring the white collared gangsta blows of capitalism,
Paternalism and endless brutalism…
With their ignorance, lack of conversance, and uncanny misunderstanding
Hey, what better way to sway their unwarranted confusion by,
Splashing their own chemically enhanced grease back in their faces,
Amusing their need to defuse us
Establishing a trust, that's so sharp and bitter
Pitted deep within the worms in their colons
When they squirm to death,
Caused by the power of your most delicious weapon…
And so,
“¿Qué pasa?”
What is the secret in your dishes?
Well… there's no need to reveal something that they'll otherwise,
Steal to destroy among themselves…
So remember to do you versus them
With lots of gravy on top.
And let that wash down,
Your peoples' mighty hearty hurting.

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