Sunday, June 20, 2010
Remembering Dad
 | ||
|
As the father of two young daughters, I know that being a father is one of the most important jobs any man can have. My own father left my family when I was two years old. I was raised by a heroic mother and wonderful grandparents who provided the support, discipline and love that helped me get to where I am today, but I still felt the weight of that absence throughout my childhood. It's something that leaves a hole no government can fill. Studies show that children who grow up without their fathers around are more likely to drop out of high school, go to jail, or become teen fathers themselves. And while no government program can fill the role that fathers play for our children, what we can do is try to support fathers who are willing to step up and fulfill their responsibilities as parents, partners and providers. That's why last year I started a nationwide dialogue on fatherhood to tackle the challenge of father absence head on. In Chicago, the Department of Health and Human Services held a forum with community leaders, fatherhood experts and everyday dads to discuss the importance of responsible fatherhood support programs. In New Hampshire, Secretary of Education Duncan explored the linkages between father absence and educational attainment in children. In Atlanta, Attorney General Holder spoke with fathers in the criminal justice system about ways local reentry organizations, domestic violence groups and fatherhood programs can join together to support ex-offenders and incarcerated individuals who want to be closer to their families and children. Now we're taking this to the next level. Tomorrow, I'll make an announcement about the next phase of our efforts to help fathers fulfill their responsibilities as parents -- The President's Fatherhood and Mentoring Initiative. You can learn more at www.fatherhood.gov. This Father's Day -- I'm thankful for the opportunity to be a dad to two wonderful daughters. And I'm thankful for all the wonderful fathers, grandfathers, uncles, brothers and friends who are doing their best to make a difference in the lives of a child. Happy Father's Day. Sincerely, | ||
Remembering Dad
for Paul Cobb and Henry Winston
Classic black man
Race man
How can people know more about him than I?
should I be mad at him or myself
the men tell me how great he was
he was dad to me
the man who whupped my ass unmercifully
who argued with mom til she packed us and left
the man who gambled at the Elk's lodge
while I listened to Elijah Muhammad on the radio upstairs
went to Lowell Jr. High
bloods beat down poor white boy when they killed Emmit Til
Dad used to make me go with him to funeral parlors
deliver flowers to dead Negroes
cold and gray
terrifying me
maybe he wanted to teach me not to fear death
Dad was known over the Bay
known in the clubs where he danced even in his 80s
the people have stories about him I've never heard
making me sad I didn't know him like this
public man
social man
political man
only as father man
distant
old fashioned
from World War I
dressed sharp every day
starched shirt
suit, tie, carnation in lapel
shoes shined at Perry's on 7th
Ollie and I went with him on Sundays
then to church
any and every church to promote his florist bizness
holy ghost
baptist
methodist
we made the rounds
ecumenical for bizness
age came to dad
starched shirts dirty
suits piss stained
never saw him sick
until those cigars caught up with him in his late 80s
in the hospital for a week or two and he was gone
the man I didn't know yet knew too well
the man I became yet couldn't wear his clothes
stand in his shoes
no matter what I become I cannot be him
only myself
what a shame
Does prince ever become king, really?
--Marvin X
6/20/10
from Sweet Tea/Dirty Rice, poems, Marvin X, Black Bird Press, late 2010.
Deniece Williams: Black Butterfly
Friday, June 18, 2010
Misty
Misty
for Verdia Pope, in memoriam
and what about all the forgotten women and men in our lives
the one night stands
the lies we told in the bar, then the hotel suite
remembering nothing the next morning
by next year the face is forgotten
a one night stand
on the road to...
it was a moment to forget
or remember fondly
if the lover had a pleasant attitude and didn't suffer sex guilt
because it was what it was
but it was over in an instant,
a good nut and good night
please don't call
I have a husband and/or wife
there are children
you cannot visit
let it be what it was
a moment in the sun
the illusion of joy
don't get serious at the pleasures of life when they come
enjoy the good times
and when the bad times come
roll with the punches.
--Marvin X
from Sweet Tea/Dirty Rice, poems, by Marvin X, Black Bird Press, late 2010.
for Verdia Pope, in memoriam
and what about all the forgotten women and men in our lives
the one night stands
the lies we told in the bar, then the hotel suite
remembering nothing the next morning
by next year the face is forgotten
a one night stand
on the road to...
it was a moment to forget
or remember fondly
if the lover had a pleasant attitude and didn't suffer sex guilt
because it was what it was
but it was over in an instant,
a good nut and good night
please don't call
I have a husband and/or wife
there are children
you cannot visit
let it be what it was
a moment in the sun
the illusion of joy
don't get serious at the pleasures of life when they come
enjoy the good times
and when the bad times come
roll with the punches.
--Marvin X
from Sweet Tea/Dirty Rice, poems, by Marvin X, Black Bird Press, late 2010.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Poem: If You're Still The Same Afterwards
POEM: IF YOU'RE STILL THE SAME AFTERWARDS
photo by Alex Lear
IF YOU'RE STILL THE SAME AFTERWARDS
IT WASN'T LOVE
(to nia, thanx for making me better)
to say
"i am touched
by you"
is to be
changed
/ into
a person neither of us
was before
entering the other
more open, a sun of sensitivity
emotionally nude, erupting joy
& willing to kiss life open mouthed
emoting the vibrancy of glow
endemic to souls in the flow
in fact, it's even unscientific
not to evol
ve/not to love, not to
grow & give back
the only humans who actually evolve
are lovers
all others
just simply fuck and reproduce
the transformation
of touch
that's all
love is
—kalamu ya salaam
Kalamu ya salaam is one of the founders of the Southern Black Arts Movement.
Friday, June 4, 2010
And then there are Angels
And then there are angels
And then there are angels
who come in the form of devils
advocating for Allah,
yet they speak in the voice of Satan
thou Allah is in their heart
they test the believer for Allah
is he true to the cause
does he truly believe
let us test him
challenge his faith
will he submit to me or Allah
Ah, he is a believer
His life and death are all for Allah!
We tell him to construct buildings for Allah
he rejects us
We tell him to kill in the name of Allah
he rejects us
The man of faith says Allah is a state of mind
not buildings, institutions, shrines, mosques
What is a building when there is nothing in the heart
it is a shell, the man a corpse of living matter
how shall a building benefit him
how shall fellowship keep his faith
he is a dead man walking
following the green line to the chamber.
--m
6/4/10
from Sweet Tea/Dirty Rice, poems, by Marvin X, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, late 2010.
$19.95, pre-publication price $15.00 (includes priority mailing).
X’s poems vibrate, whip, love in the most meta- and physical ways imaginable and un-. He’s got the humor of Pietri, the politics of Baraka, and the spiritual Muslim grounding that is totally new in English –- the ecstasy of Hafiz, the wisdom of Saadi. It’s not unusual for him to have a sequence of shortish lines followed by a culminating line that stretches a quarter page –- it is the dance of the dervishes, the rhythms of a Qasida.
--Bob Holman, Bowery Poetry Club, New York City
The Dead in Cyberspace
Are there really people in cyberspace--
they not ghosts from the past?
ancestors who speak without lips?
The silence is deafening.
Why are they brain dead yet hearts beating.
--m
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Palestine
PALESTINE
by Marvin X
(El Muhajir)
I am not an Arab, I am not a Jew
Abraham is not my father, Palestine is not my home
But I would fight any man
Who kicked me out of my house
To dwell in a tent
I would fight
To the ends of the earth
Someone who said to me
I want your house
Because my father lived here
Two thousand years ago
I want your land
Because my father lived here
Two thousand years ago.
Jets would not stop me
From returning to my home
Uncle toms would not stop me
Cluster bombs would not stop me
Bullets I would defy.
No man can take the house of another
And expect to live in peace
There is no peace for thieves
There is no peace for those who murder
For myths and ancient rituals
Wail at the wall
Settle in "Judea" and "Samaria"
But fate awaits you
You will never sleep with peace
You will never walk without listening.
I shall cross the River Jordan
With Justice in my hand
I shall return to Jerusalem
And establish my house of peace,
Thus said the Lord.
© 1976 by Marvin X ( El Muhajir)
Marvin X is an Oakland (CA) based African-American poet/playwright/activist, one of the
founders of the Black Arts Movement. According to Dr. Mohja Kahf, he
is the father of Muslim American Literature. Bob Holman calls him “The
USA’s Rumi." Ishmael Reed calls him “Plato teaching on the streets of Oakland.
Marvin X has Academy of Da Corner, downtown Oakland at 14th and Broadway,
outside. He also tours and speaks nationwide at universities and colleges, most
recently at Howard University, Morehouse College, Spelman College, University of Virginia, University of Houston, University of Penn, Temple University, Medgar Evers College, University of Arkansas and elsewhere. He has taught at San Francisco State University, University of California, Berkeley, University of California, San Diego, Fresno State University, Mills College, University of Nevada, Reno. He has received writing fellowships from Columbia University and the National Endowment
for the Arts and planning grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities. His website link is http://www.parablesandfablesofmarvinx.blogspot.com .His recent book is The Wisdom of Plato Negro, Parables/fables, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, 2010. His archives were acquired by the Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.
Round Midnight
Monk's gone
but I ain't blue
Monk's gone
but I ain't blue
where he's going
I'm going too.
trying to steal life
If it don't get the husband
It'll get the wife.
Monk's gone
but I ain't blue
Monk's gone
but I ain't blue.
--Marvin X
from Poems for North American Africans, Marvin X, Al Kitab Sudan Press, 1983.
Monk's gone
but I ain't blue
Monk's gone
but I ain't blue
where he's going
I'm going too.
Death is always around
trying to steal life
trying to steal life
If it don't get the husband
It'll get the wife.
Monk's gone
but I ain't blue
Monk's gone
but I ain't blue.
--Marvin X
from Poems for North American Africans, Marvin X, Al Kitab Sudan Press, 1983.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Meomorial Day,
Memorial Day
I am a veteran
Not of foreign battlefields
Like my father in world war one
My uncles in world war two
And Korea
my friends from Vietnam
And Congo “police action”
But veteran none the less
Exiled and jailed because I refused
To visit Vietnam as a running dog for imperialism
I visited Canada, Chicago, Harlem, Mexico and Belize
Federal prison for a minute
But veteran I am
of the war in the hood
war of domestic colonialism
neo-colonialism
White supremacy in black face war
Fighting for black power that turned white
Or was always white
as in the other white people
war it was and is
Every day without end
no RR no respite just war
For colors like kindergarten children war
For turf warriors don’t own and run when popo comes
War for drugs and guns and women
War for hatred jealousy envy
Dante got a scholarship
but couldn’t get on the plane fast enough
The boyz in the hood met him on the block and jacked him
Relieved him of his gear
shot him in the head because he could read
Play basketball
had all the pretty girls
a square
The boyz wanted him dead like themselves
Wanted him to have a shrine with liquor bottles and teddy bears
candles
Wanted his mama and daddy to weep and mourn at the funeral
Like all the other moms and dads, uncle aunts cousins
Why should he make it out the war zone
The blood and broken bones of war in the hood
No veterans day no benefits no mental health sessions
No conversation
who cares who wants to know about the dead
In the hood
warriors gone down in the ghetto night
We heard the Uzi at 3am and saw the body on the steps til 3 pm
When the coroner finally arrived as children passed from school
I am the veteran of ghetto wars of liberation aborted
morphed into wars of self destruction
drugs supplied from police vans
Guns diverted from the army base
sold 24/7 behind the Arab store.
Junior is 14 but the main arms merchant in the hood
sells guns from his backpack
His daddy wants to know how he get all them guns
Junior don’t tell cause he warrior
He’s lost more friends than daddy
What can daddy tell him about war
death and blood and bones
He says he will get rich or die trying
But life is for love not money
And if he lives he will learn.
