We can invent 
Kingdoms of our owngrand purple thrones, those chairs of lust& love we must, in beds of rust
Steel doors lock in prisoner's screams& muzak, 
AM, rocks their dreams
No black men's pride to hoist the beamswhile mocking angels sift what seems
To be a collage of magazine dust
Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust
This is just jail for those who mustget up in the morning & fight for such
Unusable standards
While weeping maidens
Show-off penury & pout
Ravings for a mad staff