Know of a surety that thy seed shall be a stranger in a land that is not theirs, and shall serve them; and they shall afflict them four hundred years. And also that nation, whom they shall serve, will I judge: and afterward shall they come out with great substance. — Genesis 15:13-14.
As he was studying and reading through his research materials, occasionally touching the ring on his middle finger on his left hand, his thoughts once again turned to the mysterious ring he was wearing, remembering that it had suddenly appeared out of no where, and, that the only fingers of his hands that the ring fit on, were his middle fingers. Hmm! He pondered out loud, and at that moment, he remembered the Scroll contained a message and poem that the ring sat on top of in his study, when he found it. A message and poem written on a scroll of papyrus — thick paper. On the inside of the scroll, the message had a unforgettable image that was split in half, down the middle, depicting on the left side an Ankh and what seemed to be an Egyptian Pharaoh, and on the right side, a Cross, and what seemed to be “the Christ - Jesus.” Underneath both images, were quotes: one an Egyptian Proverb, and the other, a spiritual quote from the Book of Luke, in the Bible. Looking through his inbasket on top of his desk, he found the Papyrus Scroll, exactly where he had left it. Unrolling it, he began reading…
“After 400 + years of slavery, Jim Crow laws, politically charged ruthless legislation, Africans — Nubians / Numidians / Kemites / Kushites / Egyptians / Libyans / Ethiopians / Moors / Aborigines / Indigenous Natives / African Americans / Blacks / Negros / 1/5th of a man / et al — now educated and restored in the wealth of antiquity’s cultural values and world achievements; awake now, pulling ourselves up out of imperial quagmire and misery — rising once again, intent on getting our just dues: Spiritual, socioeconomic and political justice in America’s imperial game of capitalism. Until that time, there can be no racial reconciliation without reparations and an act of contrition. There can be no righteous inclusiveness without reparations and an act of contrition. There can be no peace and harmony without reparations and an act of contrition. Humanity cannot and will not heal without these actions taking place in 21st Century modernity. And, lastly, earth cannot heal without America’s public act of contrition and paid reparations for their complicit enactment of laws to subjugate and denigrate Africans for profit.”
After reading the message he couldn’t help but recall a spiritual passage he had read in the Book of Romans, and he picked up his Bible and began to read Romans 13:7… Pay to all what is owed to them: taxes to whom taxes are owed, revenue to whom revenue is owed, respect to whom respect is owed, honor to whom honor is owed.
He, again, thought to himself after reading Romans 13:7… how apropos. Reparations and Contrition. It was then he remembered the poem, directly underneath the message that had apparently been written and signed by Lord, God Heru, himself — and once again, he began to read…
HERU’S POEM…
PRETENDERS! YOUR 400 YEARS ARE UP!
August 2019 pretenders, your 400 years are up, we’re back on top and rising, quit drinking the hypnotic Kool-Aid from your imperial cup.
Highly conscious now and awakened from a long restless sleep, reading our people’s stories in holy pages makes us weep.
Having cleansed ourselves of your lying kind, reclaimed our righteous Soul and Godly mind, once again proving ourselves worthy of inheritance — KEYS TO A DIVINE KINGDOM FREE OF YOUR ARROGANCE.
Walking again in the Spirit of Kemet's first pharaohs: Nubians, Kushites, Egyptians, Blacks, with the DNA of Abraham’s GOD embedded in our bone marrow.
August 2019 pretenders, your 400 years are up, we’re back on top and rising, quit drinking the hypnotic Kool-Aid from your imperial cup.
Re-educated about our ancestors and their first dynasties and magnificent cities, way before you came along with envy and your imperial treacheries.
Talking ‘bout “Alkebu-Lan,” mother of all mankind” called Africa today, MAJESTIC IN HER SPIRITUAL GLORY, til you came along flipped the script and changed the whole story.
Ahhh… home once again breathing clean fresh-air, navigating the cataracts of rich bountiful lands, doing our part and prospering in RAH’s divine plan.
August 2019 pretenders, your 400 years are up, we’re back on top and rising, quit drinking the hypnotic Kool-Aid from your imperial cup.
No longer rhyming about killing our brothers, nor denigrating our beautiful black sisters and nurturing mothers, WE ARE EVOLVED 21ST CENTURY NUBIANS, living life whole in RAH’S DIVINE CHI
Quit eating poison foods, like the “Golden Child,” we’re once again able to sprint a long country mile.
Quit breathing foul air, stopped chasing fake hair, restored once again in the Spirit of RA, WE ARE ALL THAT WE ARE, ANTIQUITY’S HEIRS.
August 2019 pretenders, your 400 years are up, we’re back on top and rising, quit drinking the hypnotic Kool-Aid from your imperial cup.
After millenniums of suffering the lunacy of you and your immoral kin, we’re finally at peace now, proud we no longer can be counted ignorant in the end.
Now we know you from your millennial wars and your psychopathic tendencies, the script has flipped back, you the one should be locked down in penitentiaries.
So today you best recognize and bow down when we enter a room, we’re AMUN-RAH’s LEGACY, here from the get go, living through your hell and impending doom.
Henceforth pretenders now you know we know what all this means, WE ARE ALL THAT WE ARE, THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA, the incarnate ruination of your evil plans and sick schemes.
August 2019 pretenders, your 400 years are up; we’re back on top, still rising, quit drinking the hypnotic Kool-Aid from your imperial cup. — Fini — The Beginning… HERU.
He sat smiling and reminiscing for a long while after reading H’Eru’s message and poem. Still smiling, he leaned back in his leather recliner chair and he couldn’t help but recall his African-American Study’s college professor, Brother Quinten Flukker. Ah, yes… the good and indomitable, Brother Flukker. He who had encouraged students to investigate their illustrious African history. Encouraged them to read different “afrocentric” authors who wrote about their illustrious history. Authors such as Dr. Yosef Ben-Jochannan, Dr. John Henrik Clarke, West Indian psychoanalyst and social philosopher, Frantz Fanon, Kenya’s president, Jomo Kenyatta, and Chancellor Williams, the renowned author of “The Destruction of the Black Civilization: Great Issues of a Race, From 4500 B.C. to 2000 A.D.”, to name but a few. All… world renowned authors whom the good professor thought would stimulate the minds of his students. Giants. Spiritual Warriors, the professor called them. He positioned his chair forward, and stood up, still smiling. Still reminiscing. He began tapping the top of his desk. Tapping on a page of an open book of quotes on top of the desk. Looking down at the specific page he was tapping, he realized that it was a page that contained a memorable quote of Jomo Kenyatta. As he read the quote, his smile turned to a broad grin. And he began to laugh out loud, again, thinking to himself, how apropos, never questioning how serendipitous things were beginning to unfold, remarkably changing his life. At that moment, standing, he began walking toward his apothecary at the back of his office. Once there he rolled a blunt and began to smoke it while listening to Donny Hathaway’s The Ghetto, playing on his stereo. After two or three puffs, with both of his arms raised, and both of fist clinched, he began to think of the brother, Chadwick Aaron Boseman, who had played the Black Panther, the first Black Superhero in the 2018 movie, nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars… and he shouted… Long Live Wakanda! while laughing hardheartedly at the juxtaposition that had just played out in his memories.
Consider this…
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