If he makes it out the war zone to another world
Where they murder in suits and suites
golf courses and yachts
if he makes it even beyond this world
He will learn that love is better than money
For he was once on the auction block
sold as a thing property
For money, yes,
for the love of money but not for love
his memory short and absent of truth
blunted
The war in the hood has tricked him into the slave past
Like a programmed monkey
he acts out the slave auction
The sale of himself on the corner with his homeys
Trying to pose cool in the war zone
I will tell him the truth
maybe one day it will hit him like a bullet
In the head
It will hit him multiple times in the brain until he awakens to the real battle
In the turf of his mind.
And he will stand tall and deliver himself to the altar of truth to be a witness
Along with his homeys
They will take charge of their posts
They will claim their turf and it will be theirs forever
Not for a moment in the night
But in the day and in the tomorrows
And the war will be over
No more sorrow no more blood and bones
No more shrines on the corner with liquor bottles teddy bears and candles.
--Marvin X
25 May 2007
Brooklyn NY
revised 5/31/10
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Saturday, May 1, 2010
In the Temple of X
In the Temple of X
In the temple of X
no pimping
except MX pimping himself
everybody rich in temple
everybody in Mercedes
no poor once you get the light
Supreme Wisdom
don't get it but don't get it
you got it or ain't got it!
get real
you rich in the name of the Divine within yourself
You within God, God within you
no spook gods, no mysteries, no hoke as poke as rituals
heaven after you die
heaven while you live
death is hell
Sun Ra said to die is the only sin!
just plain truth
in the temple of X
no tithes, no slavery
take time for wife and family
no preacher get all the money
members starve
let's have burial plan, health plan
do for self plan
for everybody
use the mind God gave you plan
as Mama taught
showed with her do for self life
no welfare
no food stamps
just her country girl brain
common sense woman
raise eleven of us
including two grands
what manner of woman (rip)
I her special child
didn't know til siblings told me
later in life.
but she wouldn't have me for no man.
too lost in them books.
wouldn't do nothing on her mini farm.
irrigate crops, feed chickens, nothing
lost in them books
no good for wife
Mama said I needed maid, secretary, mistress
no wife.
Mama deep in her spirituality:
know the truth, truth will set you free.
No medicine cabinet in house, no pills, no doctor visit
know the truth, truth will set you free of dis-ease.
In the temple of X
all truth represented
will you hide truth while you know?
Nat Turner's in the temple of X
Harriet and Sojourner
Ida B. Wells
Booker T.
DuBois and Garvey
Noble Drew and Master Fard
Elijah and Malcolm
Martin too!
Nkrumah and Kwame Toure
Mandela and Winnie too.
in the temple of X.
How bout you?
Amiri, Askia, Sonia, Nikki
Haki, Ngugi wa Thi'ango
Wole Soyinka.
all member of the temple of X.
--Marvin X
5/1//10
Bay Area folks can join Marvin X for a celebration of his latest book The Wisdom of Plato Negro, Parables and Fables, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, 309 pages, $100.00. The celebration, read-in/teach-in will be at the African American Museum Library, 14th and Martin Luther King, Jr, downtown Oakland, Saturday, May 15, 2pm, donations accepted, but the book is $100.00.
The black liberation army soldiers will read to you free of charge. Advance the cultural revolution. Long Live the Black Arts Movement. Long Live Hip Hop!
www.parablesandfablesofmarvinx.blogspot.com
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Poems for CD
Real Love, song, poem, Dreamtime
Dreamtime
Enough enough enough
of rain and pain sand and shore
enough bloody rivers flowing to sea
enough of you and me
moving breathing but going nowhere
enough living
yet not loving
standing still in the light
yet darkness all around
enough enough of ignorance
beating down wisdom of ages
sun in wind
stars at window
fear of the mothership enough
mothership the mind of men and women who think as one
move beyond space to better place
sun and time a dance moving the world
enough
talk to me right
no control no boss
no whip no pain
no demands that never work
I am me and you are you
we are one in the mothership of life
enough
your hair and mine
things don't matter
they are things
beyond time and space enough
to go beyond the moment called life
to a place called love
we spend the day and the life
trying not to go there
because we are already there
cannot escape love
even in death I will love you
cherish praise you
think of you honor you
squeeze you in my dreams
enough
will you be there when they crucify my Lord
will you stand or run in your fear and trembling
enough
run into the black hole and disappear
no movement like death in the morning
all is still and you walk because life is love
and love is life enough
to be alive yet not living
even speaking
because of yesterday morning pain
we hold even when today and tomorrow have come and gone
yet we hold pain
because it is better than loving
a kind of masturbation
to avoid the joy of sex in the morning
because we fear to speak the words I love you
silence becomes eternal
yet life is to be lived
not promised
not a thought
but lived in all its glory
for the pitiful moment we walk upon the sand and shore
knowing
the sand will slip into the tide
disappear somewhere
beyond sunset
enough
6/19/04
revised 2/14/10
Song, Do Not Be Afraid
We're In Love, But You Don't Know Me
You don't know me
you had a chance to know me
before we made love
you had a chance to know my mind
understand my fears
learn about issues
help me heal some things
but you wanted to make love
so you don't know me
we made love
but you don't know me
don't have a clue
think I'm a good d
or some good tight p
but you don't know me
and never will now
because you wanted to make love
you wanted to get a nut
we didn't even talk much
a little bit leading up to sex
I went along
I was horny too
but you don't know me
and I don't know you
now we never will
we blew it forever
because we made love
too fast too quick too soon
now you think you own me
I can't breathe
can't talk on the phone to friends
because we made love
because I gave you some d
you gave me some p
now I'm no longer human
I'm your love slave you my slave
we're in love
but you don't know me
we gonna get married
but you don't know me
we're gonna have children
but you don't know me
you're gonna beat my ass
but you don't know me
you're going to jail
but you don't know me
we're getting a divorce
but you don't know me
now we're friends
"Just Friends" Charlie Parker tune
But you don't know me
and never will.
Song, the Best Thing That Happened to Me
What is Love?
What is love
only kisses hugswhat is love
only meetings of the minds
what about times when minds do not meet
is love not present in the air in the blood of loving souls
too ignorant to know the test of love
the many ways it strives to be and not be
yet is always
and forever
not always tender
sometimes rough and sharp
like a razor cutting to the heart
love is pain
we take to grow
be strong again
tears in the night
alone again
we find ourselves
wondering
if love was even real
yet it was
if we see
if we look
beyond romantic notions of everything is cool always with love
but we know the blues of love
when we miss the wrords from lips so tender in truth
but we miss them
in haste
to be the authority on love
yet love
has beeen around since eternity and will stay
when lovers have gone away
it will stay
in spite of all the tears
the fights
the verbal bouts
even the put outs
and come backs
and gimme my keys
and why don't you call
and don't you still care
and why did you go
and do you reallly lover her or really love him
after all the time we shared
how could you do this to me
after all I did for you in the night
what is love
sometimes we must enjoy the hurt the pain
to grow
be wise again
this time
with God
in the center of things
but try
for love is precious
time is short
life must be lived with joy
somehow
through it all
let joy arise
take control of love.
--Marvin X
from Land of My Daughters, poems, 2005,
Black Bird Press, Berkeley
Early Morning Love Song
Love is for the Beloved
Love is for the beloved
Selfless totally
Agent of joy
At one’s pleasure
Desire
Transcending self
Love is all there is
Like a good deal at the Flea Market
You can’t pass.
Gotta squeeze ya real tight.
Reasons.
self to divine self
Get real with love
Up from animal
monkey mind
Illusions
Listen to the whirlwind of Garvey
Motherplane is here for you
Better ax somebody,
Houston TX
Denial of self
Sweet submission
What is beyond giving all
We feed you for Allah’s pleasure only
We desire from you neither reward nor thanks.
Al Qur’an.
Dreamtime
Enough enough enough
of rain and pain sand and shore
enough bloody rivers flowing to sea
enough of you and me
moving breathing but going nowhere
enough living
yet not loving
standing still in the light
yet darkness all around
enough enough of ignorance
beating down wisdom of ages
sun in wind
stars at window
fear of the mothership enough
mothership the mind of men and women who think as one
move beyond space to better place
sun and time a dance moving the world
enough
talk to me right
no control no boss
no whip no pain
no demands that never work
I am me and you are you
we are one in the mothership of life
enough
your hair and mine
things don't matter
they are things
beyond time and space enough
to go beyond the moment called life
to a place called love
we spend the day and the life
trying not to go there
because we are already there
cannot escape love
even in death I will love you
cherish praise you
think of you honor you
squeeze you in my dreams
enough
will you be there when they crucify my Lord
will you stand or run in your fear and trembling
enough
run into the black hole and disappear
no movement like death in the morning
all is still and you walk because life is love
and love is life enough
to be alive yet not living
even speaking
because of yesterday morning pain
we hold even when today and tomorrow have come and gone
yet we hold pain
because it is better than loving
a kind of masturbation
to avoid the joy of sex in the morning
because we fear to speak the words I love you
silence becomes eternal
yet life is to be lived
not promised
not a thought
but lived in all its glory
for the pitiful moment we walk upon the sand and shore
knowing
the sand will slip into the tide
disappear somewhere
beyond sunset
enough
6/19/04
revised 2/14/10
Song, Do Not Be Afraid
We're In Love, But You Don't Know Me
You don't know me
you had a chance to know me
before we made love
you had a chance to know my mind
understand my fears
learn about issues
help me heal some things
but you wanted to make love
so you don't know me
we made love
but you don't know me
don't have a clue
think I'm a good d
or some good tight p
but you don't know me
and never will now
because you wanted to make love
you wanted to get a nut
we didn't even talk much
a little bit leading up to sex
I went along
I was horny too
but you don't know me
and I don't know you
now we never will
we blew it forever
because we made love
too fast too quick too soon
now you think you own me
I can't breathe
can't talk on the phone to friends
because we made love
because I gave you some d
you gave me some p
now I'm no longer human
I'm your love slave you my slave
we're in love
but you don't know me
we gonna get married
but you don't know me
we're gonna have children
but you don't know me
you're gonna beat my ass
but you don't know me
you're going to jail
but you don't know me
we're getting a divorce
but you don't know me
now we're friends
"Just Friends" Charlie Parker tune
But you don't know me
and never will.
Song, the Best Thing That Happened to Me
What is Love?
What is love
only kisses hugswhat is love
only meetings of the minds
what about times when minds do not meet
is love not present in the air in the blood of loving souls
too ignorant to know the test of love
the many ways it strives to be and not be
yet is always
and forever
not always tender
sometimes rough and sharp
like a razor cutting to the heart
love is pain
we take to grow
be strong again
tears in the night
alone again
we find ourselves
wondering
if love was even real
yet it was
if we see
if we look
beyond romantic notions of everything is cool always with love
but we know the blues of love
when we miss the wrords from lips so tender in truth
but we miss them
in haste
to be the authority on love
yet love
has beeen around since eternity and will stay
when lovers have gone away
it will stay
in spite of all the tears
the fights
the verbal bouts
even the put outs
and come backs
and gimme my keys
and why don't you call
and don't you still care
and why did you go
and do you reallly lover her or really love him
after all the time we shared
how could you do this to me
after all I did for you in the night
what is love
sometimes we must enjoy the hurt the pain
to grow
be wise again
this time
with God
in the center of things
but try
for love is precious
time is short
life must be lived with joy
somehow
through it all
let joy arise
take control of love.
--Marvin X
from Land of My Daughters, poems, 2005,
Black Bird Press, Berkeley
Early Morning Love Song
Love is for the Beloved
Love is for the beloved
Selfless totally
Agent of joy
At one’s pleasure
Desire
Transcending self
Love is all there is
Like a good deal at the Flea Market
You can’t pass.
Gotta squeeze ya real tight.
Reasons.
self to divine self
Get real with love
Up from animal
monkey mind
Illusions
Listen to the whirlwind of Garvey
Motherplane is here for you
Better ax somebody,
Houston TX
Denial of self
Sweet submission
What is beyond giving all
We feed you for Allah’s pleasure only
We desire from you neither reward nor thanks.
Al Qur’an.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Madness & Poets
(For Marvin X)
All poets are mad Baba.
