Thursday, December 28, 2006
Godfather
The first poem is from my friend, Thom the World Poet sent to me via e-mail today. My response follows his poetry.
At the age of 73
still doing the splits and performing regularly
with a history of domestic abuse
and public entertainments-
"the hardest working man in show business"
smart enough for HIT records
dumb enough to hit his women
That chasm divided all of us
who paid to see him sing
and knew he carried violence within
Perhaps his age was gone long before ours-
when men were patriachs
and women audience
Perhaps soul music encourages
a masochism and misogyny
that fascinates and appalls
enough to jail him
and to release us
from daemons who needed to sing and dance
"get up offa that thing-and dance!"
His mantras remain-but no one
can ever be James Brown again
We have all moved on-he has become
rock hard his story-leaving wife and children
locked out of the marital home
while he goes offf(for the very last time)
to the Apollo
DEC 28 REMEMBERS Thom
(c) 28 December 2006, The Griot Poet
He was probably
more important to us
than Martin, Malcolm or Gandhi
with the same foibles, faux pas as each of us
(magnified to the nth degree because of his celebrity):
drug usage, jail time, striking his white wives...
his music, however reached us
deep within our "minds, wills, imaginations, emotions and intellects"
for a definition I suspect
atheists and theists can agree to be: soul.
He was bold enough
to use his talent
to ruffle the feathers of the establishment:
"say it loud - I'm black and I'm proud"
did more to establish identity
-- for a movement in which Malcolm and Martin
were polar opposites --
displayed by Afros, bell bottoms and dashikis.
at a time when our country fought
an unpopular war
(started by another Texas president)
that one mantra birthed the pursuit of knowledge
about ourselves
almost Occult -- so hidden on sociology shelves
and cobweb periodicals in Mezzanine stacks.
He did not slack
in his civic duty
to visit and perform for presidents
38 to 43: Richard Nixon to George W
and used his celebrity to quiet riots
after King's assassination when he could
have fanned fires with his celebrity.
Now, we have "step-n-fetch"
21st Century minstrel shows with
pants below the waist,
no knowledge or appreciation
that displaying one's male booty
is the preferred state
of one sexually submissive
to cellblock rapists!
He is the originator
of "shake your money maker,"
before LUDACRIS
Yet, self-help advocates forget
"I don't want nobody to give me NOTHING.
"Open up the door -- I'll get it myself!"
Self-help and politics
are to be avoided
in lyrics
that only focus
on sex, violence and ignorance
for a corporate, plantation paycheck!
Hip-hop, like protest music and "Dixie Chicks" is neutered.
That pride has been locked away
on a dank, dusty shelf
not by systemic,
endemic,
xenophobic
racists:
but by
James Brown's
spiritual children
themselves!
Monday, December 18, 2006
R.E.I.T.
© 18 December 2006, Reginald L. Goodwin (The Griot Poet)
The ‘hood IS a government project!
What you don’t get is how the money flows:
First, you need hopelessness…
Started in master-slave Jazz procreation
From Po’ Charlie slicking and pimping
To the modern Step-n-fetch hip hop great grandchildren’s generation
Minstrel shows have to become “status quo”
And relegated to “Bankrupt Entertainment Television” and “U People’s Network”
You can’t have a major show like “Friends,” “Sex in the City” and “Seinfeld” (all praise to Michael Richards’ rant unveiling the hypocrisy!).
They wrote Alfre Woodward crazy on “Desperate Housewives” with a murderous 'normal' son and a crazy one in the basement!
Glorify the Pimp/Hustler/Drug Dealer as the urban entrepreneur one step from Sean Jean and FUBU.
Relegate Rhythm And Poetry – RAP – from revolutionary knowledge to the safe subjects (quoting Cornel West) of “highly sexed, violent, and ignorant.”
Voila: you have a self-hypnotized generation reciting the mantra of their destruction
Sisters “dropping-it-like-its-hot” and brothers jumping in as a “thug-for-life,” “keeping-it-real” with much drama and strife
Repeating the same lie I heard as a child that studying for my future was “acting white.”
This is a better operation than CONINTELPRO or the “Manchurian Candidate!”
Making prison male sexual subjugation – pants below the waist for easy penetration by the dominant, deviant cellblock rapist – a FASHION statement!
Repeal all the laws that put their kind on that side of the railroad track,
Let them attack suburbia and become in debt up to their eyeballs in net worth lack,
In an idolized Cliff and Claire lifestyle
Meanwhile: give your friend the cushy positions for which like “Brownie” they don’t have a horse’s assets qualifications!
But can afford those exclusive neighborhoods the sons and daughters of former slaves are salivating
So they can have the elation of a neighborhood entrance and dues sucking “lawn Gestapo” association
Make laws that subjugate them under the 13th amendment happily:
“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, EXCEPT as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted,
“Shall exist within the United States or any place subject to their jurisdiction…”
And, if their kids get addicted, THEY get therapy!
You need some sorcery to enslave them.
When they beat one – Angel Dust, create another – Crack Cocaine.
Systematically, meticulously so that individually you can’t be blamed for racism!
Exit tests that with single parents barely past 14 can’t get you or themselves ready for
Set you up for a certificate of completion versus a diploma.
So, the only positive thing you can do (besides HIV) is being cannon fodder for the military.
You are standing on “Acres of ‘Blood Diamonds’”.
Cause the industry is NAFTA/CAFTA/outsourced overseas!
The top 1% is cutting you off at your economic knees.
East Winston-Salem, East Austin, South Central and New Orleans, you are allowing modern DeBeers and Trump Tower Developers to steal the one true measure of wealth development!
For my suburban sisters and brothers:
As you live out “Huxtable fantasies,” you leave
An aged population more concerned about ‘the next life’ than owning property
It is a historic loss to our own duress.
What we call “gentrification,” they call “real estate investments!”
The ‘hood IS a government project!
What you don’t get is how the money flows:
First, you need hopelessness…
Started in master-slave Jazz procreation
From Po’ Charlie slicking and pimping
To the modern Step-n-fetch hip hop great grandchildren’s generation
Minstrel shows have to become “status quo”
And relegated to “Bankrupt Entertainment Television” and “U People’s Network”
You can’t have a major show like “Friends,” “Sex in the City” and “Seinfeld” (all praise to Michael Richards’ rant unveiling the hypocrisy!).
They wrote Alfre Woodward crazy on “Desperate Housewives” with a murderous 'normal' son and a crazy one in the basement!
Glorify the Pimp/Hustler/Drug Dealer as the urban entrepreneur one step from Sean Jean and FUBU.
Relegate Rhythm And Poetry – RAP – from revolutionary knowledge to the safe subjects (quoting Cornel West) of “highly sexed, violent, and ignorant.”
Voila: you have a self-hypnotized generation reciting the mantra of their destruction
Sisters “dropping-it-like-its-hot” and brothers jumping in as a “thug-for-life,” “keeping-it-real” with much drama and strife
Repeating the same lie I heard as a child that studying for my future was “acting white.”
This is a better operation than CONINTELPRO or the “Manchurian Candidate!”
Making prison male sexual subjugation – pants below the waist for easy penetration by the dominant, deviant cellblock rapist – a FASHION statement!
Repeal all the laws that put their kind on that side of the railroad track,
Let them attack suburbia and become in debt up to their eyeballs in net worth lack,
In an idolized Cliff and Claire lifestyle
Meanwhile: give your friend the cushy positions for which like “Brownie” they don’t have a horse’s assets qualifications!
