Preview #6, Journal of Pan African Studies, Poetry Issue
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 Black Arts Movement South. A prolific author, poet, essayist, historian, journalist, teacher, he resides in New Orleans, facilitates a list-serve for writers.
Louis Reyes Rivera, Brooklyn, New York
I care about
whichever word
I care about whichever word
is used like grass
or turned to twist
& make a victim look like killer
or heard to sing like daybreak
smelling...
An octorose of warmth
blending
into
nightshed
deep
a dance of waves
the sun weaves in
an intricate of light
of gentle ripples
warmly dancing
weaving waves
of shadelit haze
like the sea ebbing into shore.
Even in the repetition
a word
means just as much to me
as morning's mist to dawn
the ease with which
night
moves
out
for daylight rays
like the quick shot from a gun
or loosely lipping attitude
that can just as easily
grit
or
grin
or smile right back
in hard soft sounds
like a kitten's tender touch
a curious tiny paw wanting
but to be believed.
I like the word, determination,
a Black child learning how to read
the wonder of a family intact,
a puertorrican
grasping & digging
into our own past... becoming Borinqueño
studying Betances
Belvis
Pachin Marin
listening to Malcolm
hard
intent
& full of care
concern
in a loving nudge of words
penetrating
deep inside the heart of thought
with Yes! Of course!
We got no choice
but grow!
& Be!
& Stand Up, Child...
Come & Change this world
with strength & perseverance
Come & Grace this Earth
with your own sense longing
like the octorose of warmth
u
n
f
o
l
d
i
n
g
winglike petals unto dawn
to soar, Yes, flying!
I like to hear Rashidah speak
I like to watch Zizwe's walk
the happenstance of Sekou's song
the lilting lyric in Safiya's sway
(& in case you do not know,
have never heard or watched them work:
Rashidah is an Ismaili,
a misspelled word
from the ink of census takers
conquering her land;
Zizwe, a child returned
from whence once stole,
Ngafua now an African at war;
Sekou but a blue lake
reclaiming lineage to Sundiata
undercoat guerilla born;
Safiya, black pearl caught
in the devil's hand
way back when Hendersons,
cut loose from prison cells,
sailed across atlantic gates
to rape the earth into a world
where poets have no chance.)
Despite it all, they sing & work,
they write & read,
they care,
get drunk
or pray,
while few will publish them their due,
fewer still will plant their books
into your hands,
your own calluses of soil
digging
deep
into
self
gripping all their pages,
holding them as dearly as you would
an octorose of warmth.
& yes
I like the word of action true
the sound of gunfire busting through
the doors
that hold back freedom blue
given
how
our own young Blackfolk
get cornered into hating what to do like Larry Davis
cracking through
the wall of crack
that would diffuse
whatever life a child could cling to/
cornered
in a vacuum of tenements jammed in despair
surrounded by a dozen cops
a dozen watchful dogs
hunting those who break
the must
& misty stink of deprivation
surrounded by a dozen cops
alone
except for rifle
shotgun
millimeter
automatic in his hand
bursting through the door
this five foot four
Davis, Larry
hurls across a rooftop
shooting
wounding
striking out against
this hateful passion
cold city bred
escaping into freedom's scent
like the octorose of warmth
s
p
r
e
a
d
i
n
g
w i d e its span of wings
& soaring, Yes,
soaring high & bleeding from the heart
of nothing
wanting
something
in the anywake
of every word
struggling for the worth of hope that comes at dawn.
--Louis Reyes Rivera
Louis Reyes Rivera
Known as the Janitor of History, poet/essayist Louis Reyes Rivera has been s
tudying his craft since 1960 and teaching it since 1969. The recipient of over 20 awards, he has assisted in the publication of well over 200 books, including John Oliver Killens' Great Black Russian, Adal Maldonado's Portraits of the Puerto Rican Experience, Bum Rush The Page: A Def Poetry Jam, The Bandana Republic, and his own award-winning Scattered Scripture. Considered a necessary bridge between the African and Latino American communities, Rivera has taught Pan-African, African-American, Caribbean and Puerto Rican literature and history in colleges and in community centers. Currently, he conducts a Writers Workshop at Sistas' Place, in Brooklyn, and continues to work with Jazz bands, including Ahmed Abdullah's Diaspora. He can be heard every Thursday on WBAI (99.5 FM; streamed at www.wbai.org), hosting the weekly talk show, Perspective.
Phavia Kujichagulia, Oakland CA
YO YO YO:
AUSTRALOPITHECUS AFRENSIS
yo…yo…yo…in case you didn’t know
I’m a woman, a mother, dred daughta, soul lover
sweet solid chocolate rock of Jah womanhood
money in the bank, soul sistah
knock on wood it’s all good
after the years of tears
the fears…the lies
the cries
somebody better recognize
(somebody better recognize)
duck and dodge, comin’ up like God
sistahs surviving the odds
so drop the sexist hype
stop the stereotypes
cause I’m an ebony Goddess
Queen mother doing it right
you’ve got to fight to survive
the things you see on t.v.
you can believe in the media hype
or you can believe in me
‘cause if you believe
I’m just a physical thing
then you’ll never see
the spiritual power that I bring
believe I’m the Eve to the Garden of Eden
know that I’m the virgin that gave birth to Jesus
Australopithecus Afrensis
since 3.5 million B.C.E.
everybody on the planet had to come through me
from the Olduvia Gorge human life was born
from the thighs of momma Africa’s
Great Rift Valley
so take a tally, take notes
whatever it takes to rock your boat
but just know
that I’m the Eve to the Garden of Eden
know
that I’m the virgin that gave birth to Jesus
I’m the first … I’m the last
I’m the present to your past
Sumerian princess from Kemet’s Nile
Babylonian, Dravidian, Olmec child
ire daughta gave birth to one human race
that’s what you see upon I & I face
though the media tries to disguise my fame
I’m the mother of justice
Ma’at is my name
so no more blame
no more shame
no more pain
no more games
yo…yo…yo…in case you didn’t know
I’m a woman, a mother, dred daughta, soul lover
sweet solid chocolate rock of Jah womanhood
money in the bank, soul sistah
knock on wood it’s all good
after the years of tears
the fears…the lies
the cries
somebody better recognize
(somebody better recognize)
duck and dodge, comin’ up like God
sistahs surviving the odds
so drop the sexist hype
stop the stereotypes
cause I’m an ebony Goddess
Queen mother comin’ up right
you’ve got to fight to survive
the things you see on t.v.
you can believe in the media hype
or you can believe in me
‘cause if you believe I’m just a physical thing
then you’ll never see the spiritual power that I bring
I said… if you believe I’m just a physical thing
then you’ll never see the spiritual power that I bring
yo…yo…yo…
just thought you ought to know
--Phavia Kujichagulia
Phavia is a well loved poet, griot, musician, dancer, historian in the Bay Area.She stole the show at the Kings and Queens of Black Consciousness concert at San Francisco State University, produced by Marvin X, April 1, 2001. As we speak, she is releasing a book on racism and white supremacy.
No comments:
Post a Comment