Journal of Pan African Studies
Poetry Issue,
December 2010
Guest Editor, Marvin X
Senior Editor,
Itibari M. Zulu
Fritz Pointer, Oakland CA
Mixed Love
Dedicated to Lovell Mi
xon
Lovell Mixon smoked 4 pigs in Oakland shootout a short time after they killed Oscar Grant .Dr. Fritz Pointer said the suffering people of Oakland enjoyed an obscene pride in his actions after decades of police abuse, in spite of the
Black Panther Party’s valiant resistance during the 60s.
You had an avtomat Kalashnikova of ’47?
Assembled in minutes by children in the old USSR.
Kalashnikov and Heston are beaming with obscene pride:
In the efficiency of the automatic
In the accuracy of your aim
In hitting the Pig’s Eye
Four in a row!
You could have surrendered like Amadou Diallo
Raised your hands
Taken sixteen
And nothing in your “cold dead hands”
Except a wallet!
Or, heard the bells, like Sean Bell
“Made it to church on time”
Your wedding day now a funeral day
And nothing in your “cold dead hands”
Nothing!
Or, lay face down, a boot on your neck like Oscar Grant
And get it in the back
And be blamed
And nothing in your “cold dead hands”
Cuffed in steel.
You had an AK-47!
Easy to use
Easy to transport
Easy to kill
The AK has caused more deaths
Than Hiroshima
Than Nagasaki
Than HIV
Than the bubonic plague
Than malaria
Than all earthquakes
Than anything organic or synthetic, metal or chemical.
Kalashnikov’s automatic:
Won’t jam when dirty or wet
Has a feather trigger a child can pull
“Can turn a monkey into a combatant”
There’s pride in that…obscene pride
In the accuracy of a killer
The rehearsal on man-sized silhouettes
Dark shadows
The outline of a person
The will to kill.
The vulgar pride in:
The ABM
The drone
The nuke.
Hitting the pig’s eye.
All you needed was the will
The will to kill
The will to be free
Simply…Free
Not ideologically
Not intellectually
Not romantically
Not consciously
Not politically
Like Nat Turner
Like Malcolm X
Like Steve Biko
Like Fred Hampton
Not like that…simply
Not behind bars.
The repulsive, indecent respect some pay:
To the monsters created
To vindicate a people’s historical abuse
Surprised that the monsters
Dutifully designed
Consciously created
Meticulously molded
For the cities of Iraq
For the cities of Afghanistan
For the cities of America
Frankensteinesque
Should act other than
Monsteresque.
Is Fanon correct?
Is such violence redemptive?
Is it cleansing?
Is it a rebirth?
For a microsecond
For this generation
The score was evened.
Four pig’s eyes in a row!
Wow! How sick! This obscene pride.
--Fritz Pointer
17 April 2009
Fritz Pointer, Oakland, California, is a graduate of Creighton University (B.A.-English) UCLA (M.A. - African History) and U. of Wisconsin, Madison (M.A. - African Literature). He has taught African Studies and English at Merritt College (Oakland, CA.) Golden Gate University (San Francisco, CA) Humboldt State University (Arcata, CA.), Luther College (Decorah, Iowa), and is presently Chair of the Department of English at Contra Costa College (San Pablo, CA). He is the author of "A Passion to Liberate: Alex LaGuma's South Africa." His wife, Liziwe Kunene, born in Cape Town, South Africa, is Dean of Students at California College of Arts and Crafts (Oakland, CA). They have four children: Thiyane, Somori, Nandi and Shegun. Two granddaughters: Jadah (14) and Selina (2). His sisters are the internationally known Pointer Sisters. His brother, Aaron, is the last professional baseball player to hit .400 for a season and a retired NFL official.