But can afford those exclusive neighborhoods the sons and daughters of former slaves are salivating
So they can have the elation of a neighborhood entrance and dues sucking “lawn Gestapo” association
Make laws that subjugate them under the 13th amendment happily:
“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, EXCEPT as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted,
“Shall exist within the United States or any place subject to their jurisdiction…”
And, if their kids get addicted, THEY get therapy!
You need some sorcery to enslave them.
When they beat one – Angel Dust, create another – Crack Cocaine.
Systematically, meticulously so that individually you can’t be blamed for racism!
Exit tests that with single parents barely past 14 can’t get you or themselves ready for
Set you up for a certificate of completion versus a diploma.
So, the only positive thing you can do (besides HIV) is being cannon fodder for the military.
You are standing on “Acres of ‘Blood Diamonds’”.
Cause the industry is NAFTA/CAFTA/outsourced overseas!
The top 1% is cutting you off at your economic knees.
East Winston-Salem, East Austin, South Central and New Orleans, you are allowing modern DeBeers and Trump Tower Developers to steal the one true measure of wealth development!
For my suburban sisters and brothers:
As you live out “Huxtable fantasies,” you leave
An aged population more concerned about ‘the next life’ than owning property
It is a historic loss to our own duress.
What we call “gentrification,” they call “real estate investments!”
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Open Letter to Kramer
© 27 November 2006, The Griot Poet
“Cosmo Kramer” has left the building!
As Michael Richards launches a chilling tirade
Of the shade I'd overheard and seen at a Cross lit Klan meeting
During a JROTC overnight in NC we cadets happened upon amongst the trees…
You used the n-word a symbolic SEVEN times,
Added injury to insult describing a violent, sodomy crime,
“Stick a fork up” my rear
50 times for 50 years ago when WE were the de facto slave labor of the “land of the free; home of the brave”: building houses; picking fruit and cotton; working for pennies on the dollar (without health benefits)!
Our prophet, Marvin said:
“Makes me WANNA holler, throw up both my hands!”
As real soldiers like Rosa Parks, Corretta Scott and Martin Luther King Junior, Medger Evers, Malcolm X and others fought & DIED for us to “rock the vote” and get up
From the back of the bus for our
“Inalienable right” to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”: our brothers PAID for this abuse!
Your behavior has no reasonable excuse.
Your “penis envy” of Jerry Seinfeld evident, every star used the president of the hit show to boost their creds… not you!
I’ll be honest with you: I watched maybe three episodes of your hit show the whole TEN YEARS of “Much Ado About Nothing” to quote Shakespeare,
Since it is hard for me to digest “whites only” characters and NO black regulars on a show based in New York City (include “Friends” and “Sex & the City” in this offense!).
You looked as if you'd hit new heights after smoking a large CRACK pipe before you hit the stage!
I am enraged for my brothers that you made cushy public apologies to David Letterman, Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson: for one,
We haven't watched much late night since they canned Arsenio Hall!
And, your little, well-acted pouting to the presidents of the National Action Network & Rainbow PUSH do you NO good at all!
You want redemption? You want a career?
Lean your ear to this advice and hold it dear:
It is not repentance
Until you humbly face those you've offended,
And offer DOUBLE restitution
Asked for in recompense.
Let me repeat it:
It is not repentance
Until you humbly face those you've offended,
And offer DOUBLE restitution
Asked for in recompense.
FACE the brothers you crudely fronted and be a MAN!
Until you do this,
You will not satisfy our
Sense of justice,
Else your career – such as it was – will be over, “past prologue”* and SPENT!
* “What is past is prologue.” William Shakespeare
“Cosmo Kramer” has left the building!
As Michael Richards launches a chilling tirade
Of the shade I'd overheard and seen at a Cross lit Klan meeting
During a JROTC overnight in NC we cadets happened upon amongst the trees…
You used the n-word a symbolic SEVEN times,
Added injury to insult describing a violent, sodomy crime,
“Stick a fork up” my rear
50 times for 50 years ago when WE were the de facto slave labor of the “land of the free; home of the brave”: building houses; picking fruit and cotton; working for pennies on the dollar (without health benefits)!
Our prophet, Marvin said:
“Makes me WANNA holler, throw up both my hands!”
As real soldiers like Rosa Parks, Corretta Scott and Martin Luther King Junior, Medger Evers, Malcolm X and others fought & DIED for us to “rock the vote” and get up
From the back of the bus for our
“Inalienable right” to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”: our brothers PAID for this abuse!
Your behavior has no reasonable excuse.
Your “penis envy” of Jerry Seinfeld evident, every star used the president of the hit show to boost their creds… not you!
I’ll be honest with you: I watched maybe three episodes of your hit show the whole TEN YEARS of “Much Ado About Nothing” to quote Shakespeare,
Since it is hard for me to digest “whites only” characters and NO black regulars on a show based in New York City (include “Friends” and “Sex & the City” in this offense!).
You looked as if you'd hit new heights after smoking a large CRACK pipe before you hit the stage!
I am enraged for my brothers that you made cushy public apologies to David Letterman, Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson: for one,
We haven't watched much late night since they canned Arsenio Hall!
And, your little, well-acted pouting to the presidents of the National Action Network & Rainbow PUSH do you NO good at all!
You want redemption? You want a career?
Lean your ear to this advice and hold it dear:
It is not repentance
Until you humbly face those you've offended,
And offer DOUBLE restitution
Asked for in recompense.
Let me repeat it:
It is not repentance
Until you humbly face those you've offended,
And offer DOUBLE restitution
Asked for in recompense.
FACE the brothers you crudely fronted and be a MAN!
Until you do this,
You will not satisfy our
Sense of justice,
Else your career – such as it was – will be over, “past prologue”* and SPENT!
* “What is past is prologue.” William Shakespeare
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
50 Pesos a Day
© 20 October 2006, The Griot Poet
They are the sons and daughters of the Aztecs,
And they went from Vicente Fox-in-the-henhouse to another louse named Calderon
Like: going back-and-forth from John Gotti to Al Capone means anything?
They work for 50 pesos a day.
At the current exchange rate, that's less than 5 bucks, or a little less than $100 American dollars a month.
Which really sucks when the poor – our servants –hollered at the ballet box, outnumbering the elite more than 10-to-1 clamoring for change waiting in the hot Mexican sun.
They got more of the same: different person, same party and no change to their small change of 50 pesos a day.
Their compensation: $100 American bucks, which effectively doubles their meager wages as bellhops, waiters and pages for hustling after tips, which coincides with the going rate for UPSCALE lower class living arrangements!
The same game is played in the states, as the stakes are NAFTA, CAFTA & FREE TRADE for the Americas: the political elite only change horses midstream to make you and I think we have a choice in this horserace.
As our high-tech jobs fly overseas at breakneck pace, the fastest growing employment is in the service industries: Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Target, grocery and department stores, waiters, maids and butlers.
Things that make you go: "hm!"
The only recompense is political independence from a two-party system more skilled in playing our political heartstrings than solving real problems beyond the Washington beltway!
The only recompense is political independence before we have a country we all deplore:
Waking up to a "Brave New World" of Code Orange threats and getting by on
50 pesos a day!
They are the sons and daughters of the Aztecs,
And they went from Vicente Fox-in-the-henhouse to another louse named Calderon
Like: going back-and-forth from John Gotti to Al Capone means anything?