It’s in the saying of unsayables
the seeing the unseen
mad from murals of mundaneness
masquerading as meaning
we tag truth in acid
with lethal pens we
carve epiphany on the
heaving breast of humanity
hear me: I am
Godz voice,
you see?
Mad.
Crazed with grief
lack of sleep
poems keep knocking
screaming
howling accusations
insisting on justice
or blood
and the terrible knowledge
they may be the same.
Knowing its ill to be well
in insanity
we are religiously mad
listening to the jokes Godz tell
about the planz men make
we invoke open eyes
amongst the blind
literate itinerants
healing wounds
stapled with the gutz of prophetz
whose spines have been
broken open so poems
can be stitched to their
cleaved carcasses.
Poets grow in
the recesses of society's
bowels deep in the
world's shit we
spin beauty in the beast
to soothe the savage
someone should dance now
like poets spin
daring poems to be dervishes.
The trajectory of a poem
spit with accuracy
resembles lyrical alchemy
turning impossible into
the color blue.
I am a poet
long past caring about
disposed scholars who
lie in standard English
we break tense like fences
that separate us from them:
flow oceanic
if you ain’t up on it
long tongue ju ju poets
say soothes
somber inelegant truths
salvaged from graveyards
laureates go hard,
sharp spiters are split
at the larynx hurling
neologisms like clever hexes-
some like sharks
eat the open mic
& spit back
silk stitched caresses.
In words we are invested
& you said
the devil is in the language
so sometimes it be ebonics
we stay hooked on phonics
& known to slam in spanglish
poets float but don’t drift
past tipping points
blaze in smokin joints
bent on makin points
angels dance on pointed tongues
bleeding metaphors
& poetry ain’t the whore
its poets who crush lyric
on temple floors
its poets who commit
commissioned sins
in the name of the mortgage.
Loosely intercoursing textually
he said:
the poems have left
the building
stop texting me,
but I can’t
because words are
like sex to me
I’m mesmerized
by poetry’s ejaculation
I trick without hesitation
love it passionately
ain’t no reservations
even when it dogs me
I’m stuck in the relationship
It’s good
I don’t trip
without poetry’s caress
my wig would slip
I’d blow up not a little
but a lot of shit
poetry is my drug of choice
& my weapon
I keep a full clip
I’m poetry’s bitch
& I’m good with this.
Baba all poets are mad.
On this we can agree
Grand Baba Amiri & you
& like fruit & trees
I guess I be mad too.
(For Marvin X)
All poets are mad Baba.
It’s in the saying of unsayables
the seeing the unseen
mad from murals of mundaneness
masquerading as meaning
we tag truth in acid
with lethal pens we
carve epiphany on the
heaving breast of humanity
hear me: I am
Godz voice,
you see?
Mad.
Crazed with grief
lack of sleep
poems keep knocking
screaming
howling accusations
insisting on justice
or blood
and the terrible knowledge
they may be the same.
Knowing its ill to be well
in insanity
we are religiously mad
listening to the jokes Godz tell
about the planz men make
we invoke open eyes
amongst the blind
literate itinerants
healing wounds
stapled with the gutz of prophetz
whose spines have been
broken open so poems
can be stitched to their
cleaved carcasses.
Poets grow in
the recesses of society's
bowels deep in the
world's shit we
spin beauty in the beast
to soothe the savage
someone should dance now
like poets spin
daring poems to be dervishes.
The trajectory of a poem
spit with accuracy
resembles lyrical alchemy
turning impossible into
the color blue.
I am a poet
long past caring about
disposed scholars who
lie in standard English
we break tense like fences
that separate us from them:
flow oceanic
if you ain’t up on it
long tongue ju ju poets
say soothes
somber inelegant truths
salvaged from graveyards
laureates go hard,
sharp spiters are split
at the larynx hurling
neologisms like clever hexes-
some like sharks
eat the open mic
& spit back
silk stitched caresses.
In words we are invested
& you said
the devil is in the language
so sometimes it be ebonics
we stay hooked on phonics
& known to slam in spanglish
poets float but don’t drift
past tipping points
blaze in smokin joints
bent on makin points
angels dance on pointed tongues
bleeding metaphors
& poetry ain’t the whore
its poets who crush lyric
on temple floors
its poets who commit
commissioned sins
in the name of the mortgage.
Loosely intercoursing textually
he said:
the poems have left
the building
stop texting me,
but I can’t
because words are
like sex to me
I’m mesmerized
by poetry’s ejaculation
I trick without hesitation
love it passionately
ain’t no reservations
even when it dogs me
I’m stuck in the relationship
It’s good
I don’t trip
without poetry’s caress
my wig would slip
I’d blow up not a little
but a lot of shit
poetry is my drug of choice
& my weapon
I keep a full clip
I’m poetry’s bitch
& I’m good with this.
Baba all poets are mad.
On this we can agree
Grand Baba Amiri & you
& like fruit & trees
I guess I be mad too.
Prayer is better than sleep.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
There Was An Island
There was an island called Jerusalem
it disappeared into the Arabian Sea
call it climate warming
island no more
people can fish now
in the sea
where island used to be
fish sweet tasty
sea peaceful now
waves gentle
tide comes to shore like old times
before Abraham
when Canaan and Mizraim were brothers.
--Marvin X
3/23/10
Monday, March 22, 2010
Poem for Marvin X, by J. V. Cromartie
Street Spirits
(For Marvin X)
under a red sky
you have roamed
the streets of San Francisco
rapping about homeless blues
in your poetry
in your life
in your spirit
under a red sky
i saw you
once selling the Poetry Flash
to rich tourists and wondered
whether you would become
the next Bob Kaufman
under a red sky
you have roamed the beaches
of the Golden State
praying here and there
remembering your sweet Sherley
confessing your sins and mistakes
under a red sky
you have remembered
that a poet is full
of great feelings
of love
for God
for self
for others
whether the poet
is homeless
or not
under a red sky
you have helped me
to embrace
the street spirits
and the rays
of a red sun
with your poetry
with your life
with your spirit.
--J. Vern Cromartie
© 2005
Another One for Marvin X
start out in Fowler
go to Fresno
and fall in love forever
with a deep chocolate woman
who loves you and your poetry
you know she loves you
forever like the waves
rolling in the dock of the bay
she loved you
this woman loved you
when she breathed
her last breath
sometimes you see her
in your sleep
and you wonder
about what could have been
about what should have been
about what was your flight
to love forever
the power of love
is holy
Jimi Hendix
knew this holiness
in his dreams
when he sang
deep into the night
about the
power of love
if you want to follow
on the mantle of Jeremiah
let the power of love
drench your soul
forever.
--J. Vern Cromartie
© 2006
Dr. J. Vern Cromartie is a poet and chair of the Sociology Department at
Contra Costa College. He is a former student of Marvin X when he taught
drama at Laney College. Dr. Cromartie recently delivered a research
paper on Marvin X's brief tenure at UC Berkeley. Read his paper on
under a red sky
you have roamed
the streets of San Francisco
rapping about homeless blues
in your poetry
in your life
in your spirit
under a red sky
i saw you
once selling the Poetry Flash
to rich tourists and wondered
whether you would become
the next Bob Kaufman
under a red sky
you have roamed the beaches
of the Golden State
praying here and there
remembering your sweet Sherley
confessing your sins and mistakes
under a red sky
you have remembered
that a poet is full
of great feelings
of love
for God
for self
for others
whether the poet
is homeless
or not
under a red sky
you have helped me
to embrace
the street spirits
and the rays
of a red sun
with your poetry
with your life
with your spirit.
--J. Vern Cromartie
© 2005
Another One for Marvin X
start out in Fowler
go to Fresno
and fall in love forever
with a deep chocolate woman
who loves you and your poetry
you know she loves you
forever like the waves
rolling in the dock of the bay
she loved you
this woman loved you
when she breathed
her last breath
sometimes you see her
in your sleep
and you wonder
about what could have been
about what should have been
about what was your flight
to love forever
the power of love
is holy
Jimi Hendix
knew this holiness
in his dreams
when he sang
deep into the night
about the
power of love
if you want to follow
on the mantle of Jeremiah
let the power of love
drench your soul
forever.
--J. Vern Cromartie
© 2006
Dr. J. Vern Cromartie is a poet and chair of the Sociology Department at
Contra Costa College. He is a former student of Marvin X when he taught
drama at Laney College. Dr. Cromartie recently delivered a research
paper on Marvin X's brief tenure at UC Berkeley. Read his paper on
Friday, March 19, 2010
A Street Named Rashidah Muhammad
There is a street in Oakland
nobody knows
hardly sees
they pass it going downtown on 20th Street/Tom Berkley Way (A Black Man)
Rashidah intersecting Tom Berkley
how nice
a black man's street intersecting a black woman's street
how nice
but who knows this Rashidah Muhammad
how many women or men or children
black or white, Muslim, Christian
but there it is
Rashidah Muhammad Street
named for a little warrior woman
midwife community organizer mother wife lover
who fought and killed her white rapist
down south and survived
police beatings and prison
The Uhuru Movement pushed her case nationwide
Free Dessie X
Free Dessie X
Uhuru! Uhuru!
Salaam Rashidah Muhammad Salaam.
We love you.
--Marvin X
3/19/10
There is a street in Oakland
nobody knows
hardly sees
they pass it going downtown on 20th Street/Tom Berkley Way (A Black Man)
Rashidah intersecting Tom Berkley
how nice
a black man's street intersecting a black woman's street
how nice
but who knows this Rashidah Muhammad
how many women or men or children
black or white, Muslim, Christian
but there it is
Rashidah Muhammad Street
named for a little warrior woman
midwife community organizer mother wife lover
who fought and killed her white rapist
down south and survived
police beatings and prison
The Uhuru Movement pushed her case nationwide
Free Dessie X
Free Dessie X
Uhuru! Uhuru!
Salaam Rashidah Muhammad Salaam.
We love you.
--Marvin X
3/19/10
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
I Am John Coltrane
I am John Coltrane
not with horn
but pen
beyond words to silence
not sound
words sacred
profane obscene
no proper politically correct
beyond bourgeoisie culture police
revolutionary puritans
I am John Coltrane
not with horn
but pen
beyond words to silence
not sound
words sacred
profane obscene
no proper politically correct
beyond bourgeoisie culture police
revolutionary puritans
who say
don't say nigguh but kill nigguhs at every turn
turn holy in prison doing push ups after killing all nigguhs in the hood
don't say motherfucker
but fuck their mothers, daughters, sons and anything else under the sun
but don't say motherfucker
don't say bitch
don't say nigguh but kill nigguhs at every turn
turn holy in prison doing push ups after killing all nigguhs in the hood
don't say motherfucker
but fuck their mothers, daughters, sons and anything else under the sun
but don't say motherfucker
don't say bitch
while they are the real bitch in disguise of mother Theresa
Fuck the King's English
Fuck the King's English
the king and his mama
I am Freedom in discipline
all words in context
No political correctness
Sun Ra taught somebody elses idea of somebody elses world
not my idea
Sonny said I am not holy man
ain't crucifying me
that's for Jesus, Osiris, Malcolm, Martin, Medgar
My words shall crucify you
hang you on the cross and lynching tree of truth
people want low down dirty truth
Sonny taught me
no holy ghost truth
miller lite truth
watered down diluted polluted
pasteurized homogenized truth
Don't think nice of me
no politician here
vote for me I'll set you free here truth
hate me
more people love me
common people with common sense
no academic negores holy ghost negroes
common people with common sense
I am Freedom in discipline
all words in context
No political correctness
Sun Ra taught somebody elses idea of somebody elses world
not my idea
Sonny said I am not holy man
ain't crucifying me
that's for Jesus, Osiris, Malcolm, Martin, Medgar
My words shall crucify you
hang you on the cross and lynching tree of truth
people want low down dirty truth
Sonny taught me
no holy ghost truth
miller lite truth
watered down diluted polluted
pasteurized homogenized truth
Don't think nice of me
no politician here
vote for me I'll set you free here truth
hate me
more people love me
common people with common sense
no academic negores holy ghost negroes
common people with common sense
don't read book by cover common sense people
seeking truth and relief from suffering
light for children slipping in darkness
somebody help me
I am shaman truth
between darkness and light
before dawn truth
working my twist while wicked sleep
your world is not my world
and my world is not your world
to you your way and to me mine
lakum dinu kum waliya din.
