Now some folks may call me a radical
or remind me that at best I’m not practical
to keep pointing out what everyone should know
but we’re still looking for justice
while other folks devise ways to bust us
so we spend more time in court than McEnroe
Because when the time for freedom came
folks started feeling only the surface had changed
instead of celebrating ‘Free at last!’
’Cause all the racists had said ‘Okay’
because equality can work both ways
and they promptly started kicking poor white folk’s ass
How can the issue be race
when every citizen can take his or her case
and be heard by a jury of their peers?
meanwhile I’m listening to the rundown
about four young brothers who was gunned down
by some psycho with imaginary fears
When you get down to the real nitty-gritty
you’re on a subway in New York City
and Bernhard, the gunman, shows upon the set
and he decides these four young Blacks
are about to launch an attack
though they hadn’t attacked nobody yet
Regardless, Bernie makes his play
and he’s like Eastwood saying ‘Make my fuckin’ day!’ and
in self-defense he even shoots someone wounded on the floor.
then he confesses on video tape,
but since he was in an ‘agitated state’
he’s acquitted and let out to shoot some more
Now does this mean every sister and brother
Mexican, Indian, Oriental or other
won’t ever see homicide put them behind bars?
Because it legitimately terrifies me
to know that the next sumbitch I see
might be armed and just as crazy as Bernhard
Or is this proof that the system works
or are we all being treated like jerks?
Take your chance and step right up to place your bets
and I’m gonna put my money down
saying if it’s ever the other way around
we’ll find out that what you see ain’t what you Goetz
THOUGHT OUT
we just thought it was a drink,
but maybe had there been more time to think …
a cognac on the rocks and a glass of white wine
crowd thinning out cause it’s near closing time
laughs, cigarette smoke, an adult’s playroom
where foreplay for players who like adult freedom
and dimly dark lowlight sparks …
we just thought it was different
like a pleasant surprise
and maybe we wouldn’t have said so much as ‘hello’
had we looked around into other folks’ eyes
we just thought it was cool
but not the rigid, frigid,
frozen, not-chosen
petrified, paralyzed
ossified ostracized
put out to pasture is the ultimate disaster
we just thought it was a glance
almost something thought to yourself
a second look, a double give and take
a ‘very nice, my lady’ and/or
an appraisal of the up-closer, ‘hmm’
we thought it was a change of pace
an hour away, a quiet someplace
just to talk, walk, speak, peek
see behind that sudden jolt,
an electric unexpected volts
probably nothing but might be fun
if not, nobody lost nobody won
but much more suddenly than all at once,
an unexpected cloud that blocks the sun
and before we heard the starter’s gun
too soon to know it was too late to run
we thought it was no big deal
we thought it had an ugly feel
a curious, furious over reaction
that there would be no end to the distractions
unless we gave up
and said we’d had enough
and we had thought it was ours.
My life is one of movement
I been running as fast as I can
I’ve inherited trial and error directly from my old man
But I’m committed to the consequences
Whether I stand or fall
And when I get back to my life
I think I’m gonna give her a call
She’s been waiting patiently
For me to get myself together
And it touched something deep inside
When she said she’d wait forever
Because forever’s right up on me now
That is, if it ever comes at all
And when I get back to my life
I think I’m gonna give her a call
She didn’t know, she could hardly believe
How much she means to me
She wouldn’t know, she could scarcely understand
Why I cling so desperately to dreams
’Cause she’s calmed me in the evening
She’s calmed me in the night
She’s calmed my fear of dreaming
And maybe my fear of life
My life’s been one of running away
Just as fast as I can
But I’ve been no more successful at getting away
Than was my old man
But if you come to recognize the truth
And understand that the truth is really all
That when I get back to my life
I think I’m gonna give her a call
LADY'S SONG
To say any words you ain’t feeling
Don’t seem to be what she needs
She’s been hurt a lot and put down a lot
But she don’t really need your sympathy
’Cause her touch is soft and her eyes are smiling
Though small-time people try and put her down.