They work for 50 pesos a day.
At the current exchange rate, that's less than 5 bucks, or a little less than $100 American dollars a month.
Which really sucks when the poor – our servants –hollered at the ballet box, outnumbering the elite more than 10-to-1 clamoring for change waiting in the hot Mexican sun.
They got more of the same: different person, same party and no change to their small change of 50 pesos a day.
Their compensation: $100 American bucks, which effectively doubles their meager wages as bellhops, waiters and pages for hustling after tips, which coincides with the going rate for UPSCALE lower class living arrangements!
The same game is played in the states, as the stakes are NAFTA, CAFTA & FREE TRADE for the Americas: the political elite only change horses midstream to make you and I think we have a choice in this horserace.
As our high-tech jobs fly overseas at breakneck pace, the fastest growing employment is in the service industries: Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Target, grocery and department stores, waiters, maids and butlers.
Things that make you go: "hm!"
The only recompense is political independence from a two-party system more skilled in playing our political heartstrings than solving real problems beyond the Washington beltway!
The only recompense is political independence before we have a country we all deplore:
Waking up to a "Brave New World" of Code Orange threats and getting by on
50 pesos a day!
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Blogging for Change
(c) 6 November 2006 (on the eve of the election)
"This election is too close to call...
"This election is too close NOT to call!"
We've stalled the constitution,
Habeas Corpus needs a reunion
With laws of governance
That at a glance
Were thrown out on a whim of chance!
Don't be a "football fan" electorate,
Whether you have a Casey Sheehan,
2,800 + of men and women died for us
(655,000 Iraqi cousins of the human family as well)
For pundits who during Vietnam had
"Other priorities" and protected Texas
Skies scoring in the LOWEST percentile
Of pilot candidates, and now advises us
As a previous member of the Texas
"Champaigne Unit"
With NO previous combat experience
"To stay the course!"
I am blogging for change,
On the eve of this election game
I have voted for the opposition
Two weeks before this rendition
Of the democratic experiment:
"A government of laws; not men."
I am NOT voting for the Democrats
As the panacea to this morass:
It was 1994 when this mafioso
Staged the "Contract ON America"
From the Democrat's previous sins.
I'm sure K street is ready to switch it's focus again!
And Tom Delay's mission
To re-RE-district
After the 2000 Census
To ensure a permanent, Republican
Majority in Texas
And the US.
I am blogging for change.
For people who got shot, hosed, beaten
For me NOT to vote,
Would be a sin...
"Fool me once, shame on... shame on... shame on...
"You can't get fooled again!"
Sunday, July 30, 2006
The Exception
© 30 July 2006, The Griot Poet
“Section 1. Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”
And that is section one of the 13th Amendment!
And: the zenith of your life’s achievement is to be “jumped in” to a gang of criminality, joining illegal fraternities’ labeled ostensibly:
- Crips,
- Bloods,
- Latin Kings,
- Asian Tongs,
- Black Gansta Disciples,
- MS13…
And: you THINK because PHAT Farm ®, FUBU ® and JC Penny ® made your fashion an American icon, you have position, power and importance?
Brother, PLEASE!
Never
Ignorant
Getting
Goals
Accomplished
Is a clever acrostic metaphor of a racial epithet popularized by TUPAC (whose heart by the way is still stopped).
Biggie followed him, both of them dying at the statistical life block of 25 after actuaries lower your insurance and you start accumulating wealth, position, political power and importance.
Dead presidents reach beyond the grave, but dead men can’t father boys that become thug knaves: perpetuating generational curses in myriad bloodlines mass-producing docile knaves:
- Crips,
- Bloods,
- Latin Kings,
- Asian Tongs,
- Black Gansta Disciples,
- MS13…
“Keeping it real”: with the new titles for corporate American Fascist slaves!
“Section 1. Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”
And that is section one of the 13th Amendment!
And: the zenith of your life’s achievement is to be “jumped in” to a gang of criminality, joining illegal fraternities’ labeled ostensibly:
- Crips,
- Bloods,
- Latin Kings,
- Asian Tongs,
- Black Gansta Disciples,
- MS13…
And: you THINK because PHAT Farm ®, FUBU ® and JC Penny ® made your fashion an American icon, you have position, power and importance?
Brother, PLEASE!
Never
Ignorant
Getting
Goals
Accomplished
Is a clever acrostic metaphor of a racial epithet popularized by TUPAC (whose heart by the way is still stopped).
Biggie followed him, both of them dying at the statistical life block of 25 after actuaries lower your insurance and you start accumulating wealth, position, political power and importance.
Dead presidents reach beyond the grave, but dead men can’t father boys that become thug knaves: perpetuating generational curses in myriad bloodlines mass-producing docile knaves:
- Crips,
- Bloods,
- Latin Kings,
- Asian Tongs,
- Black Gansta Disciples,
- MS13…
“Keeping it real”: with the new titles for corporate American Fascist slaves!
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Tribute to Dr. Ronald E. McNair (circa 1986)
Thanks to Dr. Sandin (Ron and my General Physics professor at North Carolina A & T State University), this was found among his many papers in semi-retirement. The letter and poem are 20.5 years old. I record this to not misplace it again...
*****
My Dear Friends,
Since my commission, I have traveled many miles, seen many places. I have laughed, loved, enjoying life as an alumnus. My casual wear-about-town has slowly developed into my Aggie class ring, any Aggie Shirt, and my Aggie cap. I also spend my Aggie time trying to explain to the average Texan that I am not from Texas A & M!
I wish that these times were not so sad. As you cried, I cried too. My sadness was magnified as I thought of you, all of you. When the tears no longer flowed, I realized this was not the way to remember our friend.
I’ll remember my first glimpse of Ron McNair as not in person. I was fourteen, reading an A & T alumni newspaper. Trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life. Reading the article inspired me. The fall of 1980 found me on the campus of my hero: quiet, bright, undisciplined. The path I had chosen was wrought with traps of failure. And I did fail, but I would not quit, because he would not.
I’ll remember the first time I met him. He was hailed our conquering hero, our knight in shining armor. I was involved in the festivities until days end. By this time, Ron had graduated from my idol to my friend.
I had hoped to see him again in Houston, Texas since I lived right next door in Austin. Now, that hope is gone but, I will not despair. He would not want us to.
I will remember him as a winner in the true sense of the word. His presence was dazzling, yet his attitude humble. He remembered the road many of us are still traveling.
If we can learn anything from this tragedy, let us learn from the example of his life. In all his travels, he knew of his obligation to help others. He knew his light must shine “from Dare to Cherokee” and the four corners of the earth. He never forgot about his second home, A & T, and never let any opportunity slip by to tell someone what a special place it was. This home is Ron McNair’s heart. If this is so, he will live forever.
My love to you all,
An Epitaph for my Hero
© 1986, Reginald L. Goodwin
He would come from humble beginnings,
A young brother with great dreams,
And a strong will determining
His own tomorrow; It seems
A&T has produced leaders, some
Giants in their fields,
With humble knowledge of whence they’d come,
Always befriending others in need,
McNair too on the ‘Aggie Struggle’
In pursuit of his degree,
Then onward to dare, challenge and trouble
MIT for his PhD
He was our hero, this Aggie gladiator
Yet: on this note we all must think,
Each person has a pre-scored
Date with destiny we must keep.
