Marvin X (the Human Earthquake) coming to Seatte WA soon

If you are Sleepless in Seattle, better rest before the Human Earthquake arrives to git down fada git down! Marvin X has been invited to drop science on the conscious  and unconscious community in Seattle.

The poet/teacher hasn't been to Seattle since 1995 when he sought refuge in the Northwest after his partner made her transition. He began writing his autobiography Somethin' Proper during his stay. "I was treated royally in Seattle by both Blacks and Whites. I will never forget how white women cried after reading my poster poem For the Women. They wanted to know how a man could write such a poem. I told them black women suffered abuse at my hands so I could see the light and become more sensitive to the feminine gender. Also, seeing my three daughters come into womanhood was a game changer for me. I call my attitudinal healing a Pauline conversion, similar to how Saul turned into Paul on the road to Damascus."

Left to right: Amira, Nefertiti,  Muhammida and dad, Marvin X

Marvin X is tentatively scheduled to read and dialogue sometime in mid March. Details are being finalized. For more information, call Hakim Trotter at 206-856-3024.

I Am American


I am American
no citizen of the United States
gave that up years ago
in Toronto
protesting US in Vietnam
exiled in Canada
underground to Chicago, Harlem
crucified at Fresno State University
Angela Davis was on the cross too  UCLA, 1969

I am American
exiled a second time in Mexico City
with exiled Americans from the Americas
Cuba, Dominican Republic, Venezuela, Columbia, Guatemala, El Salvador, Brazil
they call me Pele Pele Pele on the streets of Mexico City
want to touch my hair for good luck

I am American
Mexico City founded by Africans
now exiled by president for life regimes
young men of resistance
women too, wife is with me
young men
put aboard planes that landed in Chapultepec Park
cerca de Paseo de Reforma
we live near the park circa de Metro
lovers in the park on Sundays
we are in love
she is pregnant with Nefertiti
I am American
cannot speak with my brothers in exile
Jorge from Choco, Columbia
Enrique from Venezuela
I speak Spanish pochito
muy pochito
no Portuguese
say Poder Negro to my revolutionary amigos.
They comprende
I give black power salute

I am American
flee Mexico City for Belize
through Yucatan, Vera Cruz, Merida, Chetumal
land of Yanga el Africano Mexicano
Yanga so bad the Spanish gave him a town
San Lorenzo de los Negroes
down in Vera Cruz
I flee against advice of Elizabeth Catlett Mora
revolutionary artist
begged me not to go
negroes in raw colonialism
not neo-colonialism she said

I am American
young hard headed
easy to lead in the wrong direction
hard to lead in the right direction

Elijah said

I am American
I want to hear English
tired of Spanish
basta ya!
I want to see los Negroes
in Belize
esclavos pero Negroes
yo esclavo tambien
I am American

Americas is my land
all of it
before Columbus
Before Maya Aztec Incas Olmec
I was here
I came by canoe from Ghana, Mali, Songhay
land of Sonni Ali, Askia the Great
bling bling of Mansa Musa
a thousand camels with gold on his haj to Mecca

I am American
in Belize los Negroes speak English
pero muy rapido pero English
Espanol tambien
I am American
Norte Americano Africano
Simon Bolivar Americano
Simon Simon Simon

I am American
North Central South American
Caribbean American
I am American
from Toronto, Montreal
to Georgetown, Caracas

Slums of Mexico City are mine
shacks of Belize
madness of Kingston
cocaine of Port of Spain
yes, Trinidad
land of C. Eric Williams
victim of Capitalism and Slavery
Guyana is mine
interviewed PM Burnham at his residence
Africans with AK47s at his gate
genocide of Jonestown
assassination of Dr. Walter Rodney
how can we forgive the reactionaries
who never turn into Buddha heads
who never put down their butcher knives

Mao said

I am American
in Belize I join the revolution of Evan X and Shabazz
on trial for sedition
government is games old people play they say
this sedition
covered trial for Muhammad Speaks
this was my sin
1970 Wikileaks
emperor no clothes
people no clothes
no water no electricity no toilet
no nothing
brothers want to know why I left America with no gold
they want to go to American for gold
why did I leave without gold
what is America but gold
nothing else but gold
slaves and gold