Catch me in my hour of madness
did you invite me to your gladness
don't want your sadness
Sonny taught me this
holy rats
bourgeoisie swine
nigguh please!
get up outta here wit dat!
Square nigguhs will get ya killed
hustler podna's taught me that
I walk alone
Men of fear
cannot walk this road
I walk alone
men who snitch
who snibble
who take evidence to pharaoh
cannot walk this road
I walk alone
john coltrane
john coltrane
a love supreme
a love supreme
space is the place
space is the place.
Muhammad said live like you here for eternity
and live like death is tomorrow at dawn
why are you breathing
exercising
what reason what purpose
what program
Huey Newton asked me in our first meeting
what is your program, Jackmon?
I am John Coltrane
writing is fighting
writing is fighting
A love supreme
A love supreme
You can't touch this
beyond the beyond
beyond words
religion
politics money sex
vote for me
I'll set you free truth
see the stars. moon. sun.
I am blue man
blue trane.
Trane moving on
catch me if you can
my intensity consumes you
get out da kitchen
I am terror in the night
the dream the prayer of ancestors
for every hurtful thing
I speak and sing songs of the lion king
nothing holy nothing nice
catch me if you can
see my mask
the mask you fear
in your bones and blood
I am the wind
a pleasure to my people
I am the sun
A pleasure to my people
common sense people
beyond edumakion from the devil people
simple minded shit
where was he ten trillion years ago
Space is the place
Space is the place.
A love supreme
A love supreme.
--Marvin X
3/17/10
light for children slipping in darkness
somebody help me
I am shaman truth
between darkness and light
before dawn truth
working my twist while wicked sleep
your world is not my world
and my world is not your world
to you your way and to me mine
lakum dinu kum waliya din.
Catch me in my hour of madness
did you invite me to your gladness
don't want your sadness
Sonny taught me this
holy rats
bourgeoisie swine
nigguh please!
get up outta here wit dat!
Square nigguhs will get ya killed
hustler podna's taught me that
I walk alone
Men of fear
cannot walk this road
I walk alone
men who snitch
who snibble
who take evidence to pharaoh
cannot walk this road
I walk alone
john coltrane
john coltrane
a love supreme
a love supreme
space is the place
space is the place.
Muhammad said live like you here for eternity
and live like death is tomorrow at dawn
why are you breathing
exercising
what reason what purpose
what program
Huey Newton asked me in our first meeting
what is your program, Jackmon?
I am John Coltrane
writing is fighting
writing is fighting
A love supreme
A love supreme
You can't touch this
beyond the beyond
beyond words
religion
politics money sex
vote for me
I'll set you free truth
see the stars. moon. sun.
I am blue man
blue trane.
Trane moving on
catch me if you can
my intensity consumes you
get out da kitchen
I am terror in the night
the dream the prayer of ancestors
for every hurtful thing
I speak and sing songs of the lion king
nothing holy nothing nice
catch me if you can
see my mask
the mask you fear
in your bones and blood
I am the wind
a pleasure to my people
I am the sun
A pleasure to my people
common sense people
beyond edumakion from the devil people
simple minded shit
where was he ten trillion years ago
Space is the place
Space is the place.
A love supreme
A love supreme.
--Marvin X
3/17/10
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Muhammad
She went to the door
when Master Fard knocked
selling red silk
asked was brother there
she said yeah
he in the back
drunk as a coot
Master Fard
sobered him
raised him from dead
so-called negro
Master departed
Elijah in charge
brothers said no
even his own brother
Kallot
Elijah ran seven years
black devils after him
"I will eat one grain of rice
til we kill Elijah."
Clara ran Nation
raised children
Elijah came home
snatched again by devil
this time white
charged with sedition
draft evasion
five years prison
Clara ran Nation
raised children
a little silent woman
disrespected by sisters
who shared her man
in her face
caught on roof
getting to her man
why they dis me
in my face?
she told Nisa Islam
Clara
first lady of the Nation
silent warrior
where is her bio
her mention on Women's Month
No black studies of Clara
comforter of Elijah
chief wife
mother of Herbert, Wallace,
Akbar, Ethel, et al
who will tell her story
raise her name to glory
this silent warrior
who nurtured Nation
those early days
when Elijah fled for his life
from black devils
white devils too.
who will call her name
great ancestor Clara.
I w
as in her houseshe spoke to me
As-Salaam-Alaikum.
--Marvin X
3/10/10
Friday, March 5, 2010
PALESTINE
By Marvin X
By Marvin X
(Imam Maalik El Muhajir)
I am not an Arab, I am not a JewAbraham is not my father
Palestine is not my home
But I would fight any man
Who kicked me out of my house
To dwell in a tent
I would fight
To the ends of the earth
Someone who said to me
I want your house
Because my father lived here
Two thousand years ago
I want your land
Because my father lived here
Two thousand years ago.
Jets would not stop me
From returning to my home
Uncle Toms would not stop me
Cluster bombs would not stop me
Bullets I would defy.
No man can take the house of another
And expect to live in peace
There is no peace for thieves
There is no peace for those who murder
For myths and ancient rituals
Wail at the wall
Settle in "Judea" and "Samaria"
But fate awaits you
You will never sleep with peace
You will never walk without listening.
I shall cross the River Jordan
With Justice in my hand
I shall return to Jerusalem
And establish my house of peace,
Thus said the Lord.
* * * * *
39 Minutes in Jazz History A few months ago, Marvin X made jazz history when he brought together two of the greatest musicians in jazz to perform with him at Warm Daddies Club in Philly: Marshall Allen, 78 year old alto sax master from Sun Ra's Arkestra and bag pipe genius Rufas Harley, both men live in Philly's Germantown but had never performed together. Other participants include Elliot Bey, keyboards, Alexander El, trap drums, Ancestor Blue Sky, djembe, Danny Thompson, flute, Elo, sax. Marvin X reads. A Recovery Theatre East production.
Order this dvd Marvin X Live in Philly at Warm Daddies, Black Bird Press, 1222 Dwigh
t Way, Berkeley Ca 94702, $19.95. http://www.universityofpoetry.blogspot.com/
Order this dvd Marvin X Live in Philly at Warm Daddies, Black Bird Press, 1222 Dwigh
t Way, Berkeley Ca 94702, $19.95. http://www.universityofpoetry.blogspot.com/ Thursday, March 4, 2010
Dr. Nathan Hare's Fictive Theory
The Fictive Theory
Dr. Nathan Hare teaches us
the fictive theory
everything the white man says
and his woman too
(she's him in drag, says the doctor)
is fiction
til proven fact
no matter news
bible
president (black face too)
garden of eden
the snake the apple
fiction
snakes don't talk
cept two legged snakes
who deceive the world
bbc, abc, cbs, nbc, npr, cnn
all fiction
all history sociology psychology
econ finance romance fiction
love words fiction
when not followed by action
rap songs bout ganstas
from suburbia and prep school fiction
their nursery rhymes
sleepy time tea beats
fiction
called lies in the hood
nigguhs tell lies all night
white man lies all day
while sun shines
bright in yo face lies
with a smile
when will nigguhs lie to him
straight face bold
smile and grin
shuffle even like old tom
but lie
he say ain't no war in iraq
he's spreading democracy
no depleted uranium
just deformed babies born daily
deformed babies is price of democracy
american style
he spread democracy in Iran when he brought back the Shah
in chile when he overthrew allende
in vietnam when he filled american bodies with heroin for the ride home
all tales told by an idiot
full of sound and fury
signifying nothing
fictive theory
remember
news ain't news
ain't nothing but the blues.
2/4/10
Dr. Nathan Hare teaches us
the fictive theory
everything the white man says
and his woman too
(she's him in drag, says the doctor)
is fiction
til proven fact
no matter news
bible
president (black face too)
garden of eden
the snake the apple
fiction
snakes don't talk
cept two legged snakes
who deceive the world
bbc, abc, cbs, nbc, npr, cnn
all fiction
all history sociology psychology
econ finance romance fiction
love words fiction
when not followed by action
rap songs bout ganstas
from suburbia and prep school fiction
their nursery rhymes
sleepy time tea beats
fiction
called lies in the hood
nigguhs tell lies all night
white man lies all day
while sun shines
bright in yo face lies
with a smile
when will nigguhs lie to him
straight face bold
smile and grin
shuffle even like old tom
but lie
he say ain't no war in iraq
he's spreading democracy
no depleted uranium
just deformed babies born daily
deformed babies is price of democracy
american style
he spread democracy in Iran when he brought back the Shah
in chile when he overthrew allende
in vietnam when he filled american bodies with heroin for the ride home
all tales told by an idiot
full of sound and fury
signifying nothing
fictive theory
remember
news ain't news
ain't nothing but the blues.
2/4/10
Friday, February 26, 2010
Mayor of Kabul
What madness is this
the wish the wash
cosmetic democracy
a vote a sham
dover real
blood bones coffins
soldiers love poppies
Taliban stopped poppy fields
Americans say let it flow let it flow
Afghans hooked
families babies
eat poppies for food
we crown warlords
we warlord
crusader style
european touch
obama Hamlet in the night
to send more to send less
where is the bliss
kill rebuild kill rebuild
new strategy
so bright
more blood more bones
for what
mayor of kabul
any al queda in afghanistan
eight years no al queda
interesting.
--Marvin X
11/2/09
What madness is this
the wish the wash
cosmetic democracy
a vote a sham
dover real
blood bones coffins
soldiers love poppies
Taliban stopped poppy fields
Americans say let it flow let it flow
Afghans hooked
families babies
eat poppies for food
we crown warlords
we warlord
crusader style
european touch
obama Hamlet in the night
to send more to send less
where is the bliss
kill rebuild kill rebuild
new strategy
so bright
more blood more bones
for what
mayor of kabul
any al queda in afghanistan
eight years no al queda
interesting.