As phoenix met its fiery end,
So too will he rise again,
And on that day of happiness we will then
Meet and greet a long lost friend.
Think not of our great loss,
But of history’s gain.
Let us remember him by paying the costs
He did to rise to fame.
An Aggie is best remembered
Not just in the tears we shed,
But in emulation and earnest meditation
Of the inspiring life he led.
We can only pray our loss
Is to God’s saving grace,
And know that Ron still thinks of us
(As we him), out there… exploring space.
Monday, June 12, 2006
At What Cost?
© 12 June 2006, The Griot Poet
When we integrated: our high schools became middle schools; our middle schools elementary, our colleges secondary.
The teachers who cared for us as 2nd mothers and fathers systematically retired, placed on medical or disciplinary leave or fired!
Suburban districts of white flight could not find suitable teacher candidates of color to hire (therefore, fewer black principals in their municipality).
“Soccer moms”: soccer, a slang term from England for “football association.” Women preening like peacocks with children in parks, a hybrid between the regal bird, Jewish American Princesses and WASPs as their men in the height of nepotism gave themselves the top salaries, rapid promotions, spiffs, bonuses, accelerators and stock options while they kicked us and our collective assets to the curb!
The WASPs further stung us numb as we lapsed into the somnambulism of sitcom unrealism: Cliff and Claire Huxtable set us up to have under performing children indulged by the wealth of overextended lifestyles and paycheck-to-paycheck slavery.
Someone has to stay home with the babies before pharmaceutical companies addict them to reconstituted forms of cocaine, lowered life goals, self-esteem and expectations.
When we integrated: we set up idols of wood, stone and cul-de-sacs in “master”-planned communities,
- In “master”-planned communities,
- In “MASTER”-planned communities,
Achieving the right to get in debt, get on the high speed Internet and shop in the same malls, our creature comforts stalled our spiritual progress.
Our secular god, knowledge was replaced by “Pimp My Ride ©” and “bling - bling.” Asians and Anglos study hours to capture global industries versus the 1 in 16,000 chance of landing a spot as a pro athlete!
Our churches, synagogues and mosques became overpopulated with women holding out hope to find a leader-protector-lover: only to find the conversation after preaching no different than the previous night’s venture at the club/meat market.
So, our women began “shaking their assets” in gangster lean hip hop video fantasies, female capitalists passed around from bed-to-bed by masters of staccato poetry: just like their mothers had been previously in choir robes by revered pastors.
No roots to Public Enemy or KRS-1, the corporate formula for hip POP from Cornel West = highly sexed, violent and ignorant.
A successful CONINTELPRO operation: the black messiahs Medgar, Malcolm and Martin assassinated,
When we integrated: we went from strong aromatic roast to watered-down coffee, highly creamed, over-sugared to be the “acceptable taste.”
Form without substance; talent at a waste.
Not realizing in our buffoonery
We are weak!
When we integrated: our high schools became middle schools; our middle schools elementary, our colleges secondary.
The teachers who cared for us as 2nd mothers and fathers systematically retired, placed on medical or disciplinary leave or fired!
Suburban districts of white flight could not find suitable teacher candidates of color to hire (therefore, fewer black principals in their municipality).
“Soccer moms”: soccer, a slang term from England for “football association.” Women preening like peacocks with children in parks, a hybrid between the regal bird, Jewish American Princesses and WASPs as their men in the height of nepotism gave themselves the top salaries, rapid promotions, spiffs, bonuses, accelerators and stock options while they kicked us and our collective assets to the curb!
The WASPs further stung us numb as we lapsed into the somnambulism of sitcom unrealism: Cliff and Claire Huxtable set us up to have under performing children indulged by the wealth of overextended lifestyles and paycheck-to-paycheck slavery.
Someone has to stay home with the babies before pharmaceutical companies addict them to reconstituted forms of cocaine, lowered life goals, self-esteem and expectations.
When we integrated: we set up idols of wood, stone and cul-de-sacs in “master”-planned communities,
- In “master”-planned communities,
- In “MASTER”-planned communities,
Achieving the right to get in debt, get on the high speed Internet and shop in the same malls, our creature comforts stalled our spiritual progress.
Our secular god, knowledge was replaced by “Pimp My Ride ©” and “bling - bling.” Asians and Anglos study hours to capture global industries versus the 1 in 16,000 chance of landing a spot as a pro athlete!
Our churches, synagogues and mosques became overpopulated with women holding out hope to find a leader-protector-lover: only to find the conversation after preaching no different than the previous night’s venture at the club/meat market.
So, our women began “shaking their assets” in gangster lean hip hop video fantasies, female capitalists passed around from bed-to-bed by masters of staccato poetry: just like their mothers had been previously in choir robes by revered pastors.
No roots to Public Enemy or KRS-1, the corporate formula for hip POP from Cornel West = highly sexed, violent and ignorant.
A successful CONINTELPRO operation: the black messiahs Medgar, Malcolm and Martin assassinated,
When we integrated: we went from strong aromatic roast to watered-down coffee, highly creamed, over-sugared to be the “acceptable taste.”
Form without substance; talent at a waste.
Not realizing in our buffoonery
We are weak!
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Bodhisattva
© 26 May 2006, The Griot Poet
A true martial art
explores the limitations
of one's ignorance.
A true martial art
explores the limitations
of one's ignorance.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
The Invasion of Forrest Gump
© 21 April 2006, The Griot Poet
"Today there is no longer a choice between violence and nonviolence. It is either nonviolence or nonexistence." Martin Luther King, Jr.
We have been invaded by “Looney Tunes,”
The freaking CRAZIES have entered the room
President Duck Dodgers-in-chief
Has a decades missed date with reality to keep.
He “hears the voices”… but of who?
It’s from the “cuckoo’s nest” where that comment flew!
One more Long Island Iced Tea than he should have bothered.
He says he answers to a higher Father,
I have no qualms or bother with his religious beliefs
Except it shouldn’t be the basis for global policy and domestic relief
(Especially in New Orleans!)
His VEEP, Sir Elmer Fuddle the first did one more draft deferment than needed.
Had he heeded the call of his country,
His quail/fish-in-a-barrel shooting skills might-have-been a little less shabby!
He is a pacemaker glitch from the “big one!”
Slurring his speech like he’s in the first throws of a stroke,
Yet, he’s the privileged son we have in a secret bunker
To keep order in case Duck Dodgers goes AWOL again?
Dodger’s approval rating is one degree just above freezing,
Congress is THREE below that
Elmer’s TWELVE below them… Shh! Be very, very quiet!
In this morass, we’re hunting common sense.
It is to the chagrin of sense
That we are in this present mess
Fed by co-religionist rapture theories
Listen: no parent gives absolutes to any punishment,
So why do you box God into the role of warrior-tormenter for the last judgment?
And when did He attach a nuke to his promise to come back?
Refresher: During the Cold War, M.A.D. stood for Mutually Assured Destruction,
And Carl Sagan computerized and prophesied a “nuclear winter.”
Since Yeshua Himself said “no man knows the time or the hour”
How do you have the power to see that tactical nukes are the key to our salvation?
The only oblation that makes sense
Is that you are “the man of sin”; “the son of perdition” the “6-6-6”
Along with your 3-6 Mafia cabinet of Vulcan fools…
Fixing elections as a matter of rule.
Decrying gay marriage, Terry Shiavo, and “family values”
While families suffer from your brazen rule.
