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Ourboy 1996 - Victor Saunders

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Our boy he make ya feel the real thing. When ya touch he hand'll fire. When he breath he breath pure fumes. Our boy let the glass fit the lip. Our boy he a die. He alie in the gutter. He girl her heart flutter, like she want it to stop like Our boy's did. She want to share his death mask.
Our boy's spirit lives on in all of us-back ta the wall on tha streets makes ya never lay down and take defeat. Our boy he will ah rise from the grave, paint his dream and make a grand vista. Born in a ghetto an it's hard to survive. Feel he vibe as he watch he friends die. Bombs and bullets hit the city and..... . Our boy's everywhere lick rocks in the cold, bare rooms. In Our boy's eyes red raw paranoia radiates. Babylon create hell and we live it. Take no prisoners -love ya woman and let the liars know you live. Our boy died in tha battle -lay down his life cause some sucker was disrespected by his articulate prattle.
Our boy's everywhere listen good-we're tha cream of tha crop- intelligent, strong ghetto roach is what we be. And when we look in the mirror we should always be proud of what we see. Our boy die and we feel the pain of his woman in all our hearts.


Everyday, everyday. Tell em what you be seein everyday. He see rape, pigs and hate-Our boy he found out too late. He, the 100% Cracker, stroll and bowl, take the needle and the pipe, make it our own and fall to he knees searchin fa a grain of rock in the gutter. Stand up and be counted, eyes red, raw and dreamin. Never walk in ya door and take a permanent seat in front of the blue lantern. Get outside and mingle with tha suited killers-vampires snarl and serpents slither- Our boy he recognise tha real murderers. Ha ha who ya think ya kid. Black slave and Another- they twisted up historical brothers. Another he be slave but his skin be many shades of white. He thinks slavery is outta sight. Thinks only the black skin suffered the whip: St Kitts, Nevis, St Croix, Antigua, St Thomas- watch the Cracker catch the fever. History if ya know it, it'll show it. Show how the white gutter roach crammed aboard the flotin wooden hell. And when the black, brown and copper skin cry come on baord. They say hey we ain't ya kin -we of tha white skin. We fight our own war. We are one explain some under the baking sur sol. Our slavery make us brothers.
Our boy he see how they dig the grave-watch with knowin eyes as they be betrayed.
Grave digger. Our boy watch him from dark til light and back -digging plots by moonlight.
They loved tha master and when ya look close he be the same shade of white -he be brutal but he be alright-he could almost be my brother.
See the likeness once ya take away the whip.
Our boy he live where almost everyone is dead. He smile for he know, inside his head is a mind alive and on the edge. He sleep the timeless sleep and he walk in the shade down long twistin streets. He a run free now. A smile a cruise onta his face and his grin be permeant and sure. His girl step by his side elegantly.
Back in the ghetto the tide don't turn. A flame burn outta shiny badges and venom paralyses. Our boy he immune to the venom and stroll by quietly assured.
So he's in this club. Our boy sittin at the table watchin the world go by. He never planned it that way-never wanted it to drift so far outta my reach. When the day is cold and grey Our boy's mind sink. He feel confined and ill defined. He stretch his limbs. Out side the vista revolves in his sparkling green eyes. He be frozen by the cold and the dull thud dominatin his thought. He feel as if he has lost all and gained nothin. He is cold from the neck up. Frost bitten frozen. Everyone is allowed to have one bad day in their life-nothin wrong with that- nothin at all.
Help generate hell eternal is the Sunday service cry.
Yea and Our boy watch as the gleamin winners glide by all chrome car and blonde waif. Just incase ya wannna know tha score Our boy don't doubt he ability fa one moment. Don't ever let the end come to close. Tha future is growin near. We are now among you-to no one we compare.
He make Our boy feel tha heat when tha Winner run his mouth loud. The words, dead and empty drift inta Our boy's ear and he a squirm. Tha Winner speak of leaf and bark, of crescent and no crime. He tell ya on Sunday the place be so fine. The air be fresh and the flower be fragrant-outta the corner Our boy see his eye and he smile.
He a see the derelict land and he wonder. He head buzz with Jungliss and electronic rhythms settle he mind into a vision of dark, urban scapes. Satellites circle and data make some crumble-under the electronic strain Our boy don't buckle. And when Our boy scream he does so loud-seen.
Take out tha mother fuckin Cracker. Smash his skull with a hammer. Our boy he a Cracker and he quick of mind and flex. He flash a fist and crunch on bone in a vicious exchange of blows.
Our boy he tire. He eye lids feel heavy and his limbs are cramped with fatigue. He staggers up the road, light reflecting off the glass towers swirls in he eyes. He head spin wild like. He hail a cab, but it cruise past unconcerned. He curse and stagger. Babylon block off street Our boy he fumble fa rocks and stack em high in his gum.
On the gleaming bonnet his stuff is spread : cigarettes, rizla and small change. Smooth, pampered hands inspect tha fag packet. He open he mouth on command and a torch illuminates the glistening palate. Torch clicked off and smashed hard over skull, fists and clubs smash teeth. Our boy spit blood and calcium into gutter. Babylon say good night and shift into a dark alley ta lick tha rocks they pulled off an unlucky punter.
Our boy though he retain his stash high in his gum and start the long walk home again. Blood pour from his head and loose teeth rattle in his jaw. When he reach home he fall pon his pipe and relieve the pain- gone. Hot inta hyper land, paranoia a step quick. Our boy he a rest and he a float. Jungliss lick he mind softly.
Mescaline runs throu the veins. Time catches slow. He hear the JazzStep move and Our boy's mind swirl back to the smooth urban drape. He fly to soarin towers and scan the city lights as they burn. He walk aback onto the street.
Check tha rocks in his gum. He catch sight he girl and he smile broad. She tell him that she love him and he kiss her tender. Our boy he feel tha warmth inside his gal and he close his eyes and thinks only of her. Our boy he come up smilin everytime the sun go down.


Victor Saunders (United Kingdom)


Another short story by Victor Saunders on this site.

Notice © Victor Saunders 1996. All rights reserved

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