Now rock the boat to a fare-thee-well.
Once we suffered dreaming
into a place where the children are playing
their child’s games
where children are hoping
knowledge survives
if unknowing they follow the game
without winning.
Their fathers are dying
back to the freedom of wise children playing
at knowing
their fathers are dying
whose deaths will not free them
of growing from knowledge
of knowing
when the game becomes foolish
a dangerous pleading
for time out of power.
Quick
children kiss us
we are growing through dream…
Published by permission of Audre
learn moreI had a good teacher,
He taught me everything I know
how to lie,
cheat, and how to strike the softest blow.
My teacher thought himself to be wise and right
He taught me things most people consider nice;
such as to pray,
smile, and how not to fight.
My teacher taught me other things too,
Things that I will be forever looking at;
how to berate,
segregate, and how to be inferior without hate.
My teacher’s wisdom forever grow,
He taught me things every child will know;
how to steal,
appeal, and accept most things against my will.
All these acts take as facts,
The mistake
One time henry dreamed the number
but we didn’t play it,
and do you know, that thing came out straight
3-67?
yes it did!
we was both sick
for a whole week,
could’a sure used
the money then too
that was back in hoover’s time
when folks was scufflin
to make ends meet.
i knock on wood though
we’ve lived through it all.
last night after we ate
the last of the meat loaf and greens
and was watching television
henry asked me if I remembered that,
i told him yes,
we laughed
then went to bed
and kept each other warm…
I can clear a beach or swimming pool without
touching water.
I can make a lunch counter become deserted
in less than an hour.
I can make property value drop by being seen
in a realtor’s tower.
I ALONE can make the word of God
have little or no meaning to many in Sunday’s morning prayer hour.
I have Power.
BLACK POWER…
Reference:
Haki
(IN MEMORY OF ALAIN LOCKE)
Amused contempt, is it, that scintillates
From your velvet domain
or contempt for the bemused who throng
The dim ascetic space?
Under the scrutiny of brown eyes and blue
You view Rome’s seven hills
Thinking, perhaps, of vacant yellow sands
undulant, limitless.
Though chaotic and obscure the furies
Who decree your present part,
Through anguished and confused the hungry eyes
Feeding upon your flesh,
You mediate the sordid encounter,
Osculant, putrid, rank
And regard, serene, the ceaseless discourse
Of wisdom and folly…….
