A Karavan From Karbala

XFactor by Professor A.L.I.


Saracens in caravans traverse barren lands/Embarrassed clans; cry in Sahara’s sands/The aftermath, slapping chests; gasping breath, /Spitting narratives; devoid of happiness/An audience of Africans, stories subconscious/Despite Arabic laws, imposters sponsored/In concert with monsters, who wrought this?/A massacre upon; the seeds of the Prophet/And sought to strip tonsils, from storytellers/Devils endeavor to sever message, forever/So parchments left bereft of quill feather/But elders rem-member, and sing of rebellers/Envision a menace-a false king who was jealous/And reckless; so selfish, he targets the helpless/Hearts melted in deserts, inside Bedouin tents/Innocent victims preserved by illiterate men/Who spit truth upon wind; women lament/Ignorance slaughtered, legitimacy questioned/In stories with signs, allegories and lessons/A message written, on hearts by bleeding crescents/The essence of scarred wrists, blood of innocence/Captured in verse, trapped by mental instruments/Rusty manacles sway, as palms clap on flesh/In Rhythm, like drum, heart beats in chest


Sliding cracked cedar beads, down an abacus/Calculating arguments, Afrocentric advocates/Prototypes of Atticus, who calculate in Arabic/Architects build, to celebrate black heritage /City’s scholarship, beyond Aristotle’s wit /Alexander’s books, with edits by Fatimids/Bedouins find fossilized footsteps of ascetics/The Kemetics, who honored Muhammad’s genetics/This was Timbuktu; Zaynab’s song was prophetic/And poetic, with message like Sundiata epic/Her ethics, showcase, the real from synthetic/Her voice, magnetic, consider this polemic/That Hagar was certain that water would surface/So a griot’s a wordsmith, born of her verses/They are histories servants, quenching the thirst of/A woman of truth, whose sad story had birthed them


When Mansa connects, with the black stone/Does he caravan cosmos, or trek back home/Did he hear stories of a woman on the wind?/Who’s father been the only child born within?/In his doubt, did he summon the marabout?/Legacy of Sufi scholars, who went down south/Mariboots spit truth, preserved by mouth/Is it the history of Zaynab’s victory, no doubt


When Musa was King, Timbuktu was Knowledge/The Song of Zaynab birthed the song of Sundiata


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