HELLPHONE

by Chike Pilgrim of the Rapso group, Word, Sound and Power

Dis is my cell phone - You see how it flips?
I got de ring-tone, you see how it whips out?
Dey rips out Congolese coltan
So I can say, "Yeah man!
I'll meet you in minutes"
To my breds minimal metres away.

Dread.
I can't remember what I did without mah cell-phone
Can't remember what I thought or who I was,
But i know-Kia will tell me my motto-
Rola will take me where de hell i need to be
And keep me in touch with reality.

Eric-Sons and daughters singing songs on Sonys-
Smilin, chattin, and phony.
I love to feel de cancerous waves coursing through my skin
And within my brain.
Again and again black diggers in Rwanda call to me spiritually
Languishing over ore to make chips from who's left
But I can't hear their dilemma:
Cause if the literature isn't digital I'm clinically deaf.

Deft Ads on TV
With def jam rappers
Happy to def-y reason for a reasonable sum,
And a blingy phone.
Soakin wet soca stars shining bright for B-mobile-
Goin nowhere.
Bunji sayin "fiiiiiiii-yuh" for TSTT,
While we sayin: "fire for TSTT - Gih we Digicel."
And de hell with who dey kill- once de bill low,
Ah don't care how it go down,
Once I got mah ear-time,
Once I got mah ear-time,
Once I got mah ear-time.

Dis is de hellphone- de phone men went through hell and war for.
Order!
Doh cross de Rwandan border.
Boredom eating away at pretty, plastic faces
Chitter-chattering like obscene monkeys
Backstroking in money.

But honey.
I got my cell-phone - you see how it flips?
It's got de ring-tone, you see how it whips out?
Dey rips out Congolese hearts for coltan chips;
And my golden chips
Dips
In red-blood ketchup
Spattered over chicken flesh,
And a hot butter-bun.

Hotter dan de heat of de East African sun
Eating away at sons and daughters of accursed Ham.

(Pause)

Hello?
I am.
Not at home.
Here.
I am not at home here.
Leave a message.