Your brain Karl Rove is a college flunkout,
Yet, he advises you on how to appeal to baser views
On hot-button issues designed to motivate the electorate to move
On things that will not prosperity net them,
Yet in the end, pay off your rich friends.
The one prophesy I’ll leave you with for what it’s worth:
“The meek, not the rich, will inherit the earth!”
"Today there is no longer a choice between violence and nonviolence. It is either nonviolence or nonexistence." Martin Luther King, Jr.
We have been invaded by “Looney Tunes,”
The freaking CRAZIES have entered the room
President Duck Dodgers-in-chief
Has a decades missed date with reality to keep.
He “hears the voices”… but of who?
It’s from the “cuckoo’s nest” where that comment flew!
One more Long Island Iced Tea than he should have bothered.
He says he answers to a higher Father,
I have no qualms or bother with his religious beliefs
Except it shouldn’t be the basis for global policy and domestic relief
(Especially in New Orleans!)
His VEEP, Sir Elmer Fuddle the first did one more draft deferment than needed.
Had he heeded the call of his country,
His quail/fish-in-a-barrel shooting skills might-have-been a little less shabby!
He is a pacemaker glitch from the “big one!”
Slurring his speech like he’s in the first throws of a stroke,
Yet, he’s the privileged son we have in a secret bunker
To keep order in case Duck Dodgers goes AWOL again?
Dodger’s approval rating is one degree just above freezing,
Congress is THREE below that
Elmer’s TWELVE below them… Shh! Be very, very quiet!
In this morass, we’re hunting common sense.
It is to the chagrin of sense
That we are in this present mess
Fed by co-religionist rapture theories
Listen: no parent gives absolutes to any punishment,
So why do you box God into the role of warrior-tormenter for the last judgment?
And when did He attach a nuke to his promise to come back?
Refresher: During the Cold War, M.A.D. stood for Mutually Assured Destruction,
And Carl Sagan computerized and prophesied a “nuclear winter.”
Since Yeshua Himself said “no man knows the time or the hour”
How do you have the power to see that tactical nukes are the key to our salvation?
The only oblation that makes sense
Is that you are “the man of sin”; “the son of perdition” the “6-6-6”
Along with your 3-6 Mafia cabinet of Vulcan fools…
Fixing elections as a matter of rule.
Decrying gay marriage, Terry Shiavo, and “family values”
While families suffer from your brazen rule.
Your brain Karl Rove is a college flunkout,
Yet, he advises you on how to appeal to baser views
On hot-button issues designed to motivate the electorate to move
On things that will not prosperity net them,
Yet in the end, pay off your rich friends.
The one prophesy I’ll leave you with for what it’s worth:
“The meek, not the rich, will inherit the earth!”
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
A Prayer For Australia
© 20 March 2006, The Griot Poet
Sent to Thom the World Poet (an Aussie Poet and Friend in Austin, Texas)
My prayers to your countrymen…
The chagrin of “ignorance is strength”
Is the proper Orwellian quote,
Not the “bliss” misquoted and we note that
Global warming like evolution is not a "theory"
That can be ignored due to it not playing well politically
With “the base,”
Which is the literal translation of the phrase “Al-Qaeda."
Shall we then devolve to Neanderthals
For the prediction that Einstein made
(though not one for prophecy)
Was chilling in any age:
"I do not know what weapons they'll use in the Third World War.
"But it is assured in the fourth; they will be sticks and stones."
Shall we deplore factual gathering as moribund
as tsunamis, earthquakes and cyclones wreck biblical havoc
On Asia, New Orleans and now Australia?
On shores we could protect
were we not connected to political bloodsuckers
more intent on winning than dominion; on domination than governing?
Sent to Thom the World Poet (an Aussie Poet and Friend in Austin, Texas)
My prayers to your countrymen…
The chagrin of “ignorance is strength”
Is the proper Orwellian quote,
Not the “bliss” misquoted and we note that
Global warming like evolution is not a "theory"
That can be ignored due to it not playing well politically
With “the base,”
Which is the literal translation of the phrase “Al-Qaeda."
Shall we then devolve to Neanderthals
For the prediction that Einstein made
(though not one for prophecy)
Was chilling in any age:
"I do not know what weapons they'll use in the Third World War.
"But it is assured in the fourth; they will be sticks and stones."
Shall we deplore factual gathering as moribund
as tsunamis, earthquakes and cyclones wreck biblical havoc
On Asia, New Orleans and now Australia?
On shores we could protect
were we not connected to political bloodsuckers
more intent on winning than dominion; on domination than governing?
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
On The Cusp of Things...
© 7 March 2006, The Griot Poet
I am forty-three.
Admittedly, I am supposed to be at the apogee of my career.
I once was.
Because of the “good” of the global economy,
My job was downsized, outsourced without apology
(Or lubricant) for the entrance of my cubicle
And the exit of my own self assurance
That I could provide for my family.
I have not the perspective that politicians see on official visits across the sea to India that this is a good thing! This is not Martin’s “let freedom ring.”
I wrote a blog called “Outsourced American”
As spiritual breadcrumbs
I refuse to be dumb
About the pain I’ve gone through
The changes I’ve endured
It’s a wonder my family is together, whole...
If I’d taken a poll six months ago
I wouldn’t make a fair bet that
I’d yet be typing these words…
Corpses don’t do diction well.
Though these thoughts are dark,
No one contemplates
Heaven or hell
When the very meaning of one’s existence
Falls into question...
I have had
Crash learning sessions
With ecliptics and reflector telescopes
Labs and homework
Working with people almost half my age
At the stage of their life where things are just beginning...
I remember well!
I remember when my time had ended
At my undergraduate matriculation
Volunteered service to the Air Force
That started the first seeds of strife...
Forced to leave for a lie, I had to recreate another life
As a semiconductor process engineer
For reference, see the first stanza
Of this piece, first line beginning: “I am forty-three.”
A midterm approaches
As I appeal to the UNKNOWN God
Of Paul (and me)
That created all
To recreate in me a mind that recalls
Everything on Black Holes and Binary Stars
Because it is through favor that I am even here at all…
Failure is not an option
Because I have fewer decades ahead of me
And more behind
The only motive that spurs:
Cadet Colonel Wall of Army JROTC stating to me
“Your kind will NEVER rise to this rank.”
I’ve had this shank stabbed in my chest before
And when I was younger I endured
And fought hard
To let the enemy know I deplore his tactics
That he’s a PUNK;
A chump!
And just like you didn’t stop me then
You WON’T stop me now!
However: I am forty-three.
I am further from my birth and closer to forever.
Even though I tire of the assault: face bloody, wind sucking, knees buckling; boxed ears ring; I will not be defeated.
I feel... I am on the cusp of things!
I am forty-three.
Admittedly, I am supposed to be at the apogee of my career.
I once was.
Because of the “good” of the global economy,
My job was downsized, outsourced without apology
(Or lubricant) for the entrance of my cubicle
And the exit of my own self assurance
That I could provide for my family.
I have not the perspective that politicians see on official visits across the sea to India that this is a good thing! This is not Martin’s “let freedom ring.”
I wrote a blog called “Outsourced American”
As spiritual breadcrumbs
I refuse to be dumb
About the pain I’ve gone through
The changes I’ve endured
It’s a wonder my family is together, whole...
If I’d taken a poll six months ago
I wouldn’t make a fair bet that
I’d yet be typing these words…
Corpses don’t do diction well.
