Of What Use Are Blacks? Poem by Umar Faruq

The quarter still remains dark, skin still remains black, out of the Negroes.
The elders still wish we could all be the black,
That of our fore elders.

Of what use are blacks?
Of what use are the labours of our fathers,
Of all what our fathers fought for, to remain black is priority.

Out of Negroes, out of real blacks
When those heir to culture are heading back
When those we look forward to are acting blind
Not after we've trade it for a "something" kind.
When we don't care of what our father's fought for
Not excluding the dialet, those things now we don't want.

The quarter of the quarter still remains the same black of our fathers
Of what use are the wish of our fathers?
Those wish, we could just remain black, though acting white in mind.
The everlasting light they fought for, of what use are they?

This isn't a daunt,
For it's just a writing to know what to hunt.
For those that have gone, to turn back
As the real Negroes we are.