--Marvin X
11/2/09
poems
by Marvin X
preface byLorenzo Thomas
1995
Review
Have spent the last few days (when not mourning with friends and family the passing of my family friend and mentor in Muslim feminism and Islamic work, Sharifa AlKhateeb, (may she dwell in Rahma), immersed in the work of Marvin X and amazed at his brilliance. This poet has been prolific since his first book of poems, Fly to Allah, (1969), right up to his most recent Love and War Poems (1995) and Land of My Daughters, 2005, not to mention his plays, which were produced (without royalties) in Black community theatres from the 1960s to the present, and essay collections such as In the Crazy House Called America, 2002, and Wish I Could Tell You The Truth, 2005.Marvin X was a prime shaper of the Black Arts Movement (1964-1970s) which is, among other things, the birthplace of modern Muslim American literature, and it begins with him. Well, Malik Shabazz and him. But while the Autobiography of Malcolm X is a touchstone of Muslim American culture, Marvin X and other Muslims in BAM were the emergence of a cultural expression of Black Power and Muslim thought inspired by Malcolm, who was, of course, ignited by the teachings and writings of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad. And that, taken all together, is what I see as the starting point of Muslim American literature. Then there are others, immigrant Muslims and white American Muslims and so forth, that follow.There are also antecedents, such as the letters of Africans enslaved in America. Maybe there is writing by Muslims in the Spanish and Portuguese era or earlier, but that requires archival research of a sort I am not going to be able to do. My interest is contemporary literature, and by literature I am more interested in poetry and fiction than memoir and non-fiction, although that is a flexible thing.I argue that it is time to call Muslim American literature a field, even though many of these writings can be and have been classified in other ways—studied under African American literature or to take the writings of immigrant Muslims, studied under South Asian ethnic literature or Arab American literature.With respect to Marvin X, I wonder why I am just now hearing about him—I read Malcolm when I was 12, I read Amiri Baraka and Sonia Sanchez and others from the BAM in college and graduate school—why is attention not given to his work in the same places I encountered these other authors? Declaring Muslim American literature as a field of study is valuable because recontextualizing it will add another layer of attention to his incredibly rich body of work.He deserves to be WAY better known than he is among Muslim Americans and generally, in the world of writing and the world at large. By we who are younger Muslim American poets, in particular, Marvin should be honored as our elder, one who is still kickin, still true to the word!Love and War Poems is wrenching and powerful, combining a powerful critique of America ("America downsizes like a cripple whore/won't retire/too greedy to sleep/too fat to rest") but also a critique of deadbeat dads and drug addicts (not sparing himself) and men who hate. "For the Men" is so Quranic poem it gave me chills with verses such as:for the men who honor wivesand the men who abuse themfor the men who winand the men who sinfor the men who love Godand the men who hatefor the men who are brothersand the men who are beasts"O Men, listen to the wise," the poet pleads:
there is no escapefor the men of this worldor the men of the next
He is sexist as all get out, in the way that is common for men of his generation and his radicalism, but he is refreshingly aware of that and working on it. It's just that the work isn't done and if that offends you to see a man in process and still using the 'b' word, look out. Speaking of the easily offended, he warns in his introduction that "life is often profane and obscene, such as the present condition of African American people." If you want pure and holy, he says, read the Quran and the Bible, because Marvin is talking about "the low down dirty truth." For all that, the poetry of Marvin X is like prayer, beauty-full of reverence and honor for Truth. "It is. it is. it is."A poem to his daughter Muhammida is a sweet mix of parental love and pride and fatherly freak-out at her sexuality and independence, ending humbly with:peace Muit's on youyo worldsister-girl
Other people don't get off so easy, including a certain "black joint chief of staff ass nigguh (kill 200,000 Muslims in Iraq)" in the sharply aimed poem "Free Me from My Freedom." (Mmm hmm, the 'n' word is all over the place in Marvin too.) Nature poem, wedding poem, depression poem, wake-up call poems, it's all here. Haiti, Rwanda, the Million Man March, Betsy Ross's maid, OJ, Rabin, Mumia Abu-Jamal, and other topics make it into this prophetically voiced collection of dissent poetry, so Islamic and so African American in its language and its themes, a book that will stand in its beauty long after the people mentioned in it pass. READ MARVIN X for RAMADAN!--Mohja Kahf Associate Professor / Dept. of English, Middle East & Islamic Studies, University of Arkansas-Fayetteville
Sunday, February 21, 2010
If I Were A Muslim in Good Standing
May 19, 1925
February 21, 1965
Brother Marvin,
I'm reading your poem today at the Malcolm X & Islam Today event this afternoon at the Schomburg Library in Harlem. I think it hits the spot on what we want to discuss at the forum.
We can rest assure that Brother Malcolm is proud of you today... carrying on his legacy of revolutionary spirituality for resistance and struggle.
--Sam Anderson
If I Were A Muslim In Good Standing
If I Were A Muslim In Good Standing
I would be like Prophet Muhammad
Elijah Muhammad
Malcolm X
I would fight oppression everywhere
I would liberate slaves
educate the poor
free the women
expel infidels from Muslim lands
fight quisling Muslim governments
not sleep til Jerusalem liberated
Palestine a free nation
send Zionists back to Europe
or into Mediterranean
if it took one hundred or two hundred years
like Saladin
I would slay them without remorse
Recite the Fatihah on pyramid of heads
expel heathen Christian armies from Iraq
Afghanistan, Pakistan, Yemen and Somalia
defend Iran's right to have Nukes
Why should Zionists have Nukes but not Iran
If Zionists are sane, so is Iran
If Zionists are sane, so North Korea
I would fight white supremacy in all forms
black face, Arab face, Chinese face
If I were a Muslim in good standing
I would liberate Mecca of slaves and selling pork
free the kingdom of Saudi Arabia of wicked primitive theology
Infecting virus of ignorance and reaction in Taliban Al Queda
and Sunni insurgents in Iraq
who have no intention to allow Shia rule except with obstruction
sabotage
I would salute Hamas and Hezbollah
for confronting Shaitan in all his masks
Salute Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt confronting Pharaoh Mubarak
Chief uncle abdullah (tom) of the Muslim world
I would stop domestic violence, honor killings, cutting of clitoris
put women in the front of the masje
d to pray with dignity
d to pray with dignitynot out in the alley
come in the back door like a jim crow negro
put the veil on men
show equality at all times
make earth paradise for those who truly believe
who fight oppression everywhere
who will not sleep til world is free
--Marvin X
--Marvin X
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Sweet Tea, Dirty Rice, New & Selected Poems by Marvin X
Poet and grandson
Jahmeel passing out
poster poem Black
History is World History
at his outdoor classroom,
14th and Broadway, Oakland
photo by Rita Daniels
Poet Queen
Phavia Khujichagulia
A Classic African
Warrior woman
"If you think I'm just a physical thing,
wait til you see the spiritual power I bring."
Contents
Prayer for Young Mothers
This
Yes, it's all there
Dreamtime
You are Spirit
What is Love?
When I Think About the Women In My Life
Letter to Dead Negroes in Cyberspace
We're in Love, but You Don't Know Me
Growing Up
Black History is World History
In My Solitude
A Day We Never Thought
Mama's Bones
Love is for the Beloved
Lesbian
A Poem for Unresolved Grief
Song for Reginald Madpoet
Again the Kora
Benazir Bhutto
Dis Ma Hair
Ancestors
Facing Mt. Kenya
Elegy for John D.
Who are these Jews
For Jerri Jackmon
When Lemmie Died
And then the end
If I Were A Muslim in Good Standing
Memorial Day, 2007
I am a veteran
Not of foreign battlefields
Like my father in World War I
My uncles in WWII
And Korea
Or my friends from Vietnam
And even the Congo “police action”
But veteran none the less
Exiled and jailed because I refused
To visit Vietnam as a running dog for imperialism
So I visited Canada, Mexico and BelizeThen Federal prison for a minute
But veteran I am of the war in the hood
The war of domestic colonialism and neo-colonialism
White supremacy in black face war
Fighting for black power that turned white
Or was always white as in the other white people
So war it was and is
Every day without end no RR no respite just war
For colors like kindergarten children war
For turf warriors don’t own and run when popo comes
War for drugs and guns and women
War for hatred jealousy
Dante got a scholarship but couldn’t get on the plane
The boyz in the hood met him on the block and jacked him
Relieved him of his gear shot him in the head because he could read
Play basketball had all the pretty girls a square
The boyz wanted him dead like themselves
Wanted him to have a shrine with liquor bottles and teddy bears
And candles
Wanted his mama and daddy to weep and mourn at the funeral
Like all the other moms and dads and uncle aunts cousins
Why should he make it out the war zone
The blood and broken bones of war in the hood
No veterans day no benefits no mental health sessions
No conversation who cares who wants to know about the dead
In the hood the warriors gone down in the ghetto night
We heard the Uzi at 3am and saw the body on the steps until 3 pm
When the coroner finally arrived as children passed from school
I am the veteran of ghetto wars of liberation that were aborted
And morphed into wars of self destruction
With drugs supplied from police vans
Guns diverted from the army base and sold 24/7 behind the Arab store.
Junior is 14 but the main arms merchant in the hood
He sells guns from his backpack
His daddy wants to know how he get all them guns
But Junior don’t tell cause he warrior
He’s lost more friends than I the elder
What can I tell him about death and blood and bones
He says he will get rich or die tryingBut life is for love not money
And if he lives he will learn.
If he makes it out the war zone to another world
Where they murder in suits and suites
And golf courses and yachts
if he makes it even beyond this world
He will learn that love is better than money
For he was once on the auction block and sold as a thing
For money, yes, for the love of money but not for love
And so his memory is short and absent of truth
The war in the hood has tricked him into the slave past
Like a programmed monkey he acts out the slave auction
The sale of himself on the corner with his homeys
Trying to pose cool in the war zone
I will tell him the truth and maybe one day it will hit him like a bullet
In the head
It will hit him multiple times in the brain until he awakens to the real battle
In the turf of his mind.
And he will stand tall and deliver himself to the altar of truth to be a witness
Along with his homeys
They will take charge of their posts
They will indeed claim their turf and it will be theirs forever
Not for a moment in the night
But in the day and in the tomorrowsAnd the war will be over
No more sorrow no more blood and bones
No more shrines on the corner with liquor bottles teddy bears and candles.
--Marvin X
25 May 2007
Brooklyn NY
Prayer
for Young MothersYoung mother hold on
we know you jumped life too soon
little baby with a baby
alone
man is gone
jail prison
other baby mama
another man holding his hand
hold on little mama
you have friends around the world
young girls trapped in the prison of their womb
babies asking questions minute by minute
some answers you are without
take your time
pace yourself
have a plan
for resurrection
you are the mighty the strong
don't give up give out give in
life is yours to win
keep the faith til you finish the race
in a moment there is time
to party look cute
work your mind
read a book
life ain't just lookin cute
don't be cute b
ut psychodrop sacred seeds in yo baby's mind
don't call him motherfucker all the time
we know you stressed
we know you angry
baby daddy wasn't true
yes he lied
when he said I love you
and how long did you know him
did you know his name
was it a one night stand
a booty call a strange man
no matter
you can come up
my doctor pregnant at 16
family cast her out
now she doctor at 32
baby boy 16
see what I mean
you can do it too
think it out plan it out
work it out
it's up to you
baby daddy can't save you
can't save himself
he baby too
just like you.
Don't go crazy
don't drug out
suicide in the night
keep the faith
you from a Great Race
people who suffered much
who cried many days
centuries
we came up from slavery of the body
you come up from slavery of the mind
get a grip
hold on to the rope of God
He's checkin yo every move
every step you take
you take one
He takes ten.
See you can't help but win.
When baby cry
give him some tea
cool him out
don't put him cross yo knee
don't be mean
cause you see baby daddy in his eyes lips nose
your son came through you but ain't you
ain't baby daddy either
he's on a mission of his own
into a world you may never see
be gentle yet firm
we know mother's love
unconditional
baby is same
he don't want food
clothes toys
he wants mama 24/7
you his heaven.
we know the world awaits him
with a frown not a smile
so be kind to this manchild.
He may bless you one day
beyond your imagination
he may be the one to save us
from oppression.
2/15/10
This
This is not about making money
selling books
ego or fame
women or children
Old age and sex
sin or some preacher
Some holy book or how one prays
a simple thing tears in eyes
working last nerve
standing when feet tired
Talking when silence is desire
showing love when hatred is behind smile
feeding poor when they ask
Like listening to old woman homeless story
of a mad negro and a mad African one after another
street children with grills in their mouths
telling stories of spirit world
the daily round
work unfinished
truth no matter what
a circle
This is not the personal
A lover lost in traffic
about the teacher but the student
who learns to stand to teach what he is taught
About comrades who will gather on the corner to save themselves
about the black the white the mixed the mad coming together to realize
life is a moment to seize or be lost
in eternity.
action and reaction
Passing the tone test in the presence of the beast.
getting through the day to fight tomorrow.
seeking knowledge above food, rent and pleasure.
Knowledge powers universe into ball
We throw into space and time until it explodes
a new world to see and wonder.
10/2/07
Yes, It's All There
Yes, it's all there
a time shared
a moment
a forevergrowing tension
Impatient
giving agape love
years of ignorance
love persists
ordeal by fire
rituals of life
myths bound
we know the drill
story
we live myth
extending time
infinite joy love happiness
it comes
we blow it
blind
unsure
a child in the garden
dreaming
acting out
what happened manhood/womanhoood training
we kill the lion no more
we kill each other ritual
crucifixion
resurrection
ascension.