Though these thoughts are dark,
No one contemplates
Heaven or hell
When the very meaning of one’s existence
Falls into question...
I have had
Crash learning sessions
With ecliptics and reflector telescopes
Labs and homework
Working with people almost half my age
At the stage of their life where things are just beginning...
I remember well!
I remember when my time had ended
At my undergraduate matriculation
Volunteered service to the Air Force
That started the first seeds of strife...
Forced to leave for a lie, I had to recreate another life
As a semiconductor process engineer
For reference, see the first stanza
Of this piece, first line beginning: “I am forty-three.”
A midterm approaches
As I appeal to the UNKNOWN God
Of Paul (and me)
That created all
To recreate in me a mind that recalls
Everything on Black Holes and Binary Stars
Because it is through favor that I am even here at all…
Failure is not an option
Because I have fewer decades ahead of me
And more behind
The only motive that spurs:
Cadet Colonel Wall of Army JROTC stating to me
“Your kind will NEVER rise to this rank.”
I’ve had this shank stabbed in my chest before
And when I was younger I endured
And fought hard
To let the enemy know I deplore his tactics
That he’s a PUNK;
A chump!
And just like you didn’t stop me then
You WON’T stop me now!
However: I am forty-three.
I am further from my birth and closer to forever.
Even though I tire of the assault: face bloody, wind sucking, knees buckling; boxed ears ring; I will not be defeated.
I feel... I am on the cusp of things!
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Sovereignty
© 27 February 2006, The Griot Poet
To answer without answering:
The definition of the word is… itself.
George Orwell would be so proud!
Though Webster seems locked away
On his dimwitted, Ivy League shelf
I can hear the faint sound of snickers
From the once moribund press corps
On his ironic struggle
To describe
What Native American tribes
DO NOT have
Because of his elite ancestry and their
Robber Barron thievery many scores before:
“Sovereignty: Supreme power, especially
Over a body politic;
“Freedom from external control: the right to self-govern: autonomy!”
To answer without answering:
The definition of the word is… itself.
George Orwell would be so proud!
Though Webster seems locked away
On his dimwitted, Ivy League shelf
I can hear the faint sound of snickers
From the once moribund press corps
On his ironic struggle
To describe
What Native American tribes
DO NOT have
Because of his elite ancestry and their
Robber Barron thievery many scores before:
“Sovereignty: Supreme power, especially
Over a body politic;
“Freedom from external control: the right to self-govern: autonomy!”
Sunday, February 12, 2006
A Prayer For Amy
© 11 February 2006, The Griot Poet
Amy Green Dickerson
Sunrise: 7 February 1915. Sunset: 3 February 2006
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His Saints, Psalms 116:15
We laud those assembled here
For the home going of our precious Mother Dear.
Many a summer we can remember
Visiting before the rigor of school in September
How HAPPY she’d be to see us…
That lasted about a day!
After that welcome,
She’d task a detailed list of chores for us
Keeping us too busy for Satan’s mischief,
Making us render due reverence at each meal served.
We read the Bible; studied the Word, learned from her example how to pray.
Though diminutive in stature, she was a WARRIOR on her knees:
Supplexing principalities and pimp-slapping demons
Petitioning God-Almighty for the life of her assaulted husband Horace,
A noble soldier in the Civil Rights struggle
And each blessed one of her children’s, children’s children.
Mother Dear imparted “her mind, her will, her imagination, her emotions and her intellect” to you
It is this soul-glue that holds this family together
To weather the storms of wars;
Economic downturns and political struggle…
“What hath God wrought,” Samuel Morse, from this man of God and this matriarch?
All those chores she had you do,
And the beatings she’d administer with the switch you’d pursue
Imparted her character: “never quit, never give up”
To each one of you…
She breathed out her spirit long before this assemblage.
The tears we cry of her spirit’s departure, but not as those without hope!
We will se her again in that great day of freedom, “true North”
In the air with the LORD
And beyond the fear of violence, death or rope
“Jesus wept.”
And afterward, raised Lazarus like He will Mother Dear and each one of us.
Have HOPE and not distress!
Heaven has gained three noteworthy angels:
Rosa Parks;
Corretta Scott King;
And Amy Green Dickerson…
And “Pa-Pa” is reunited with his princess!
Amy Green Dickerson
Sunrise: 7 February 1915. Sunset: 3 February 2006
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His Saints, Psalms 116:15
We laud those assembled here
For the home going of our precious Mother Dear.
Many a summer we can remember
Visiting before the rigor of school in September
How HAPPY she’d be to see us…
That lasted about a day!
After that welcome,
She’d task a detailed list of chores for us
Keeping us too busy for Satan’s mischief,
Making us render due reverence at each meal served.
We read the Bible; studied the Word, learned from her example how to pray.
Though diminutive in stature, she was a WARRIOR on her knees:
Supplexing principalities and pimp-slapping demons
Petitioning God-Almighty for the life of her assaulted husband Horace,
A noble soldier in the Civil Rights struggle
And each blessed one of her children’s, children’s children.
Mother Dear imparted “her mind, her will, her imagination, her emotions and her intellect” to you
It is this soul-glue that holds this family together
To weather the storms of wars;
Economic downturns and political struggle…
“What hath God wrought,” Samuel Morse, from this man of God and this matriarch?
All those chores she had you do,
And the beatings she’d administer with the switch you’d pursue
Imparted her character: “never quit, never give up”
To each one of you…
She breathed out her spirit long before this assemblage.
The tears we cry of her spirit’s departure, but not as those without hope!
We will se her again in that great day of freedom, “true North”
In the air with the LORD
And beyond the fear of violence, death or rope
“Jesus wept.”
And afterward, raised Lazarus like He will Mother Dear and each one of us.
Have HOPE and not distress!
Heaven has gained three noteworthy angels:
Rosa Parks;
Corretta Scott King;
And Amy Green Dickerson…
And “Pa-Pa” is reunited with his princess!
Future Venues
© 12 February 2006, The Griot Poet
Inspired by an e-mail from Thom the World Poet and the article “Crossing the Rubicon” by John Pilger on truthout.org
Prepare to sing sonnets in foxholes
And haiku in bunkers
As the only theology will be the pleas
Of human beings to thunder deities
Reigning down "shock and awe"
With "rods of god"
And weapons of massive destruction
For an addiction not just to oil which withers and sours,
But to broad, maniacal unadulterated power!
"Better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven,"
John Milton knew us so well,
And we will soon have dominion over a cinder of what's left of earth:
Home of our birth
As ideologies replace ideas and scientific curiosity,
As scientific experts on global warming are silenced by
Politically appointed "hack-artists" lacking the graduation
Credentials from Texas A&M: he worked on the campaign;
He is our friend, is the only acid test of rampant cronyism
That spread from Texas to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Prophets Of Eternal Truths: sing loud at venues,
Like Pablo Neruda, we do not have time for "lilacs and
Poppy-petalled metaphysics."
We speak to megalomaniacs in ivory-glassed towers of babbling fools
Determined without consideration of consequence
Mjolnir's clap of nuclear lightning and sonic thunder:
Or, prepare to sing sonnets in foxholes
And haiku in bunkers!
Inspired by an e-mail from Thom the World Poet and the article “Crossing the Rubicon” by John Pilger on truthout.org
Prepare to sing sonnets in foxholes
And haiku in bunkers
As the only theology will be the pleas
Of human beings to thunder deities
Reigning down "shock and awe"
With "rods of god"
And weapons of massive destruction
For an addiction not just to oil which withers and sours,
But to broad, maniacal unadulterated power!