Sam Hamod, Princeton, New Jersey
All We Ask
(For Our Brothers and Sisters in Somalia, Palestine, Pakistan, Iraq and Afghanistan)
we want very little
a sip of fresh water, a small piece of bread,
perhaps an olive again, if the trees have not been smashed,
just a little peace,
a door my key will fit, so I can go home,
quiet, so there are no more drones, no rockets,
and when you come by, in your heavily laden uniforms,
every now and then
a smile, and from Allah,
a bit of sunshine, even some rain to help our parched trees,
rain as fresh water for our children,
just small things, not much
a bit of fresh air, without the smell of gunfire, rockets or phosphorous,
just a sky clear of jets and rockets, so that we may see
a sun that wanders off late in the afternoon
and a moon that whispers,
we shall sleep now,
praying, tomorrow will be a better day
c: sam hamod,
oct.2, 2010
Sam Hamod founded and edited 3rd World News in Washington, DC in the 80s; has been nominated for Pulitzer Prize in Poetry twice, but, as Ishmael Reed said, "He's one of the best poets in America, but he won't be recognized as that because he's an Arab Muslim." He has published 12 books of poems, and has 3 more in the pipeline; Hamod also is the only American born person to be the Director of The Islamic Center in Wash, DC. He admires the work of Ishmael Reed and Marvin X.
Sam is considered one of the fathers of Muslim American literature, along with Marvin X, Askia Toure, Amiri Baraka, Sonia Sanchez and others in the Black Arts Movement, although Sam in not a North American African. See Dr. Mohja Kahf on Muslim American literature below. Some of these poets have moved beyond religion, toward spirituality and other ideologies, but for a moment in the 60s, they expressed the Islamic ideology, whether Nation of Islam, Sunni, Sufi or a combination thereof, thus, according to Dr. Mohja Kahf, they laid the foundation for Muslim American literature: poetry, plays, novels, essays..
Kola Boof, Southern California
Esther Rolle
(a poem in memory of the pioneering
black actress)
When you die...come back to life
So we can laugh and cry and curse the living!
O! I want to curse anything.
Drab concrete sky leaving me with too many songs.
Sadness leaves, because I forget the words.
The words are so many, I just wrinkle
up and laugh and squeeze my hurting hands.
I remember being young and frisky.
I remember being a creamy hot thing.
I remember the lemony days and hasty dreamy nights
that snuck away with the words.
Stole away.
The one song I remember, the one I loved
went:
"when you die...come back to life."
--Kola Boof
Kola Boof was born in the Sudan, adopted and raised in Washington DC. She is one of our leading and best selling black novelists.
devorah m ajor, San Francisco CA
city scat
we come to this city
of concrete, brick
steel and toil
country people
knowing the earth
sea faring people
reading the tides
gambling people
holding jokers and spades
we come to this city
hard laughin’
weep sob wailin’
prayin’ celebratin’ people
bending and sweating
we come to
this hiss crack
slap snap
siren whirl
holler
electric zip
and burn
city
rounding
bustling corners
banging our heads
against destiny
and crumbling
brick walls of confusion
we come to this city
that can cage us
enrage us
deny us
revile us
turn us
from friends and family
into prey and predator
we come to this city
this hip howl
she bop
da he bop
da we bop
bang clang
swinging city
and we name it ours
--devorah major
devorah major is the first North American African poet laureate of San Francisco. She is a novelist, poet, essayist and professor at the California College of Arts.
Letters to the Editor
From: rudolph lewis
To: Marvin X
Sent: Mon, October 4, 2010 4:14:02 PM
Subject: RE: Preview #4: Journal of Pan African Studies Poetry Issue, deadline extended to October 15 for submissions
Very, very good, Marvin!!! You will have an excellent collection of poetry from some of the best poets in America. I predict that this will be the best selection of poems that any Guest Editor has ever put together.
Long Live the Black Arts Movement! Long live the struggle of Black poets to make a New America, one that Langston would admire and cheer! Hurray! Hurrah! O, Holy Days!
Loving you madly, Rudy
From Amiri Baraka to Editor:
Some very good woik, Boi!!
AB
******
From :Nykhala Coston
Hi,
Thanks for sending the poetic mission for this year. It has opened my eyes to another way of looking at poetry and I am excited to see the finished copy when it comes out.
Sincerely,
Nykhala Coston
Deadline extended to October 15, 2010. Send submissions to jmarvinx@yahoo.com
Format: MS word, include brief bio and pic.
--Marvin X, Guest Editor
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