She ain’t done nobody wrong
The love she has is gonna keep her strong
(It seems like) long after love has abandoned you and me
You might see her running to work in the morning
Remember there’s a whole lot on her mind
If you’ve got nothing to say
Why not let her go on her way
’Cause brother, everybody just ain’t got the time
THE ‘GOLDFINGER’ AFFAIR
The artist lucked into a couple of good seats
And told a girl he’d walked around with for a week.
And when she spoke up saying that she’d like to go
It was like being nominated for his own double-O.
Because no exaggeration let’s just say she was ‘impressive’
And taking her out would be considered thoroughly ‘progressive’.
She needed someone who knew karate
And called a ‘Scott’ from Scotland Yard.
And if you were into guarding bodies
She had a body you would love to guard.
Keep all the freaks and creeps out of her hair.
A holiday weekend knight in the middle of Times Square
And he put the ‘lean’ inside of ‘clean’
And took the ‘cool’ letters out of ‘school’
And the last thing that he would ever dream
Was being set up and treated like a fool.
No! ‘Set up’ implies conspiracy,
A deliberately crooked deal
But you didn’t need X-ray vision to see
That her family’s shock was real.
No they weren’t surprised that he was black
Or forgotten that they were white
This wasn’t a formal marriage proposal
So that wasn’t the issue that night.
The doorman walked him through the lobby to the back
But he was too fuckin’ excited to even notice that
But riding up the shaft, it smelled a bit ripe in the elevator
Floor slippery, a helluva draft, that all came to him later.
The pulleys was whining and bitching
The whole box was bumping and pitching
He was about to ask the pilot about ditching
When the door opened and he was standing in the kitchen
The family ‘recovered’ it up like it happened all the time
The smiles were so bright the Artist damn near went blind
His face was on fire and he was relieved to be a brother
His red-faced embarrassment couldn’t be ‘read’ by the others.
He was stammering as he met the adults
His heart was hammering as he examined the doorman’s insult
He feels like he’s made of plaster frozen there before- hand
He conceals that his mind is on the bastard, the motherfuckin’ doorman,
He pictures the broad-shouldered man, his tacky uniform sagging
Inside the basement cave with the maintenance crew
This sonofabitch is bragging
‘Some nigger,’ he spits. ‘Goin’ upstairs to date her
So I take him up there in the service elevator!’
The janitor and the elevator man laughed till they cry
Thinking about how their colleague just embarrassed some guy.
The Artist wanted to explain that their plans for the night
Were no longer in effect
He wanted to complain that he wasn’t feeling right
And had a terrible pain in the neck
Apologize quickly and not linger
Advise them to ‘Call 9–1–1 fast’,
Leave them the tickets, they could go to ‘Goldfinger’
He would go back downstairs to kick some ass!
Yeah! For two years he had hung out with the preps
But he came from ‘little San Juan’
And down there he’d once had a pretty decent rep
And an insult justified ‘gettin’ it on’.
But doesn’t it happen like that all the time
Brothers ending up on their way to the joint
If they don’t damage your body they fuck with your mind
And you never reach no terminal point
It’s not the one insult.
It’s not the word ‘nigger!’
And each day is a little more difficult
Holding back the rage leaves you terribly bitter
And this was one the Artist managed to resist
Flexing his fingers, not letting them roll up into a fist
Because that would have hurt his Mom and everybody else
So he took the girl to James Bond and was humiliated by himself.
THE OLDEST REASON IN THE WORLD
… because i always feel like running. not away,
… because there’s no such place
…. because if there was
i would have found it by now
… because it’s easier to run; easier than staying
and finding out you’re the only one who didn’t run
… because running will be the way your life and mine
will be described:
as in the long run or
as in having given someone a run for his money or
as in running out of time
… because running makes me look like everyone else
though i hope there will never
be cause for that
… because i will be running in the other direction:
not running for cover;
… because if i knew where cover was
i would stay there and never have to run for it.
not running for my life
… because i have to be running
for something of more value to be running
and not in fear;
… because the thing i fear cannot be
escaped, eluded, avoided,
hidden from, protected from, gotten away from,
not without showing the fear
as i see it now
… because closer, clearer/no sir nearer
… because of you, and
… because of the nice that you quietly, quickly be causing and
… because you’re going to see me run soon, and
… because you’re going to know why i’m running. then.
you’ll know then
… because i’m not going to tell you now.
