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south is north

by nth digri

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1.
sugar cane 02:34
sugar cane, sugar cane, sweet sugar cane sugar cane cane sweet sugar cane as a young boy, I chewed the sugar cane suck pure sugar juice drip from the cane down in central, they grow the sugar cane down in caroni, cut the sugar cane now, sugar cane sweet, stick between your teeth cutlass a chop down stalk of sugar cane sugar cane burn, and sugar cane slash boil and burn in the burning cane trash this pome wrote 400 years ago in the sugar cane plantations of tobgao in demerara, and barbados down in jamaica, santo domingo cut cane cripple man, work in the field woman and child in the killing cane field burn sugar, work slave, cut sugar cane cut down lives full of sorrow and pain sugar muscovado package on the shelf there on the package is a man with no wealth and no land, maracas in he hand jus dance on the package on the planation sway on the package mark 'plantation' black girl, bright clothes, happy in the land there in the picture, on the pack of the sugar with the black man and woman on the plantation there in the supermart, white in the pack is sugar refined in this here land lantic take cane that break back make money, thief money. also redpath on the backs of the blacks who was kidnapped and die in the fields for the white sugar pack stir in the coffee, stir in the eta sugar cane blood money, sugar cane sweet sugar cane, sugar cane, sweet sugar cane sugar cane cane sweet sugar cane
2.
breathe deep 03:03
breathe deep bring forth the word from the depth of the intellect, name the world, and draw breath and breathe the rhythms that interweave and seethe with the force of vitality, word is the seed sown in the song of the griot who hails the deeds eternal, breathe deep and inhale and bring forth the sound to the sign inscribed breathe out the sign pronounced in your mind the word, the seed, the breeze in your chords strums a note in your throat, corresponds with your thoughts and aaahhhh... breathe yourself a drum to the rhythmic oxygenic flex of the lungs as word is to seed, breath is to the wind sound to the sign, let the dance begin name every last member of the tribe sign the memory immortal in the song of the scribe by the vertical gateway of a tree trunk rise and fall, the breath, the chest, the sighs the pattern of voices, of drums multiplied each in its own time, but fully synchronized span ages, song is the soil and the seed of the word takes root, as the name is decreed breathe deep, the invocation, the phrase lips shape in soul intonation cross nation as the chorus calls, innermost core resonates aaahhhh... as the percussion detonates the broken kola, notes of the kora celebrate life like a soul makossa breathe deep aaahhhh.... breathe deep
3.
panthem 03:34
4.
daylight 06:48
Daylight come, and me want go home I’ve been working that graveyard shift, and I can’t hardly stand no more It’s the break of dawn, so looks like I can finally go And I’ve got to stop at the grocery store I got mouths to feed, and supplies are running low But first I got to get to the bank See if I can increase my rank Cuz I need my lights and heat, but they’re about to cut off the hydro and gas Rent’s due, too, and my kids just got a filling in his tooth, so I got to pay for that Plus a whole bunch of bills like water and phone So I was thinking of asking for an emergency loan Either that or get two jobs, maybe get myself cloned! I’m trying to get something that pays more, but every time I get my foot in the door And get an interview, I don’t get hired no matter how well I think I do Or how much experience and qualifications I show So, I finally asked, “What’s going on?” And they told me if I don’t like it, I can just go… back… Home Daylight come, and me want go home Day 24 hours in which to earn a living wage And there’s no lack of manpower, just a concentration of power Loss of laws for equal pay Means lack of women-power, even though they’re doing the hardest labour And all around the globe, many people are enslaved, and some are even slave traders Kids in despair in sweatshops when they should be in the care of educators And with every bite of a banana or purchase of a brand name bandana I am a collaborator A consumer of Big Oil, or Big Sugar From Ghana to Guyana, Delhi to Manilla But I heard a fella say that Massa day done Dat dey have he on de run And that the time soon come For the dream that one day We will let freedom reign But we must have slipped back like reconstruction cuz Many are still living in de facto debt bondage Struggling to get by on single income or EI, or minimum wage Working part time for something with no future That make no use of they skills and brains Tired like a dog Tired of running in the rat race Of always being thirsty when they look around and see there’s water for days Of going two steps backwards for every one forward they take They want chance to move at a more human pace Have a little time to hang out with family and friends Break bread with a familiar face We all want time to be at the place that we… call… Home Daylight come, and me want go home And a bunch of ripe bananas might look and smell and taste real beautiful And I might be entertaining and have a gift that’s lyrical or musical