"Better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven,"
John Milton knew us so well,
And we will soon have dominion over a cinder of what's left of earth:
Home of our birth
As ideologies replace ideas and scientific curiosity,
As scientific experts on global warming are silenced by
Politically appointed "hack-artists" lacking the graduation
Credentials from Texas A&M: he worked on the campaign;
He is our friend, is the only acid test of rampant cronyism
That spread from Texas to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Prophets Of Eternal Truths: sing loud at venues,
Like Pablo Neruda, we do not have time for "lilacs and
Poppy-petalled metaphysics."
We speak to megalomaniacs in ivory-glassed towers of babbling fools
Determined without consideration of consequence
Mjolnir's clap of nuclear lightning and sonic thunder:
Or, prepare to sing sonnets in foxholes
And haiku in bunkers!
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Promotion to a New Conservatory
© 5 February 2006, The Griot Poet
1 Corinthians 13:13 "And now abide Faith, Hope, Love, These Three; but the greatest of these is Love."
Nary a word spoken on their first date
When a young philosophy major stated: "The four things that I look for in a wife are character, personality, intelligence and beauty. And you have them all."
She would fall under his spell a year later.
They would marry, have children, preach sermons, organize and participate in marches; dodge rocks, bullets, bombs, and CONINTELPRO pre-FISA electronic surveillance and death threats.
Yet, when she became a single mother and a famous widow, she picked up his mantle without hesitation.
It would be her purview to carry on his message of Civil Rights, Human Rights, Poverty Rights for workers in Memphis before her husband was buried, and like him: the sum total of her living was not the accumulation of things.
Yet, she fought hard to get the Martin Luther King Center for Non-Violent Social Change built. Despite seen by many as aloof, competing for monies from the Southern Christian Leadership Conference and more concerned with Martin’s legacy than his struggle.
Character
Before Bill embarrassed Hillary, she had to drink the bitter swill of his confession of infidelity. Even though he tried to justify it by saying “she reminded me of you,” the anger was probably hot and the suspicions of his not liking her on the trail coalesced on infidelity, not about her or the children’s safety. Yet, she stayed, through adultery, bombs and death threats…
Personality
Coretta had her own dreams and her own mind before the Morehouse fellow nicknamed “Tweed” turned on the charm. She caused quite an alarm to both Martins, father and son when she demanded the word “obey” from her wedding vows stricken: she was her OWN woman. She got her wish…
Intelligence
Coretta Scott was born April 27, 1927, the middle of three children born to Obadiah and Bernice Scott. She grew up poor, picking cotton in the hot fields of the segregated South, watching buses full of white kids pass to “separate but equal” schools or doing housework.
Coretta graduated first in her high school class of 17 in 1945. She thrived at Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio.
She studied education and music. Coretta Scott competed for and gained access to the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, Massachusetts. Not an easy feat even today! Her goal: to become a classical singer. She worked as a mail order clerk and cleaned houses to augment the fellowship that barely paid her tuition. Sister was on a mission…
Beauty
“Tweed” smoothly uttered the words: “You know every Napoleon has his Waterloo. I'm like Napoleon. I'm at my Waterloo, and I'm on my knees.”
She replied the elegant equivalent of “Negro, please!” “That’s absurd, you don’t even know me.”
Disappointed that he was shorter than she, he made up for this by his erudition and confidence. She made him wait six months after proposing before she said “yes.” At 350 guests, the wedding was the largest Atlanta had seen – then or since.
And who didn’t wish to be the cheek she kissed when he’d be freeze-framed for magazines like Ebony, Life, Time and Jet?
“Behind every great man” is so cliché. But without Coretta, would there be a Martin we laud today? Without Eve, would we remember Adam, who cowardly abdicated his responsibly in Africa/Eden, saying, “it was this woman you gave me?”
It is fitting she is the first person of African descent, male or female, to lie in state in the Georgia capital, after Brown proudly flying the “stars and bars.”
Though we wept, the vehicle that once housed her spirit and soul reflected the beauty that once dwelled within.
And Martin now has his final Waterloo in Heaven’s blue: reunited forever with his queen.
1 Corinthians 13:13 "And now abide Faith, Hope, Love, These Three; but the greatest of these is Love."
Nary a word spoken on their first date
When a young philosophy major stated: "The four things that I look for in a wife are character, personality, intelligence and beauty. And you have them all."
She would fall under his spell a year later.
They would marry, have children, preach sermons, organize and participate in marches; dodge rocks, bullets, bombs, and CONINTELPRO pre-FISA electronic surveillance and death threats.
Yet, when she became a single mother and a famous widow, she picked up his mantle without hesitation.
It would be her purview to carry on his message of Civil Rights, Human Rights, Poverty Rights for workers in Memphis before her husband was buried, and like him: the sum total of her living was not the accumulation of things.
Yet, she fought hard to get the Martin Luther King Center for Non-Violent Social Change built. Despite seen by many as aloof, competing for monies from the Southern Christian Leadership Conference and more concerned with Martin’s legacy than his struggle.
Character
Before Bill embarrassed Hillary, she had to drink the bitter swill of his confession of infidelity. Even though he tried to justify it by saying “she reminded me of you,” the anger was probably hot and the suspicions of his not liking her on the trail coalesced on infidelity, not about her or the children’s safety. Yet, she stayed, through adultery, bombs and death threats…
Personality
Coretta had her own dreams and her own mind before the Morehouse fellow nicknamed “Tweed” turned on the charm. She caused quite an alarm to both Martins, father and son when she demanded the word “obey” from her wedding vows stricken: she was her OWN woman. She got her wish…
Intelligence
Coretta Scott was born April 27, 1927, the middle of three children born to Obadiah and Bernice Scott. She grew up poor, picking cotton in the hot fields of the segregated South, watching buses full of white kids pass to “separate but equal” schools or doing housework.
Coretta graduated first in her high school class of 17 in 1945. She thrived at Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio.
She studied education and music. Coretta Scott competed for and gained access to the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, Massachusetts. Not an easy feat even today! Her goal: to become a classical singer. She worked as a mail order clerk and cleaned houses to augment the fellowship that barely paid her tuition. Sister was on a mission…
Beauty
“Tweed” smoothly uttered the words: “You know every Napoleon has his Waterloo. I'm like Napoleon. I'm at my Waterloo, and I'm on my knees.”
She replied the elegant equivalent of “Negro, please!” “That’s absurd, you don’t even know me.”
Disappointed that he was shorter than she, he made up for this by his erudition and confidence. She made him wait six months after proposing before she said “yes.” At 350 guests, the wedding was the largest Atlanta had seen – then or since.
And who didn’t wish to be the cheek she kissed when he’d be freeze-framed for magazines like Ebony, Life, Time and Jet?
“Behind every great man” is so cliché. But without Coretta, would there be a Martin we laud today? Without Eve, would we remember Adam, who cowardly abdicated his responsibly in Africa/Eden, saying, “it was this woman you gave me?”
It is fitting she is the first person of African descent, male or female, to lie in state in the Georgia capital, after Brown proudly flying the “stars and bars.”
Though we wept, the vehicle that once housed her spirit and soul reflected the beauty that once dwelled within.
