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Ammunition
Ever notice how the blacker
some of them Black milletante
poets write, the whiter they sound?
I mean, if words could kill, some
of them Black milletante poets
would be badder than Jesse James!
I don’t write no ‘kill the honky’ poetry
because I haven’t yet figured out how
to write a .38 caliber poem!
* * *
* *
Slam Jam Blues
I used to think that poetry had
something to do with brevity,
occasionally laced with levity;
until I checked out the slams
and discovered that it had less
to do with brevity than verbosity;
less to do with levity than obesity.
After losing four times in a row,
I decided that if you can't beat
em, join em; so I decided to
slam and jam and perform
a fat, Afro-centric piece about
Cleopatra, ebony queen of the Nile,
while letting no one peek, that I
know for a fact that Ptolemy,
who began her line, was Greek!
I have no intention of acting like
a drunken sailor and saying that
Cleopatra probably did look like
Elizabeth Taylor!
No, I wouldn't mention miscegenation
nor indicate that her idea of the best
defense of the nation seemed to be
to engage in fornication with two
Roman bi-sexual ex-lovers.
Had a son by one and when the
other was overcome on the battlefield,
escaping because he was nimble, he
then took the blame and, in a moment
of shame, fell on his sword.
Now, ain't that a phallic symbol!
When Cleo heard, without a word,
she took a coffee break, then committed
suicide by lying down with a snake.
No, I'd keep silent about all that and
sing praise about her dusky hues,
as dark as a starless night; even if
it ain't historically right.
I'll rave about how she was Ra's
favorite daughter and exercised
daily by walking on water.
I'm gonna slam, I'm gonna jam
and if I distort history, ain't no
mystery.
I'm gonna lie and ho cause I sure
could use the dough!
* * *
* *
Ripoff
The biggest rip-off in the hood
is the theft of childhood
A ten year old Junky
hustling a stolen television
to pay for his fix, sold to a
fifteen year old pimp with
a string of strung-out whores.
A thirteen year old sister ought
to be playing with dolls instead
of her own baby.
A fifteen year old brother should be
playing where he can smell real
grass instead of smoking grass.
And, the bitch of being called
boy or girl is when you’ve
never really been one!
* * *
* *
Anomaly
I’ve always considered the term
African-American an anomaly
because
I was not born in Africa and
I am not American because
they won’t let me be.
I am not a ‘freedom seeker’,
that is not my thing! You will
never hear me sing,
“Let freedom ring.”
A freedom seeker?
That’s not me.
My name is
Sam Greenlee and
I was born free!
* * *
* *
Immigrants
The chief thing
I’ve noted about
White folks is
that nowadays
they’re talking
about us in code;
otherwise called PC
When they say:
“crime in the streets”
or welfare cheats,
they talking about us.
In Britain
when they say
Immigrants, guess
who they mean?
I mean, they got
Cypriots, Pakistanis
Indians, Spanish an
Italians,
but even if your
Great-great-great
granddaddy was the
dude that turned on
the Bard in a stable an
caused him to write
Othello, you still
an Immigrant if your
skin is other than
fish-belly white.
Quite!
Maybe it takes as
long to become a Black Briton
as it does to grow
them midland s lawns
nobody but birds
walk on.
Now, that would be cool
if they laid the
same standards on
everybody else come
here since the
Norman Invasion
Like, how about that
German lady laying up
in Buckingham Palace?
I mean, how come the Queen
ain’t an Immigrant?
* * *
* *
Black/White Studies
The young brother told me
proudly, that his school was
among the first to have a
Black Studies Department.
I gently told him that a true
Black college would have a
White Studies Department.
* * *
* *
Brotherhood
The mother called
me brother, like he
thought he was Abel
and I was Cain and
couldn’t understand
why I wouldn’t go
for his jive-ass game!
* * *
* *
Blues for Stevie Wonder
I wish I could know
what Stevie know
I wish I could blow
like Stevie blow
I wish I could see
what Stevie see
I wish I could be
what Stevie be; and
the wonder of
Stevie Wonder be is
I can know what
Stevie know and
I can blow what
Stevie blow and
I can see what
Stevie see, cause
Stevie Wonder,
he be me!
* * *
* *
Blues for
Langston Hughes
Brother Langston
I never met you
But I know you
Your Semple sayings
saying things we
need to know.
Brother Langston
I know you
Brother Langston
I owe you, all of us
coming back home
where you never left.
We who never met you
we know you ; and we owe you.
Coming back home,
where you never left! |