And my style be classic even though I’m not considered classical But underneath it all, under this laid-back exterior There’s a tarantula That when cornered could be deadly And there’s no inoculation for this venom cuz it’s foreign plus tricky More like Anansi than Peter Parker Came out from the crossing even stronger, a born survivor Who could work all night on a drink of red bull or coffee, but no money for rum No fervour, but I’m working up a fever like H-one-en-one No raise in wages, but they keep the prices raising And must I make payments, so I got to lift and tote till morning come And some end up in the streets and they call them bums But they ain’t go beg for crumbs They go collect cans in the alley So come Mr. Tallyman, tally, man, come! Come with your visa schemes to plant hopes and dreams For vegetable pickers and taxi drivers that can only afford kraft dinners Who still recall the taste of planatos or casava pone Who still send barrels home to take care of their own And run through countless calling cards to touch base by telephone And feel that, even though they have staked their claim in this zone Deep down, a part of them just don’t know If they could ever… be… Home Daylight come, and me want go home
5.
They reloaded, klik klak a binary sneak attack digital mirage like holograph hallucinogenic mindtrap But the matrix don't work on Blacks Gets tangled in the naps Ultramagnetic pulsations emanating from helical coils causing sentinels to recoil and malfunction in the rhythmic junction of handclap and fingersnaps Klik Krak They shootin? Aw made you look, but don't mind that Cuz the matrix don't work on Blacks Rip the socket out my cortex cuz my melanocytes swirl mad genetic algorithms into a vortex of proportions similar to afros on panthers, the blackest of cats graceful like breakdancers, with moves to fool an IBM Big Blue in a chess match Checkmate sucker, so take that Do the math, gorgeous like the mind of Morpheus the metamorphoses of pharaohs like Thutmoses into street geniuses that resonate to choruses sung to time-travelling drums like that old boombap true dat, underground treasures like rhyme notebooks buried Zion deep, in the bottom of backpacks rare grooves and hot wax, the energy crackling from a mic, two turntables and a 4 track graphic like a flashback to grandmaster flash with the fury to deflect laser rays and reject implants and alla dat, it's a fact Cuz the matrix don't work on Blacks Suffers tricknological setbacks and short term memory loss Like heads blunted in bonnets knotted with dreads and turban headwraps Circuitry sizzled and seized up broken like brittle teeth of afro picks From the tightly frizzled cornrows and braids of unknown tribes From the favelas of Rio to the ghettos of LA saying fa shizzle While grizzled elders in Soweto teach neo bandeleros how to survive and buss rhymes to the basslines of township jive and tear down posters selling skin cream and Big Macs Sold by Samurai legends in the guise of Tom Cruise or Tom Hanks Staring through infrared night goggles from tanks that visualize the world as green data like DOS screens with flashing blips of collateral casualties that get deleted without the sound of screams, but detailed endlessly on videophone playback Go way back to pioneer wetdreams represented in shifts in so-called reality Historical anomalies, like David Carradine impersonating Bruce Lee, remember that? Artificial constructs like Lawrence of Arabia or Prester John on camelback Get killed softly by the soul sounds of Roberta Flack Or the funk from a Car Wash sound track played on beta max Obsolete and incomplete, say a throwback Don’t you know dat? The matrix don’t work on Blacks Architects cannot comprehend so do not respect The arithmetic that could erect timeless monuments at Ghiza, Kush, or Karnak I say Ye Krick, you say Ye Krak Ye Krik (Ye Krak) YE KRIK! (YE KRAK!) Alright then, let’s take the night back So long as the rich keep getting richer on the poor people’s backs We ain’t paying no fucking income tax Life has become so stressful there’s no way to relax So programmed to go frenetically from residentially designated zones that Are segregated economically to roll like clones off assembly lines into bus lines And park and rides to stand in ten-lane wide highway traffic single file for miles To pile into cubicle pens and stare at screens till the day ends and then Gasoline our way slowly through the grid maze of street arteries till we reach the Capillaries of subdivisions and wolf down pre-packaged nutrition Before plugging into televisions and drifting into nightmares of alien invasions With special effects anticipating matrices planned in small print in appendices Of medical encyclopaedia speaking of green monkeys and leafed through anxiously By hypochondriacs But the Matrix don’t work on Blacks Bush teas are the antitheses of replicating agents dressed like men in Black Of corrupt cardinals that plot inquisition under the cover of red skullcaps Of beasts programmed and licensed to kill at will and flex a nightstick to bus kneecaps Of conditioning mechanisms masquerading as school systems leaving kids intellectually handicapped Of flying dropkicks and shoot-em-up blockbusters flicks sequeled endlessly to fill time and blow minds with car chases and fiery impacts But the matrix don’t work on Blacks Don’t work on Blacks! Don’t work on Blacks!! Don’t it?