And Martin now has his final Waterloo in Heaven’s blue: reunited forever with his queen.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Imperious Unum
© 15 January 2006, The Griot Poet
''The signing statement is saying 'I will only comply with this law when I want to, and if something arises in the war on terrorism where I think it's important to torture or engage in cruel, inhuman, and degrading conduct, I have the authority to do so and nothing in this law is going to stop me,' " he said. ''They don't want to come out and say it directly because it doesn't sound very nice, but it's unmistakable to anyone who has been following what's going on." David Golove, a New York University law professor who specializes in executive power issues, “Bush could bypass new torture ban Waiver right is reserved,” by Charlie Savage, Boston Globe Staff | January 4, 2006
1. You shall have no other gods before me.
Skull and Bones does not fall in this category. It is a Germanic, fraternal order, not a secret society, but a society with secrets! Besides, I spell Mammon with a little “g.”
2. You shall not make unto you any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.
The American eagle is and was the standard of old and new Rome. I’m the president: the KING of this home! It is not hypocritical for me to quote scripture, stating “wonder-working power” and curse out a staffer or middle finger a liberal in the next half hour!
3. You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain.
I’m the president! I don’t go against the grain to say my most eloquent cursing uses liberally YOUR name!
4. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
Except on strafing runs with Depleted Uranium guns for the wealth and protection of my rich cronies and their spoiled sons.
5. Honor your father and your mother: that your days may be long upon the land, which the LORD your God gives you.
I do indeed. It was Pappy’s connections that skated me from Vietnam into the Houston, Texas champagne squadron, survived two-failed business ventures and bought me two elections! I talk to him and my higher father regularly to run the country and my sobriety.
6. You shall not kill.
3,000 Americans died on 9-11, souls that went to Nirvana and Heaven. And the attack was predicted, and then conveniently discarded by my cabal from the Project for a New American Century. We needed a “new Pearl Harbor” to shake you from your apathy, have sympathy for Bill Krystal’s empire and accept your loss of liberty in the political night’s growing tyranny. Also: A few hundred heroic brothers spent in Afghanistan, 2,000 plus in Iraq for Saddam and weapons of mass destruction (that didn’t exists) and, oh about 30,000… others.
7. You shall not commit adultery.
Those lies are not true. Condi is my advisor. Besides, the dress this time was not blue!
8. You shall not steal.
We will make tax cuts for the upper 1% permanent. It stimulates the economy. What’s this talk of “no quality jobs?” It’s a HUGE job market; just check Wal-Mart, Temp America, Sears and Target!
9. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
It was the State of the Union Address. It was 16 words about a Uranium purchase that did not exist. I call that “faulty intelligence.” Besides, those weren’t my neighbors it was Congress! Most of you couldn’t afford the road that passes my ranch. So, get off this Air America, Common Cause, and Counter Punch, Truth Out conspiracy theory stance. You expect the Patriot Act to be some kind of caper: the Constitution just is a Got-Damned piece of paper!
10. You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his manservant, or his maidservant, or his ox, or his ass, or any thing that is your neighbor’s.
Again, you seem to be confused. Iraq is as far from the US as I am from you.
And though the land is salted and spoiled, the place is brimming with lovely oil! My bible has Eden in a mythical place. Saddam is Nebuchadnezzar’s descendant? Coincidence! Abraham’s city of Ur in Iraq? Ridiculous! Jesus black? Nonsense! Which is why we let the history museum be ransacked. Too much knowledge is a dangerous thing! That’s why we give you slogans and hopeless crisis’s like: the assault on Christmas, the assault on the sanctity of marriage, “we’ll smoke ‘em out,” “let’s roll!” Reality takes its toll on the controls we want to enforce. Be like ME! I’d never want anyone’s ass except those that are paying for my servitude abundantly. As for Condi: technically, she’s not my neighbor nor is she married!
''The signing statement is saying 'I will only comply with this law when I want to, and if something arises in the war on terrorism where I think it's important to torture or engage in cruel, inhuman, and degrading conduct, I have the authority to do so and nothing in this law is going to stop me,' " he said. ''They don't want to come out and say it directly because it doesn't sound very nice, but it's unmistakable to anyone who has been following what's going on." David Golove, a New York University law professor who specializes in executive power issues, “Bush could bypass new torture ban Waiver right is reserved,” by Charlie Savage, Boston Globe Staff | January 4, 2006
1. You shall have no other gods before me.
Skull and Bones does not fall in this category. It is a Germanic, fraternal order, not a secret society, but a society with secrets! Besides, I spell Mammon with a little “g.”
2. You shall not make unto you any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.
The American eagle is and was the standard of old and new Rome. I’m the president: the KING of this home! It is not hypocritical for me to quote scripture, stating “wonder-working power” and curse out a staffer or middle finger a liberal in the next half hour!
3. You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain.
I’m the president! I don’t go against the grain to say my most eloquent cursing uses liberally YOUR name!
4. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
Except on strafing runs with Depleted Uranium guns for the wealth and protection of my rich cronies and their spoiled sons.
5. Honor your father and your mother: that your days may be long upon the land, which the LORD your God gives you.
I do indeed. It was Pappy’s connections that skated me from Vietnam into the Houston, Texas champagne squadron, survived two-failed business ventures and bought me two elections! I talk to him and my higher father regularly to run the country and my sobriety.
6. You shall not kill.
3,000 Americans died on 9-11, souls that went to Nirvana and Heaven. And the attack was predicted, and then conveniently discarded by my cabal from the Project for a New American Century. We needed a “new Pearl Harbor” to shake you from your apathy, have sympathy for Bill Krystal’s empire and accept your loss of liberty in the political night’s growing tyranny. Also: A few hundred heroic brothers spent in Afghanistan, 2,000 plus in Iraq for Saddam and weapons of mass destruction (that didn’t exists) and, oh about 30,000… others.
7. You shall not commit adultery.
Those lies are not true. Condi is my advisor. Besides, the dress this time was not blue!
8. You shall not steal.
We will make tax cuts for the upper 1% permanent. It stimulates the economy. What’s this talk of “no quality jobs?” It’s a HUGE job market; just check Wal-Mart, Temp America, Sears and Target!
9. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.
It was the State of the Union Address. It was 16 words about a Uranium purchase that did not exist. I call that “faulty intelligence.” Besides, those weren’t my neighbors it was Congress! Most of you couldn’t afford the road that passes my ranch. So, get off this Air America, Common Cause, and Counter Punch, Truth Out conspiracy theory stance. You expect the Patriot Act to be some kind of caper: the Constitution just is a Got-Damned piece of paper!
10. You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his manservant, or his maidservant, or his ox, or his ass, or any thing that is your neighbor’s.
Again, you seem to be confused. Iraq is as far from the US as I am from you.
And though the land is salted and spoiled, the place is brimming with lovely oil! My bible has Eden in a mythical place. Saddam is Nebuchadnezzar’s descendant? Coincidence! Abraham’s city of Ur in Iraq? Ridiculous! Jesus black? Nonsense! Which is why we let the history museum be ransacked. Too much knowledge is a dangerous thing! That’s why we give you slogans and hopeless crisis’s like: the assault on Christmas, the assault on the sanctity of marriage, “we’ll smoke ‘em out,” “let’s roll!” Reality takes its toll on the controls we want to enforce. Be like ME! I’d never want anyone’s ass except those that are paying for my servitude abundantly. As for Condi: technically, she’s not my neighbor nor is she married!
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