I am American
people rich in Belize
poor yet rich
joy and peace, sun and land
gardens of paradise
islands in the sun
I live on Gales Point
a little shack with no water no electricity no bathroom
but happy
wife is pregnant and happy
except for sand flies
mosquitoes love her blood
bathe in the river
out house on the other side of the island
catfish collect waste
people do not swim on that side of the island
do not eat catfish

I am American
people beg me teach black power
no check with village headman

drunk man sings outside my house
day comin ta git ya in da mornin
been down here teachin dat black power
day comin to get ya in da mornin, boy

wife and I laugh
wish dat drunk nigguh git way from our door
they come in the morning

I am American
on boat into the city
five hour ride through jungle
police on boat
under arrest
don't know it
police undercover
don't say nothing
get to the city
he don't say nothing
police come to friends house
call me out
I grab rifle
put it down
surrender
mulatto greets me outside
under arrest
go to Ministry of Home Affairs
Minister reads deportation order
presence not beneficial to welfare of the British Colony
shall be deported to United States next plane to Miami
leaving at 4pm.
Until then you are under arrest.
Mulatto takes me to police station
sit down. No cell, no handcuffs.
police gather around me
circle of police
what's up.
broder man, teach black power!
I am American

victim of slave system
police victims too
teach us broder man.
Marcus Garvey came 1923
told you get Queen England off yo walls.
1970 you still got white bitch on yo walls.
Get bitch off yo walls!
police crack up
you all ite broder man

point uncle tom police
black man white heart
black man white heart!
I am American

Plane come Mulatto push me onto the plane. refused to leave without my wife. The plane door slammed. Fly south to Tegucigalpa, Spanish Honduras.
ask for asylum . Espera un momento, Negro!
marched back onto the plane.

land in Miami. gentlemen greet me at the airport. Escort me to Dade County Jail. put in a pit with dead, deaf dumb and blind negroes.
call them brother.
we ain't yo brother, nigguh. I am silent.
gentlemen transfer me to Miami City jail, Federal facility.
White Cuban drug dealers greet me. What you want, my brother.
need money, food? We send outfood to the restaurant, what you want.

I am American
hamburger, fries milkshake!
No problema, hermano!
give me money to call wife.
She home in America.

I am American
Cubans say whatever you need let us know.
I am American
like Simon Bolivar
like Che
like Fidel
Toussaint
like Nat Turner
Grabriel Prosser
Harriet Tubman
Like Garvey
Elijah
Malcolm
Stokely (Kwame Toure)
CLR James
Padmore
Chavez
Morales

I am American.
--Marvin X1/29/11

Memorial Day, 2007

I am a veteran
Not of foreign battlefields
Like my father in world war one
My uncles in world war two
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 Belize
Then 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 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
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 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

This poem appears in the anthology Stand Our Ground, dedicated to Trayvon

Martin and Marissa Alexander, edited by Ewuare X. Osayande.

Chained and Bound
by Marvin X
A song based on how prisoners are brought to federal court “chained and bound”

You got me chained and bound
But you can’t keep me down
I was born to be free
To have my liberty
By any means necessary

Our time has come
Our day is here
Black man stand
Have no fear
Dare to struggle
Dare to win
Then the world
Will be ours again
You got me chained and bound
But you can’t keep me down.

The devil is a paper tiger
He rules with the gun
But there will be no law and order
Until black justice is done
You got me chained and bound
But you can’t keep me down.

Come, My Brothers, seize the time
No more dope, no more wine
No no no/no no no — No!
You got me chained and bound
But you can’t keep me down
Come, My Brothers, break the chains
There can be no peace til freedom reigns

You got me chained and bound
But you can’t keep me down
No, no no/no no no — No!
--Marvin X

from Woman, Man's Best Friend, poems,
proverbs, parables, lyrics, Black Bird Press, 1972