IS THAT JAZZ?
Basie was never really commonplace
He was always measures ahead.
Ellington was more than number one
For the music and things that he said.
Bird was the word back when tenors were heard
From Kansas right up to the Prez
And Billie was really the Queen of a scene
That keeps echoing on in my head.
What it has will surely last but is that Jazz?
Miles had a style that amazes and raises
The spirits from deep in your soul.
’Trane struck a vein of laughter and pain
Adventures the mind could explore.
Stevie and Bob talk of freedom and ‘jam’
In their own individual ways.
Playing and singing as long as its bringing
A message in all that it says.
What it has will surely last but is that Jazz?
We overanalyse we let others define
A thousand precious feelings from our past.
When we express love and tenderness
Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz?
Dizzy’s been busy while Grover gets us over
With notes that go straight to the heart.
Brother Ron gets it on with a baseline so strong
That the sounds seem to grow in the dark.
I take pride in what’s mine – is that really a crime –
When you know I ain’t got nothing else?
Only millions of sounds pick me up when I’m down;
Let me salvage a piece of myself.
What it has will surely last but is that Jazz?
LADY DAY AND JOHN COLTRANE
Ever feel kinda down and out and don’t know
just what to do?
Livin’ alla your days in darkness, let the sun shine
through.
Ever feel that somehow, somewhere you lost
your way?
And if you don’t get help you won’t make it
through the day.
You could call on Lady Day!
You could call on John Coltrane!
They’ll wash your troubles, your troubles away.
Plastic people with plastic minds on their way to
plastic homes.
There’s no beginning, there ain’t no ending
just on and on and on and on and …
It’s all because we’re so afraid to say that we’re
alone
until our hero rides in, rides in on his
saxophone.
You could call on Lady Day!
You could call on John Coltrane!
They’ll wash your troubles, your troubles away.
Free will is free mind. Free to evaluate the systems that control our lives from without and free to examine the emotions that control our perspective from within.
Black people everywhere are becoming aware of the gaps that exist between the ‘American’ values and the values of our spirits. The nature of our spirits demand a lifestyle apart from the American life speed – a lifestyle that accents life and not death, love and not hate.
We have things to do for tomorrow. Our children will have to deal with all the mistakes we make today. To live in dignity they will have to erase many of the peronsal compromises we made.
We must actively search out the truth and help each other.
We do not need more legislation or more liberals. What we need is self-love and self-respect. By every means necessary!
Unfortunately, it is not easy to lvoe yourself after you heard hatred and self-destruction in every city. We must make the extra effort needed to identify the true enemies of our peace of mind.
We can begin by realizing that though we are trapped by economic and geographical boundaries. we are still capable of spiritual freedom supported by the truth.
What we do with the truth is the key to our freedom.
Notes from Reflection on Free Will (15/5/72)
‘ … words are important for the mind/notes are for the soul.’ (from ‘Plastic Pattern People,’ 11/67)
PLASTIC PATTERN PEOPLE
glad to get high and see the slow motion world,
just to reach and touch the half-notes floating.
world spinning quicker than 9/8 Dave Brubeck. we
come now frantically searching for Thomas
More rainbow villages.
up on suddenly Charlie Mingus and Ahmed
Abdul-Malik
to add bass to a bottomless pit of insecurity. you
may be plastic because
you never meditate about the bottom of glasses,
the third side of your universe.
add on
Alice Coltrane and her cosmic strains, still no
vocal
on blue-black horizons your plasticity is tested
by a formless assault: THE SUN can answer
questions
in tune to sacrificial silence but why will our
new jazz age give us no more expanding puzzles?
(Enter John) blow from under always and
never so that,
the morning may shout of brain-
bending saxophones.
the third world arrives with Yusef Lateef
and
Pharoah Sanders with oboes straining to touch the
core of your unknown soul.