6.
initially free-styled, these lyrics so far live only in human memory
7.
inna zone 04:33
Did you ever feel like you were in a zone zoned out, stressed out, feeling all alone Ever feel that you was about to lose control Can’t face the fever that you burning in your soul (soul) solo as in sole, another face in the crowd left out, kinda on your own As if you had to solve (solve) every problem ever posed Now suppose, that every mystery could unfold Or suppose, with no fortune ever foretold You could just freefall into the void and lose control Could you ever in your span of a time (time) Just leave it all behind, the regret in your mind, self-imposed When you moving through these zones, and uh Trying to keep your self composed, and uh Trying keep up with the jones , it’s uh Crazy when you’re on your own It’s a solo mission that you gotta make it on your own But every time you think you’re in a zone You get dragged down, like you bout to drown You start to rise, catch your breath, then you sink once again and Down you go, seems for miles And its been so long that you forgot how to smile And when you look up, it’s like it’s right in front your face And reaching for that carrot’s got you back into the race But You ever let yourself lose control Ever think that you were maybe in a zone Ever think that you could make it on your own Huh…. Yeh As the crowd-out-the-sounds roll Did you ever try to make it on your own Did you wonder on expression of a soul Huh, think that you were in a zone But maybe its’ not always bout finding a solution Posing, and answer to a problem Producing, a plan to respond to a calling (calling) Move the crowd, and alla dem Make you feel like your sum total: occupation But inside: conflagration It’s like you were imploding Did you ever feel like surrendering and free-falling But instead, say you balling Let me tell you something: Did you ever think that you were in a zone Maybe lose everything that you own Give up your own soul, expression of a soul Ever think that you was in a zone When they axe if you got the plans To make the whole damn thing fit together understand Everything that you had to mission on this earth Ever wonder why, the reason for your birth Of your own self… was it the wealth Was it pursuit of happiness, or of health Was it the way that you direct on the move Was it the way that you slowed with the groove Was it the way that you smile inside Was it the way that you smoothed out glide Now, did you ever situate yourself, wonder pon a roll Lose the feeling that you could take control Did you ever if you wonder in a zone In control… in full control Make it on your own, and wasteland is the way you got to roam, and Every problem faced is full blown But say that you is full grown Did you ever wonder why you inna zone Ever wonder if you could lose control Maybe lose face, maybe slow pace maybe even never find a way To give birth to yourself on this earth Is what come first, before your in a hearse You could never of imagine being under tombstone No self left inna crumbling bones As if you, could ever ask for evidence … as if the question as heaven sent Think the soul float around the ether in the sky Did you ever think there might not be a reason why Did there ever have to be (have to be) rationale Did you see your enemy (enemy) on the prowl Did they let past the gate or make you, wait around Did it take you off the beat (off the beat), beaten down But did you ever situate that there wonder was a way Emerge in a surge that you ever breakaway Words that you curved into all the last days That never had any actions ever to reclaim But maybe it don’t have to be about signification Lost in abandon, not a mission … intention drift in imprecision Heart pound (pound) ground down to the rhythm Did you ever think that you could lose control Did you ever wonder if you in a zone Did you ever think that you could lose it all Did you ever wonder if you could jus fall
8.
allagadda do 03:46
too simple to list but then, that's exactly it
9.
going strong 03:17
From the past to the future to the present beyond See we at 50, going strong! If the Taino never cross the Bocas Arima won’t have they cultural focus And if you don’t have the ships of the Spanish Christmas won’t have a parang chorus I am from the blood of Guinea, Ashanti I am drumbeat and tales of Anansi I rise from the graveyard trans-Atlantic Rise like Maroon from the cane I planting If the French never come and settle Would we play mas for Carnival? And if you don’t have Indian arrival No roti or cultivation in Central T&T is where the people mingling Making sugar for the tea that they love in England But after the war, the movement building In man like Butler, James and Williams Why the dream still going strong? Why the beauty of the pan and the kaiso song? How we could laugh even when things going wrong? Why the road so sweet but the journey hard and long?
10.
back 03:51