--Marvin X
7-1-09
Dreamtime
Enough enough enough
of rain and pain sand and shore
enough bloody rivers flowing to sea
enough of you and me
moving breathing but going nowhere
enough living
yet not loving
standing still in the light
yet darkness all around
enough enough of ignorance
beating down wisdom of ages
sun in wind
stars at window
fear of the mothership enough
mothership the mind of men and women who think as one
move beyond space to better place
sun and time a dance moving the world
enough
talk to me right
no control no boss
no whip no pain
no demands that never work
I am me and you are you
we are one in the mothership of life
enough
your hair and mine
things don't matter
they are things
beyond time and space enough
to go beyond the moment called life
to a place called love
we spend the day and the life
trying not to go there
because we are already there
cannot escape love
even in death I will love you
cherish praise you
think of you honor you
squeeze you in my dreams
enough
will you be there when they crucify my Lord
will you stand or run in your fear and trembling
enough
run into the black hole and disappear
no movement like death in the morning
all is still and you walk because life is love
and love is life enough
to be alive yet not living
even speaking
because of yesterday morning pain
we hold even when today and tomorrow have come and gone
yet we hold pain
because it is better than loving
a kind of masturbation
to avoid the joy of sex in the morning
because we fear to speak the words I love you
silence becomes eternal
yet life is to be lived
not promised
not a thought
but lived in all its glory
for the pitiful moment we walk upon the sand and shore
knowing
the sand will slip into the tide
disappear somewhere
beyond sunset
enough
6/19/04
revised 2/14/10
You Are Spirit!
You are spirit
from your mother's womb
down from ancestors
tales of joy and love
body radiated
it does not matter
you are vessel carrying tales of joy, love
you are great great grandmother
grandfather too
you see for them, speak for them
do what they could not but knew you would
one day sure
if we struggled on.
You eat where they could not
sleep where they could not
visit places they could note
because of Jim Crow's ugly white hand
you are spirit
beyond your mother's womb
you slept in her bed until you were woman and beyond
until your husband came and you left.
elders prepared you with gifts of light and love
wisdom and joy
you read their letters, epic songs of daily round
you listened to all they said
absorbing for generations of deaf dumb and blind
mutilated with cancer
beyond repair
how long will you be here
how long can I love you
as spirit only
I cannot go inside you
can only touch your spirit
listen to tales of elders
the old South
going to cemetery
with messages for souls departed
from souls soon to come
at the cemetery
you talked with aunts, uncles, fathers, sons
daughters moms
long gone yet near
as the finger and hand
the pond and tree
well water and out house
you talked with them and they to you
and you to me
I am angel
sent to carry you over
brother spirit
to hold your hand
make you smile
as you journey on
beyond the river
to walk along the beach
looking out at the sea you will join
become one
I am beside you
holding your hand
pressing against you with love
not only for today
but eternity.
5/22/02
revised 2/14/10
What is Love?
What is love
only kisses hugs
what is loveonly meetings of the minds
what about times when minds do not meet
is love not present in the air in the blood of loving souls
too ignorant to know the test of love
the many ways it strives to be and not be
yet is always
and forever
not always tender
sometimes rough and sharp
like a razor cutting to the heart
love is pain
we take to grow
be strong again
tears in the night
alone again
we find ourselves
wondering
if love was even real
yet it was
if we see
if we look
beyond romantic notions of everything is cool always with love
but we know the blues of love
when we miss the wrords from lips so tender in truth
but we miss them
in haste
to be the authority on love
yet love
has beeen around since eternity and will stay
when lovers have gone away
it will stay
in spite of all the tears
the fights
the verbal bouts
even the put outs
and come backs
and gimme my keys
and why don't you call
and don't you still care
and why did you go
and do you reallly lover her or really love him
after all the time we shared
how could you do this to me
after all I did for you in the night
what is love
sometimes we must enjoy the hurt the pain
to grow
be wise again
this time
with God
in the center of things
but try
for love is precious
time is short
life must be lived with joy
somehow
through it all
let joy arise
take control of love.
--Marvin X
from Land of My Daughters, poems, 2005,
Black Bird Press, Berkeley
When I Think About the Women in My Life
When I think about the women in my life
there have been no women
only angels who blessed me with love
Flowing rivers freely
no measure to their love
cannot compare one love to another
How can one compare the angelic
This angel did that or that angel did this
I won’t compare mothers of my children
gifts they gave precious and sweet
I would never compare I
thank you for the fruit of your womb
I have seen the fruit of your womb flower and be great in the land
I am humbled
other angels shared so many years
My revolutionary sisters who battled with me
gave me guidance
When I was in the dark
Who talked of building cities while I wrote poems
my love for your visions and dreams
even I couldn’t see
You the nationalist I the poet
you showed me the way kicking and screaming
To sex workers
who showed me love in the night
I salute you
you told me I was too rough to be a pimp
try a little tenderness be more gentle you said
thank you for serving me in the night
For Marsha
who suffered my crack and died before I recovered
I know you see me now in Cherokee
where you said I needed to be
a place proper for a classic black man artist
An angel can dwell but in heaven
No sweeter angel ever came on God’s earth
miz brown eyes unconditional love
Berkeley Girl Smart and hot
willing to give beyond all
one of ten, ten in one
Pamela
in the Valley
like Khadijah financed my come up
Who worries more than I want to know
Relax my sister
few things in life of importance
Rumi told you it don’t matter
If you come to the garden
If you don’t come to the garden
It don’t matter
God is all and all is God
Nothing else matters.
Your fears are not my fears
so I won’t go there with you
There is no fear in love
there is only love in love
something else in love it is not love but fear
I do not go into the room where fear lives
If you come from the room of fear you will find love everlasting
Come from fear and see love
What you love belongs to you and you alone No one can take what God has granted
Hurriyah
warrior woman from my youth
revolutionary days dreams fears
A million years cannot tare me from your love
a million men
I am still yours
somebody better get a healing Up in here.
Celeste
angel from Berkeley
Watch those Berkeley girls
Hot and smart
So now you know me
Better act like you know me
I’m willing if you willing
If you willing to come to garden
but it don’t matter it don’t matter.
Let the people say Ache. Amen.
As-Salaam-Alaikum.
Letter to Dead Negroes
in Cyberspace
are you there
anybody home
on the moon
text me
while giving head
i'll know you're alive maybe
head ain't no real indication
the dead walk and chew gum
cell phone black berry i phone
you phone
me no phone
dropping out
send me esp
read my mind in black space
you so smart
send me a thought from east coast dirty south
i will know
don't worry bout how
keep your i phone in yo pocket
while making love please
are you the prez
what's so important
you ain't
so relax
make love wit da one ya wit
fo you be singin bout papers
a golf club upside yo head
po tiger
billion dollar nigguh
can't fuck in peace
don't call me
i don't want to hear
same conversation every day
can't change the subject to save yo life
nigguh please
beat a bata or djembe to me
that loud arrogant drum
talkin war talk
send me that message
or none at all. save your words
for some ignut nigguh wit no thoughts
no ideas no dreams
he just raps rhymes all day
talk with him or listen
to nursery rhymes
til you sleep
sleep little baby sleep.
1/9/10
We're In Love, But You Don't Know Me
You don't know me
you had a chance to know me
before we made love
you had a chance to know my mind
understand my fears
learn about issues
help me heal some things
but you wanted to make love
so you don't know me
we made love
but you don't know me
don't have a clue
think I'm a good d
or some good tight p
but you don't know me
and never will now
because you wanted to make love
you wanted to get a nut
we didn't even talk much
a little bit leading up to sex
I went along
I was horny too
but you don't know me
and I don't know you
now we never will
we blew it forever
because we made love
too fast too quick too soon
now you think you own me
I can't breathe
can't talk on the phone to friends
because we made love
because I gave you some d
you gave me some p
now I'm no longer human
I'm your love slave you my slave
we're in love
but you don't know me
we gonna get married
but you don't know me
we're gonna have children
but you don't know me
you're gonna beat my ass
but you don't know me
you're going to jail
but you don't know me
we're getting a divorce
but you don't know me
now we're friends
"Just Friends" Charlie Parker tune
But you don't know me
and never will.
Growing Up
Although I wanted it all the time
I didn't think the day would come
to wear my father's clothes
his fedora and Panamanian hats
double breasted suits
Stacey Adam shoes shined
at Perry's on Seventh Street
in West Oakland
I didn't think I would be a man like dad
though I wanted to be a man like dad
every son wants to be like dad
even when dad is mad.
and then I became him
in all his negrocities
his race man status
silence to children
misunderstanding of women
my mother especially
a real woman of her time
independent spiritual
a counselor to all
a business woman
beyond my father's understanding
yet he taught her many things
for a country girl
did I understand my wives
all beautiful intelligent aggressive
much like myself
how could i not understand myself
beyond gender but a spiritual thing
and then the decline
starched shirts a ring around the collar
suits a little piss stain there
a slowing down of public places
organizations associations
i became him
and then i was grandfather
no longer dad
on my knees with grandson
playing with toys, animals and men
trucks and buildings
counting books in english and swahili
one is umoja
grandson said don't save the world
play with me grandpa
and so i joined his world
he said at two years old
I know how to behave properly
i suppose his mother taught him to say this
he loves michael jackson on youtube
but not the thriller
no no no
smooth operator
billie jean
beat it
remember the time
not thriller
not michael dancing with those zombies
he runs from thriller
don't like those zombies
says he will shoot them
if they come to his mama's house
grandpa you stab them but i'm gonna shoot them zombies.
And so it is
son to father
father to grandfather
elder to ancestor.
such is the circle
seed to flower
flower withers
drops to earth
a seed is born.
--Marvin X
1/31/10
Black History is World History
Before the Earth was
I was
Before time was
I was
you found me not long ago
and called me Lucy
I was four million years old
I had my tools beside me
I am the first man
call me Adam
I walked the Nile from Congo to Delta
a 4,000 mile jog
BLACK HISTORY IS WORLD HISTORY
I lived in the land of Canaan
before Abraham, before Hebrew was born
I am Canaan, son of Ham
I laugh at Arabs and Jews
fighting over my land
I lived in Saba, Southern Arabia
I played in the Red Sea
dwelled on the Persian Gulf
I left my mark from Babylon to Timbuktu
When Babylon acted a fool, that was me
I was the fool
When Babylon fell, that was me I fell
BLACK HISTORY IS WORLD HISTORY I was the first European
call me Negrito and Grimaldi
I walked along the Mediterranean from Spain to Greece
Oh, Greece! Why did you kill Socrates?
Why did you give him the poison hemlock?
Who were the gods he introduced
corrupting the youth of Athens?
They were my gods, black gods from Africa
Oh, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle
Whose philosophy did you teach
that was Greek to the Greeks?
Pythagoras, where did you learn geometry?
Democritus, where did you study astronomy?
Solon and Lycurgus, where did you study law?
In Egypt, and Egypt is Africa
and Africa is me
I am the burnt face, the blameless Ethiopian
Homer told you about in the Iliad
Homer told you about Ulysses, too,a story he got from me.
BLACK HISTORY IS WORLD HISTORY
I am the first Chinese
China has my eyes
I am the Aboriginal Asian
Look for me in Viet Nam, Cambodia & Thailand
I am there, even today, black and beautiful
BLACK HISTORY IS WORLD HISTORY
I used to travel to America
long before Columbus
came to me asking for directions
Americo Vespucci on his voyage to America
saw me in the Atlantic
returning to Africa
America was my home
Before Aztec, Maya, Toltec, Inca & Olmec I was here
I came to Peru 20,000 years ago
I founded Mexico City
See my pyramids, see my cabeza colosal in Vera Cruz and Yucatan
that's me
I am the Mexican
for I am mixed with all men
and all men are mixed with me
I am the most just of men
I am the most peaceful
who loves peace day and night
Sometimes I let tyrants devour me
sometimes people falsely accuse me
sometimes people crucify me
but I am ever returning
I am eternal, I am universal
Africa is my home
Asia is my home
Americas is my home
BLACK HISTORY IS WORLD HISTORY
--Marvin X, circa 1980
In My Solitude
for The Duke
In loneliness
Where is the joy
Where is the room of friends
to hug, laugh, drink, dance
Emptiness abounds
a life lived fully til now
When the undertaker takes us all
dirt icing on the cake of our lives
Lived to the max
yet In the end the grave
Not the joy of friends in the night
lovers forgotten gone where
where are the whores Fillmore
gangsta brown
so we sit at the table alone
Devouring Hennessey and Bailey’s
A truth serum to proof my books
Why lie?
we do the daily drill
another funeral until we are numb of eulogies
When we know better
We know he was a dirty motherfucker
His wife called him such every day of their togetherness
we smile at the repast
Giggle at the come on of old lovers bout to bit the dust
Yet it is all good
This life this death All good
We did it our way no regrets
The wives
ungrateful bastard children
the good children we love so much so much
money spent foolishly on dope
books written for fools who never read a word
Yet claim to be experts on our style, theme, myth
Who are these frauds
wizards of academe
Revisionist liars
Careerists Agents in the night
Collaborators with colonialism
The elite who crossed the veil
from inside the secret chamber of blackness
Yet they failed to decipher Supreme Wisdom
Thank God Allah.
