Let It Be Known Poem by Christopher James

The priest the poet and the prophet.
Preaching on how to profit poetically.
Let it be weaponry; knives, shotgun shells.
Someone yells militia. Chaos then wraps them like a warm blanket on a cold night. Fighting it but its hard to rise. Sons and daughters left behind in or struggle with progress. Our message is lost. Tossed to and fro but, do not be deceived by every wind of doctrine.

The priest the poet and the prophet.
Preaching on how to profit poetically.
Let it be the turn of a new century.
Same soup just reheated. Defeated no lessons learned while we watch intellectual crosses being burned on the White house lawn. Evening has fallen on the New World Order. Slaughter of the innocent.

The priest the poet and the prophet.
Preaching on how to profit poetically.
Let it be a dream. Martin Luther King spoke of nonviolence while Malcolm said by any means. Their history teaches us that they weren't on the same team. William Lynch taught them to turn us against ourselves placing us in mental and physical jail cells.

The priest the poet and the prophet.
Preaching on how to profit poetically.
Let it be known. Kids with cell phones glued to their hands. Young boys gotta to show off their underpants. While young girls ware clothes too old for their young bodies. Now somebody let it be known.

Let it be know that we have been here before. Let it be known even though our president is black we have yet won the war. Let it be known we need to know where we are from in order to arrive. Let it be known that as long as I am alive our kids are worth all we we have.

Let it be known