I have pain in my back I'd say it's a pain in the ass, but it's worse than that Also, it's jus North of that Which might not seem like much on the surface But it's got me bent up, breathless, and nervous Namely, it's a damn pain Not that I want to complain Cuz there are worse kinds of physical curses That can leave you horribly disfigured, disabled, or in a hearse But I can't think relatively speaking In fact, I'm having trouble thinking at all Cuz of this freaking Pain, my spine needs more than jus tweaking I've had morphine, acupuncture Chiropractics practice advanced techniques and Still my lower back keeps on weakening Something about an L4 and L5, lumbar joints and Compression on the SI That's a nerve Makes my posture swerve And sends tingles and burns down to my ankles I've had more doctor's opinions than West Indians eat mangos I'm chained to my pain like a leash Gotta strain every day to make it to work Cuz I need the pay But I don't know how much more of this I can take I need some peace, painkillers won't make it cease I've gotten all these prescriptions in scribblings I can't for the life of me read Pumped with pills so various, I'm starting to fee like Elvis And the pharmacists are staring to suspect me Of peddling my meds on the street They make me show ID and give me grief And after all that, I still can't get nor relief, no release Sometimes I think I'd be better off deceased! So this one's for those of you that got chronic pain The kind that messes with your brain That makes your hope drain, makes you feel like a stain On the good name of humanity Because when something's that wrong with you You wonder, "Why is God so mad at me?" And wonder what people are thinking exactly Because pain is so often accompanied by blame As if you have done something wrong to deserve your calamity Or maybe someone has worked obeah And you forgot what your specialist told you Something about needles and incisions And surgical decisions that Take months to recover from And the horror stories you hear from Everyone who saw that episode of 60 Minutes Where a guy went in for a tonsilectomy And never walked again But, dammit, the pain! The electrical impulses like daggers shooting down Your muscles, arteries, and veins Driving you damn near insane That lame pillar that props up Your pathetic semi-vertical self Tilted like an incarnation of the Tower of Pisa A visible symbol of ill health And you can't get decent treatment unless you got insurance With extended coverage, or you're a superstar athlete But I don't have that kind of clout, nor wealth I'm trying to take one morning a week off for physio But I gotta do it in stealth Cuz I don't want to get laid off Workman's comp won't pay off And I can't even get one lousy day off I gotta be tough and keep a tight grill Play it cool, still But damn, I mean, how much steel can a brother be made of?! And when I stand, it pains And when I sit, it pains And when I kneel, it's OK for a minute And then it pains again And when I lie on my back, it pains On my stomach with ice packs Laid out across my back Is about the only way I can relax I don't even know who I am anymore I am identified by pain That makes me stoop and feel so sore It dominates my day-to-day The person I knew I was before Now does not exist, and looks like he may never exist again I should probably change my name! If I was an actor, I'd be William Hurt If I was a Disney move, it would be the Hunchback of Notre Dame If I was a football star, I would be Troy Aikman And if I was a biblical figure It would be Job, Jonah, or Abraham I feel so tribulated and Godforsaken Like my tailbone is breaking My whole foundations shaking My hope’s taking a beating I can remember happier days But now those moments seem so fleeting I know I get melodramatic But I tell you, I can't stand it I guess who knows it go feel it So I can't really explain or otherwise reveal it But it's very deep-seated So forgive me if I repeat it But I feel like I'm about to snap See, I have pain in my back!
11.
safe to say 05:10
12.
Cold sweat in the zero hour, dreams of power, erased upon waking, no relaxation, muscles twitching and shaking Face the day like any other, dreams of power, money-making and reality overtaking, and Walking to the corner got you looking over your shoulder in the night time That's the wrong time The wrong face in the wrong place, for floorwalkers, in the guise of camera's hidden eyes, and nightstalkers And security crews, dreams of power haunt them too, radioed the news, who they spied out in full view A no-good, down-low, low-down attempts at ascending, to fit the format's demands, no dissenting Locks-out, trimmed nice and neat and natty, paranoia ties a knot in the throat, the rope Dreams of power, application rejected, can't be that dejected, stamped and inspected, And destined for the underworld of judges, wardens, lawyers That's soul-assassination for confused warriors, and soldiers are Put through their paces, the street corner's home to a world of dislocated faces, some guy steps up and speaks of races But can't deal with technology, redundancy, and dreams of power Black steel in the hour And the griots talk of riots and tell the unofficial tales of exonerated cops and how they got off, but it soon come, like Genghis from the steppes of Asia Hitting harder than the combined blows of Ali and Frasier From the glacier, dreams of power, and glass shatter, verdicts that don't matter, contracts ain't worth the paper they're written on As dictators of local notoriety play at celebrity, dreams of power, anxiety Now, who's trying me? Duress and second-guessing, who's denying me, and why And what underlies a cold reply And how to neutralize, change from the inside, clenches up a free and easy stride Like a fist raised halfway, or a latter-day radical verse reworked and shaken in a soft drink ad to spray doubt and dismay, and Dreams of power, star-gazed and gold-crazed dreams of jeeps and mercedes From old to new school days, get-rich-quick games From numbers games to fake brand names, cocaine to Amway, and Dreams of power, night terrors, fear-breeders, hope-cheaters, day dreamers, mind-drifters, time-shifters, the innocence-takers, the non-wakers Dreams of power Dreams of power