We out of here
thank God Allah.
--Marvin X 11/1/09
A Day We Never Thought
Inside chambers of our mind
We yearned freedom
Not knowing the fullness thereof
In centuries of debate and suffering
Of whip and breaking of bones
We never thought
No sliver of hope
No prayers for this
Surely wasted
We went about our day
Our madness couched in faith
Yet pain and doubt persisted Into the night
Children taught to hate
Fathers gone mad with drink
Mothers whoring to save the children
Yet we never thought
A day like this would come
a distant star
We cannot believe its twinkle
So far
years become centuries
Long and hard
We cannot bear this pain
This waiting in the sun
What shall we do
where shall we go
The night is upon us
Were we born into this night
This darkness of skin
Was this the meaning of our shame
To overcome all odds
To defeat the devil
celebrate our Lord
Keep the faith
We shall win the race
Like Dr. Clark taught
This is not for sprinters
Only long distance runners
Even this day is not the end
Just another beginning
A sign along the route
Letting us know
the best is yet to come
In the fullness of the moon
We shall dance the holy dance
Late into the night
It is only a moment
Precious and bold
Hard fought deserved
Like a meal after work
Yet we never thought
We would return to our father’s house
Our royal robes adorn
We dance into the new day
We know joy and rain
We know the pain of African men in power
Who want to be president for life
Who crush and break the people
Banish and burn alive all opposition
We know the West
We have such brutes in our midst
We know their terror
We know our sweat and blood at their hands
A day we never thought
Keeping eyes open
Ever on the alert
Do not depart our post
Relief shall come
No matter the doubt
The sun has never missed a day
So how come a day we never thought
Why did this day seem so impossible
Our suffering ancestors said bottom rail top
They sang sorrow songs
Knowing life is full
Resistance every day all day
Like the people of Gaza
We cannot be broken
And so this is a moment of joy
On the journey up the hill
the rock of Sisyphus in hand
We can make it to the top
a thought to action
A unified thrust smashing all doors
Leaping all walls
Crashing ceilings forever
This is who we are
Warriors of the king
smash fear
Resist every hurtful thing
Shoot it down fast
Keep on keepin’ on
A day we never thought.
--Marvin X
1.17.09
Mama's Bones
They want Mama's bones
no flesh no blood
just bones
dry
empty bones
they will be happy then
sucking her bones
wouldn't wash her feet
give something to eat
just bones
was all they cried
went to court over bones
didn't have time for Mama's love
tender touch
tales of old south
mourning husband
long gone
maybe she loved him
gave him four children
why wouldn't she still love him
think of him
wonder why he let white supremacy drown him in drink
and then came her son
the ghost of father
drunk
but caring
loving
faithful
just drunk
his father's pain
unresolved addiction to white supremacy oppression
The ghost of emmit jackson
Mama's bones remain
they scramble over them
fighting like mad dogs
bones dry
no meat
no blood.
Love is for the Beloved
Love is for the beloved
Selfless totally
Agent of joy
At one’s pleasure
Desire
Transcending self
Love is all there is
Like a good deal at the Flea Market
You can’t pass.
Gotta squeeze ya real tight.
Reasons.
self to divine self
Get real with love
Up from animal
monkey mind
Illusions
Listen to the whirlwind of Garvey
Motherplane is here for you
Better ax somebody,
Houston TX
Denial of self
Sweet submission
What is beyond giving all
We feed you for Allah’s pleasure only
We desire from you neither reward nor thanks.
Al Qur’an.
Lesbian
They won't talk to me
look at me
walk pass me
every daye
yes
straight ahead
no contact, no glance
no love
is it hatred
is it madness
sadness
insanity
what is it
this strange thing
a bundle of sexuality
nothing more
we assume
just nothingness
strange love
not beyond the sex
what love is this
not agape
some strange love
from the void
beyond normal and natural
is anyting there
anybody home
a loveless temple
a dildo of joy
yet hatred in the night for the real deal holyfield
what is this
this scam
this fake ritual of love
come
come
please come
and see the light of love
see the light of madness
but do yo thing
I am me and you are you
do yo thing and I do mine
to you your thing and to me mine
I do not do what you do
nor do you do what I do
to you your way
and to me mine.
But I ain't mad at cha.
love and peace.
2/1/10
A Poem for Unresolved Grief
When thy lover has gone to eternity
When touch is no longer
to feel in the night and in the day
The smile walk
sweetness of body
kissing of lips breasts thigh
When thy lover has gone
A day we never imagine
For love blinds us to things
yet the day came like a cloud of thunder rain
Pouring down upon our head
drowning us in sorrow of the worse kind
We cannot walk but listen each day
her voice message til we are taken away
we want to hear for the last time
the voice of love
For all the joy we shared
blending of two into one
thinking of two into one
When thy lover has gone
We are worse than dead
yet alive to suffer a pain no man can know
Who has never loved
a true love we say we want but never get
But we have lived what few ever know
the touch feel constant smile
When thy lover has gone
earth opens for the mate as well
no tears enough
No silent moments to get over matters of the heart
We are confined in the prison of life
and wish to leave for other worlds
to see if we can meet again
The one so kind so true
But life keeps us here bound like slave to master
Yet we yearn for paradise
for life is love and love has gone
desire is great and pain a mountain
We go to familiar places but are lost
cannot find the way home
We call a friend to pick us up
take us there
And there we sit in stupor
thinking of the days joy ruled our world
joy has gone never to return.
Lord help us through the day the night
It hurts to breathe to think
to see a picture of our lover
We try til night consumes us and we sleep
Hoping tomorrow will be a better day.
II
To heal the missing part of you
To feel again the love of yesterday
To realize what is gone cannot return
Flesh is frail
Spirit lives
In the day in the night
The challenge the task
To know we are spirit
Of the Great Spirit
We flow with the flow
Not the flesh,
body a vessel
Never put faith in flesh
Enjoy the moment
Treasure seconds of the day
Romantic hours of the night
physical shall pass
Then what shall we do
confounded
Perplexed
depressed
Stuck against the wall
sitting like a frog on a lily pad
Flow in the flow of the Great River
Sail down the Nile Niger Mighty Congo
Do not drown
reality is transitory
Except the metaphysical macrocosmic truth inside of you
Love continues into the ancestor tree
Beyond the pain the sorrow the lost
Tears in the night
Love can be found again
If we try if we stand
As Rumi taught
reeds in the reed bed stand alone
Yet all together
The reed flute is a song of mourning
A yearning to return
Through the door of no return
the flute plays the song of joy
A communal chant in the sun
Sing
the world will bless you
Praise you sing
For your song of sorrow is gone
The healing complete
Live again and love
Reach touch somebody
Breathe out the pain
Exhale the misery
Love is in the air wind
It blows your way
Listen to the wind
Listen to the sound of your flute.
--M
12/22/07
Song for Reginald Madpoet
And so my friend my comrade
a journey complete
We began in Black House
You with us
Eldridge, Amiri, Sonia, Askia, Ed
Bullins, Ethna, Avotcja,
Amina(pregnant with Obalaji),
Emory,
Sarah Fabio
West Coast BAM
(Black Arts Movement)
“Artistic freedom fighters”
Robeson said.
Consciousness of a Nation
You birthed
word magic
all magic word magic
the bird sings bass now
What was the sound of your lover
she found you in bed
Sleeping silently
Making your way home to eternity.
--Marvin X
5.20.08
Again the Kora
Kora is my soul
Ancient
lost
Middle Passage
I lived in the sound of Kora
A young warrior
training in the bush
manhood training
a mask
warrior dance
Fierce creatures terrify me
I slay the lion
bring it home on my back
I hear the Kora
like the sound of Bilal's Adhan
This the memory in my soul
Kora strings tear heart
healing
Soothing
Calming
transfixed
love dance
II
They knew Hajr by her man
And her man by Hajr
scientists questioned her
She questioned scientists.
Kora sounds
reuniting mind
good is in the room
universe still
motion.
Benazir Bhutto
1953-2007
Ya, Bhutto
Who are these people
Who kill fathers sons daughters
What God do they serve
What ghost in the night
Is there money enough
Power enough
Greed enough
Murder enough
To satisfy this beast
Who devours all in path
The children of the poor are not safe
Even children of the rich
This monster is vile
His teeth a wicked bite
Snatching like Godzilla
Ya, Bhutto
you came home preaching freedom
But there are those who cry freedom
But mean slavery
There are those who pray in the mosque
Then murder in the street
who crush the spirit
Who silence poets
their freedom songs
Who deny the humanity of women
What God is this
Who empowers these devils
with venom
Worse than the cobra’s sting
Ya Bhutto
What now in that sacred land
Shall your sons take the mantle
Shall the children cower in fear
Or face the guns bombs
Paid by the Mighty Beast
Who shouts democracy
But means slavery
Who allows dictators to crush opposition
To be president for life.
He discards his general uniform
To dawn the suit and tie of Shaitan
To claim the persona of the puppet
Who smiles in tears
Choking from hanging.
Ya, Bhutto,
you tried
To bring a better day
But demons must play their drama
Their dance in the night
will never put down their butcher knives
Never turn into Buddha heads.
More sacrifice
judges and lawyers are not enough
soldiers must accept flowers from the people
Not slaughter in the streets
There are not jails enough to confine freedom
The torture chambers may fill to overflow
freedom must rise.
Ya, Bhutto, your last the magic word: Allah.
Surely we are from Allah
And to Him we return.
12/28/07
Dis Ma Hair
i don’t have my own hair
i don’t know why
but it ain’t my own
weave
glue
stew
dye
fry
lock
what is natural to me
dis ma hair
i can do what i please
boy friend/girl friend
dis ma hair
i do this fa me not fa you
don’t give a fuck bout you
dis ma hair
I can weave it
Glue it
Lock it
Stock it
Conk it
Gerri curl it
Marcel it
Dis ma hair
Leave me lone
Dis ma hair
Blond wig cocked ace-duce
Dis ma hair
You can suck me fuck me
But dis ma hair
Call me Korean
European
Ghetto fab
Call me from the dead
But dis ma hair.
Revised 2008
Ancestors
I thought I was my father
I came to know him when my sons rejected me in life and death
For did I not reject him
He came to see Flowers
Wasn’t happy
What did I care
arrogant bastard
then I became him
looked like him
loved like him
pants pissy
drawers shitty
shirts dirty
but at least he danced
went clubbing
gambling
casinos casinos casinos
not for me
had my addictions
afflictions
worse than gambling
with life itself
and so am I myself
or I my father
grandfather
Johnny Murrill
Farmer
Worked the land
Picked cotton
Cut grapes
Fucked off the money
Chinatown Fresno
Busted in El Gato Negro
Granny sent uncle stan and mom to save grandpa
Lost in El Gato Negro
Worked all week in the field
Fucked it off in El Gato Negro
Uncle stan brought grandpa out to car
We sat in car on G Street before the underpass.
