*They call me Muddy Water,
I’m just as restless man as the deep blue sea
Oh yeh they call me Muddy Water,
I’m just as restless man as the deep blue sea
You know I’ve been like that, ever since my baby been gone from me
The night she left me,
you know the rain boy was pouring down
Oh yeah the night the little girl left me,
you know the rain was pouring down
You know I was the most bluest man, in this whole Chicago town
I got a brand new babe,
she just as sweet man as a girl can be
Oh Lord I got a brand new girl,
she just as sweet man as a apple on a tree
I wanna tell all
The great, the good, and just the true,
Has yield up his latest breath;
The noblest man our country knew,
Bows to the ghastly monster, Death;
The son of one whose deathless name
Stands on history’s brightest page;
The highest on the list of fame
As statesman, patriot, and sage.
In early youth he learned to prize
The freedom which his father won;
The mantle of the patriot sire
Descended on his mightier son.
Science her deepest hidden lore
Beneath his potent touch revealed;
Philosophy’s abundant store,
Alike his mighty mind could wield.
The brilliant page of poetry
Received
I love a man who is not worth my love. Did this happen to your mother?
Did your grandmother wake up for no good reason in the middle of the night?
I thought love could be controlled. It cannot.
Only behavior can be controlled. By biting your tongue purple rather than speak. Mauling your lips. Obliterating his number too thoroughly to be able to phone.
Love has made me sick.
Did your sister throw up a lot? Did your cousin complain of a painful knot in her back?
learn moreAttend my lays, ye ever honored Nine,
Assist my labors, and my strains refine;
In smoothest numbers pour the notes along,
For bright Aurora now demands my song.
Aurora hail!
learn moreAmerica, it is to thee,
Thou boasted land of liberty,-
It is to thee I raise my song
Thou land of blood, and crime, and wrong.
It is to thee, my native land,
From which has issued many a band
To tear the black man from his soil,
And force him here to delve and toil;
Chained on your blood-be moistened sod,
Cringing beneath a tyrant’s rod,
Stripped of those rights which Nature’s God
Bequeathed to all the human race,
Bound to a pretty tyrant’s nod,
Because he wears a paler face…
black people, we raincloouds
closer to the sun and full of life.
soaking up the knowledge of the earth
storing it within ourselves
moving on
to spread truth throughout the world
we black clouds.
loved and feared.
ready to explode and give new life
to a dying planet
beautiful dark clouds
casting shadows of blackness
shadows of dignity
shadows of love
giving of ourselves to promote life while
realizing our ability to destroy
raincloouds we are
nature
nature
nature
natural!!!
black people , we raincloouds closer to the sun and full of life…..
A trifling man came home one night
And tiptoed to his door
To his despair, his little wifie was there
Waitin’ to lay down the law
Said she, “I’m thru, I’m really sick of you
Get out, stay out, and be on your way”
Well he dropped down on his knees
Cried “oh, please”,
But this is all she had to say:
Get up, get up, off your knees papa
You can’t win me back that way
Turn in, turn in all your keys papa
You really goin’ this time to stay
I discovered that you’re the worst man in this town
Looks like you’re fond of keepin’ on going lower down
Get up, get up, off your knees papa
Y
Let the knowing speak
Let the oppressed tell of their sorrows,
Of their salt and boundless grief.
Since even the wise and the brave
Must wonder, and the creeping mist
Of doubt, creep along the trough
Of pursuing woe…
To curl among the crevices
Of the most cannily armored brain.
Let those who can endure their doubts
Speak for the comfort of the weary
Who weep to know….
My grandmothers were strong.
They followed plows and bent to toil.
They moved through fields sowing seed.
The touched earth and grain grew.
They were full of sturdiness and singing.
My grandmothers were strong.
My grandmothers are full of memories
Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay
With veins rolling roughly over quick hands
They have many clean words to day.
My grandmothers were strong.
Why am I not like they???
Reference:
Margaret Walker
Black is what the prisons are,
The stagnant vortex of the hours
Swept into totality,
Creeping in the perjured heart,
Bitter in the vulgar rhyme,
Bitter on the walls;
Black is where the devils dance
With time within
The creviced wall.