13.
strong remix 04:09
despite the mid-age aches and pains when you wake up in the morning your body's way of filing a complaint the result of a previous day’s game that you ran soca warrior hard with pressure like the whole world looking on, instead of the more carefree and seminal play of, say, a maple squad down by the savannah, in your younger days or the brashness of a man name hasely when it felt like you could run for days without the same stress and strain the tendons, muscles and bones all tending to work together without so much need to persuade and train despite the occasional growth pain which you less self-consciously took in stride looking back to when you took your first steps with wide-open dreams flying high like kites in the sky at easter time woven of a will to not just survive, but thrive a will for independence made cocoyea strong so that it won’t break, but could flex openly debating ideas in a square and an unfair state of affairs that get you and your peers vex so you challenge and test like a world class cricket achievement declaring you are not merely content to stand your ground with the best of the best but even best them at their own game mining your own resources and resourcefulness to stake a claim with a riot of carnival colour aflame and extemporaneous ingeniousness with sharp arrangements as you walked tall like a moko jumbie on the world stage matured to play orchestral notes on your pan to international acclaim invading parkways and avenues, too with an electrifying mix, slippery and eclectic like callaloo stew with an all-star swagger, and the abandon of a desperado braving ten-to-one odds with the might of a sparrow in exuberant flight despite rudderless scamps escaping to panama in the dead of night despite the grip of desperation and fright of a riot of flame and anger burnt red in the dead of night these trials by fire: bring water, plenty water! like the flow in your veins says you this to the bone you unrestful, cynical, but loving your home in crisis cuz you wonder if it’s all gone to waste in frustration that simmers like a stchups on your face as you in-digest fast food that make your heart race and clogs veins like traffic-laced streets driven in haste so you work out the pace, try and trim down your waste still you strong, never mind depression or hairline recession still you strong, with the hope of an illinois congressman with a wisdom tempered by a long, circular style indigenous to your own soul, plus simultaneously universal giving birth to yourself like a new world musa, yere wolo so that every day you forge a new way to recreate your arrival and recognize that combined as well as in parallel you can progress with those who at first seemed rivals festive like parang, with an uncommon twang that sings your words to the world a melody that invites hips to twirl with a passion powerful as a pharaoh cacique, raj, khan or sheikh reborn to rebel like belled pierrot brave enough to fight for freedom with sticks versus guns and come out victorious chanting massa day done with a big clear heart pound that resounds proud like a tassa, tamboo bamboo or bass drum urged on with a blast of a conch shell, marshaling all your energies to recharge and come, nuh, come let we move on signaling a brighter sun after the storm brilliant as an ibis or the sea bathed in a bacchanal of scarlet sun rays by the dawn from the past to the future and beyond You see you? At 50, going strong!

about

south is north flips the orientation, with beat-driven dub-poetic instrumentation, heartpound like a hand-drum re-creation, plus a capella to slam home points of contention

when home is, from one angle of vision, fields of sugar cane and tropical paradise. And from another viewpoint, despite divisions, going strong through long days and longer nights

and viewed differently, El Dorado looks less shiny than rusting, cuz the matrix don't work. and it's safe to say that power is a dream, a bait and switch, or maybe worse.

so breathe deep and rebel against mercator inna zone, located south of meroe inna round the globe roam

credits

released August 7, 2013

composed and spoken by the nth digri
with a remix from tariq
and nick knox in the producer seat

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about

nth digri Ottawa, Ontario

nth digri is inspired by his Caribbean-Canadian heritage, hip hop culture, and the African griot tradition. His LP Tales of the North Coast was nominated for a Canadian Urban Music Award. His poem Sugar Cane was selected for the Best of the National Poetry Slam Anthology. He was the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word 2010 Male Poet of Honour. He has performed in Canada, the Caribbean, and the US. ... more

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