Ancestors
Granny
The woman I loved more than Mom
Granny’s hands were my hands
Soft, warm, loving, caring, showing, telling,
Said my brother Ollie was going to end up in the pen
Said it over and over that boy go end up in pen
And he did like Granny said
Whole life in the pen
Granny
Lovin you so much
Missin you so much
Great grandpa Ephraim
A man after my heart
A man who saw Abe Lincoln
Twenty years of slavery
Before it ended finally and forever
Epharim Murrill
Farmer foreman
Master of men and land
Epharim
Known throughout the central valley of cali
Madera, Fresno, Fowler, Handford, Lemoore,
Came same time as Col. Allensworth, 1909
What did you and Col. plot and plan
What did you know
What black towns did you see
What sovereignty what freedom did you know?
Did you know the neo nile valley
Did you know the green giant
Osiris
Did you know crucifixion?
Did Isis search for you in the mythology of pussy
Did she find you in the mythology of dick
Mythology of love
See the Song of Solomon
See Ecleastics
Tell us from the grave what you know
I did not know you great grandpa
Respected by blacks and whites
How did you do this
What manner of man
Tell me great grandpa
What wisdom did you know
What mythology what ritual?
--Marvin X
11/28/09
Facing Mt. Kenya
Lord let us pray
Great Ancestor save us this hour
We have shamed you in our wickedness
shedding of blood
Even into the Lord’s House we bring machetes
Slaughtering the innocent
Even the babies
Vote for me, I’ll set you free
And freedom is slavery of the worst kind
What evil spirit has come among us
What strange language this democracy
Brother against brother, tribe against tribe
Oh, Mt. Kenya
Who gave birth to us all
Raise your hands in mercy
We are lost in the forest
Cannot find the way home
Where is our king, where is our queen
What of manhood rites
rites for women
They did not teach us slaughter
Did we learn this at Oxford and Harvard
Help us, Mt. Kenya
This is not the way of the Great Spirit
Not even the way of the jungle beast
This madness for power and greed
Vote for me, I’ll set you free.
Freedom is worse than slavery
We refuse to share
transcend tribe for nation
We the great people
Who became little people
Not the tall Masai warriors
but pigmy of the forest
our heads fat with evil
no justice among the brotherhood
There is no Kwanza
No celebration of harvest
No seven principles of love
Only madness
From Kenya to Somalia
From Sudan to Congo
From Nigeria to Zimbabwe
From Fillmore to Harlem
New Orleans to Philly
Ancestors gather to wail
The people have lost their way
Aping Western man
Voting his way
People starve in the shanties
Politicians order fleets of Mercedes
The colonialists and their lackeys
Brought this chaos
They set borders and boundaries in days past
He taught the schools or filled them with tom teachers
He gave us his language his God
we have lived in misery ever since
At least during the colonial wars
We fought the good cause
But what is this today
Another Rwanda
We learn no lessons
Master no courses in civility
Make fools of history
At this hour let us bow down to. Mt. Kenya
Mt. Kilimanjaro
And cry out mercy and forgiveness
We have sinned like the Western man
We are white with evil
Paint our faces white and wade into Lake Victoria
Wade into the ocean
Cleanse the blood from our hands
Put down the machetes
We are the Great Nation
who gave birth to humanity
Let us return to the course the Ancestors taught
Let us find our way from the forest to the sea.
--M
1/3/08
O, Kora
Elegy for John D
O, Kora
Sound of my mother
singing from Heaven
Touching her special son
If he will do God’s will
He shall be successful.
O, Kora
sound of all the women
who loved unconditionally
the women I tried to love but failed
may they forgive me
Lord have mercy.
O, Kora
sound of women who speak without talking
Who take charge of their post
Mothers of Civilization
O, Kora
music to make a new world
Peaceful
joyful
everyday a holy day
gifts to those we love.
I mourn the passing of John Douimiba
Founder Black Men Conference, 1980
Oakland Auditorium
Praise be to John D.
We raise his name to heaven forever
coming in our midst
By way of Hausa
kidnapped to Brazil
Nat Turner’s people
North Carolina
Dallas Texas
no god but Allah in house.
extends North American African Islam
envisioned black president
Told us watch that boy Obama
last words watch that boy Obama
Our john the Baptist
John D
The Count in Malcolm’s world
Malcolm saw John organize Los Angles
Told John organize Nation of Islam, San Francisco.
Merchant Seaman
When he came back from across water
helped Aaron Ali, Bernard Cushmeer
expand mosque, SF.
John's plan organize block by block.
wanted secular organization
all things orbit black man in America.
witness Obama in the White House.
John smiling in heaven/paradise.
joyful to see 9/11
So happy
Never thought he’d see master hit in eye.
knocked in head on 9/11.
The Kora has stolen my heart
like a young woman in arms of old man
He will do flips over young girl
She refreshes his heart
like strings of Kora
Music from Heaven
Better than harp violin
command me Holy God Allah.
Young girl tells old man she lousy in bed.
Sing voices of ancestors
Pluck strings of Kora.
I am alive
I walk with rhythm and rhyme.
John helped set up the little manger
brothers and sisters raised from the dead....
I am overcome
I cannot continue this story.
My teacher is gone
I am like Rumi
who lost Shams of Tabriz
I am lost
I whirl and whirl and whirl
poetry flows
I whirl and sing whirl and sing.
I sing of love and God Allah
I sing of Buddha
Jesus
Krishna.
My teacher who taught me to act is gone
Learn how to act Marvin X
You know not how to act in theatre of life
Oh, John D.
Ayatollah of the Bay
Black Men’s Conference elder
15 years before MMM
We love you John
no matter from where you came
Hausland
Brazil
North Carolina
Dallas
no matter
Al Hamdulilah!
Master teacher
Philosopher/King, Terry Collins said
John/Yahya, life giver
my love and honor.
12.28.08
Who Are These Jews?
Who are these Jews
Vandals from Europe
Who know best how to murder, slaughter, bomb lie
Claiming holy land
Chosen of God they say
Lord let us pray
If they are his chosen
Jesus condemned the synagogue of Satan
Abraham’s children?
Where is the work of Abraham?
peace love faith
these are devils
Murderers liars
Usurpers Crusaders
from some place
Maybe outer space
Why did Hitler treat them so mean?
look how they act
in the holy land of God
Bombing to hell people with nothing
Half a century nothing
water food medicine
Hospitals mosques schools
smashed to smithereens
Who are these Jews?
God’s holy people
Seizing homes of others
Yet they come in peace
peace with your planes
Bombs, warships, tanks, soldiers
no security even with nukes
What will secure you
make you safe in the night
The Wall
American sycophants
media Zionists tell fairy tales on Fox,
CNN, NPR and Pacifica
Even Amy Goodman is not good
While you destroy the land of God
can the devil claim God’s land
may take a hundred years
like the Crusaders
You shall depart one day
Not back to Europe
but some place
Probably space
there you will challenge the sun
Or fight the dead moon
Somewhere is a place for you
Who claim shalom alaikum
Yet never Palestinians
land of their own
Return of refugees
your children pee in bed
Children of Gaza bombed
death in beds, schools,
Hospitals
Who are these Jews
Who are not Jews
the Synagogue of Satan?
You leave Gaza in jail
No exit no democracy
Even after their vote
Hamas is their choice
Leave them alone
Let them build their state their way
not yours
America’s
Egypt’s
Saudi Arabia’s
Jordan’s
Their way
Maybe rockets will be silent
Maybe then peace
Maybe then world will not tire of you
hate you
Will accept you with love
brotherhood.
be aware battles you win
it is not winning the war
There are powers greater than guns, planes,
Nukes, lies, phony claims, fake chosen ness
To hell with your God, your holy books
Myths made in America
white house you rule
Made in Jewyork
Your home away from home
Past time for Palestinian State
see the world wearing Kafiyas
scarf of suffering people
scarf of blood and tears
Betrayed by leaders who steal
dine in Europe
who sell out to Satan in the night
refugee camps half a century
Leaders who must be lead
since they are blind
Who are these Jews?
For Jerri Jackmon
With love honor thee
Jerri
Wife of my
Son
Mother of Jordan and Jazmin
Jerri
We love you
honor you
miss you
Yet you are here
Feeling, touching, speaking, loving
Wonderful you
Stepping to front of line with mister big
Blessing him
Jordan and Jazmin
Praise be to God
There is life after death
pain hurt misery
No closure ever
false construction
Silent suffering
Mountains of time
Fading love
Yet love never moves sways
We love you Jerri
In our prayers libations
You are there
In the water in the wine
Your energy/spirit
of the Jackmon
Family
demanding you are Jackmon too
we love you for this Jerri
We see you tall strong
Fighting frailties
We see you
Matching Mr. Big
Loving tenderly
mother, lover, wife
Church woman
Commanding directing
Jerri take us on
Into the Upper Room.
11.1.08
When Lemmie Died
end of an era
beginning of another
A horrible time
worst of times
Without food money
Worldwide
In the hood
No rice and beans
No money gas
No mortgage
rent
And Lemmie died
Soldier of misfortune
natural born dud
Born in Tennnessee
Raised in Muncie
Then San Francisco
State College/ Univeristy
Post Office
Cutting of penis on the job
shacked with cousin Darlene Turner
she said he would never be a man at the Post Office.
became teacher
black women made him retire early.
Lemmie universal
French woman baby
He returned
apartment with Marvin X
Shared ho’s.
Lemmie
My man
miss you brother
Soldier
Natural born dude
army said
But Lemmie
My man
My brother
showed me love
Lemmie
Keep us a room in eternity.
4/26/08
And then the end
And then the end
No more sin
Righteousness no matter
new age
Innocence ignorance not bliss
terror in the night and day
Not knowing will not prevail
Only doing seeking will save
Multitudes running amuck
Inches from tsunami then we drown
Consumed by saliva
Little did we know
time told us show was over
We lingered until dawn
then we sank
bottomless pit welcomed us home
we are kind to each other
On the love boat south
Without end or port
Into the emptiness of our mind
dread time foretold
we sleept dreaming of nothingness
Pull comforter over head
Afraid of dark and light
we have become this thing
bundle of fear confounded by it all
As if we weren’t told
As if we didn’t know and couldn’t see
Yet we walked each day
leaves falling into snow
sound of trumpets
howl of wolves
we walked over precipice
children held our hand until limp
into the chasm with us
even family was not enough
lovers or friends or buddies of childhood
all in the chasm
searching for fire wood in darkness.
If I Were A Muslim In Good Standing
If I Were A Muslim In Good Standing
I would be like Prophet Muhammad
I would fight oppression everywhere
I would liberate the slaves educate the poor free the women
expel the infidels from Muslim lands
I would fight quisling Muslim governments
not sleep until Jerusalem is liberated
Palestine a free nation
send the Zionists back to Europe or into the Mediterranean
unless they surrendered all lands taken from Palestinians
Return all refugees
if it took one hundred or two hundred years for the new Crusaders to depart
like Saladin I would slay them without remorse
Like the Moors in Spain
Recite the Fatihah on a pyramid of their heads
I would expel the heathen Christian armies from Iraq Afghanistan, Pakistan, Yemen and Somalia
I would defend Iran's right to have Nukes
Why should the Zionists have Nukes but not Iranians
If the Zionists are sane, so are Iranians
If the Zionists are human beings, so are Iranians
I would fight white supremacy in all its forms
even in black face, Arab face, Chinese face
If I were a Muslim in good standing I would liberate Mecca of slaves and selling pork
free the kingdom of Arabia of wickedness and primitive theology
Infecting the Taliban Al Queda and Sunni insurgents in Iraq
who have no intention to allow Shia Muslims to rule without obstruction and sabotage
I would salute Hamas and Hezbollah for confronting Shaitan in all his masks
I would support the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and denounce Pharaoh Mubarak as Uncle Abdullah (tom) a boot licking running dog for Zionists and Crusaders
I would stop honor killings and put women in the front of the masjed to pray
stop the cutting of clitoris
let the women enjoy themselves
put the veil on men and show equality at all times
I would make earth a paradise for those who truly believe
who fight oppression everywhere and will not sleep til the world is free.
--Marvin X (El Muhajir) 2.18.10
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