Ravi Shankar comes
with strings attached/prepared to stabilize
your seventh sense (Black Rhythm!)
up and down a silly ladder run the notes without
the words. words are important for the mind/the notes are for the soul.
Miles Davis? SO WHAT?
Cannonball, Fiddler, Mercy
Dexter Gordon, ONE flight UP
Donald Byrd, Cristo
but what about words?
would you like to survive on sadness/call on
Ella and Jose Happiness
drift with
Smoky, Bill Medley, Bobby Taylor
Otis/soul music where frustrations are
washed by drums – come Nina and Miriam –
congo/mongo beat me senseless
bongo/tonto – flash through dream worlds of
STP and LSD. SpEeD kilLs and
sometimes
music’s call to the Black is confused. our
speed is our life pace/not safe/not good.
i beg you to escape
and live
and hear all of the real. to survive in a
sincere second of self-self
until a call comes for you to cry elsewhere.
we
must all cry, but must the tears be white?
WRITER'S NOTE
It should be pointed out, I believe, that there are specific individuals or works of art from individual artists that are the source of creative ideas. As such the efforts that are inspired in that direction become extensions or complements. (At least the succeeding artist hopes that his work is a compliment.)
‘Spirits’:
‘Spirits’ was inspired by the John Coltrane composition ‘Equinox’. It signified September 23rd, the midway point in the yearly cycle, 180 days from March 20th, recognized in some places as New Year’s Day. September 23rd, the beginning of Libra, the beginning of Autumn, is the yearly point where the sun is directly over the equator and day and night are exactly twelve hours long. (Performed on Spirits.)
‘Inner City Blues’:
Inspired by the Marvin Gaye song ‘Inner City Blues’ and is a compliment/supplement to what I consider to be a tune that still carries a great deal of relevance. (Performed on Reflections.)
‘Cane’:
Inspired by the Jean Toomer book written during the Harlem Renaissance. The first two characters examined are ‘Karintha’ and ‘Becky’, two incredibly well-drawn women that I was touched by and wanted to expand people’s awareness of. (Performed on Secrets.)
‘We Almost Lost Detroit’:
Comes from the book by John Fuller that examined an accident at the Enrico Fermi nuclear power plant outside of Detroit in 1967. (Performed on Bridges.)
SPIRITS
The world spins around us
We search for a balance
The secrets lie in darkness and light
Our lives are like treasures
Unveiled as perfection
A gift to us from spirits on high
Equator. Divider. Equate us. Combine us.
To seek the answers beyond our sight …
INNER CITY BLUES
So you say you never heard of the ‘Inner City Blues’
And what’s more you don’t understand it all
What the ghetto folks mean about ‘living behind walls’?
Then put on your best suit, white shirt and tie
And come on downtown to stand in line
For a job washing dishes but you may not qualify.
Walking a great big hole in a new pair of shoes
And you’ve had your first look at the ‘Inner City Blues’.
Go looking for a place to live but all the while
Beware of what’s lurking behind the devil’s smile.
Are we stupid or just naive that we continue to believe
Money can buy us anything
Including a slice of ‘the American Dream’?
Answer ads in the paper about ‘houses for sale’
And get treated like Charles Manson out on bail
When you start to get frustrated by the tactics they use
You can recognize that, it’s the ‘Inner City Blues’.
It makes you wanna holler and throw up both your hands.
And haven’t you ever wondered about
Why some brothers and sisters were down and out?
Receiving their sympathy from a bottle of wine
Or worse yet ‘old homicide’
Living their lives in a glassine bag
While praising the mysteries of terminal scag?
Still other brothers are parading in drag?
Another set of victims too whipped to choose
You can recognize that its the ‘Inner City Blues’
It makes you wanna holler and throw up both your hands!
To see sweet sisters, the blossoms of our African tree
Profiling on the corners talking about ‘ten and three’
Because in spite of all the money we made and taxes we paid
The woman was looking at hungry babes
And some decisions had to be made
Could you tell her it’s better to go to your grave
As a slave to the minimum wage.
Well I hardly think so but
It makes you wanna holler sometimes and throw up both your hands.
And what happens when people decide
Did you ever hear about Mark Essex
And the things that made him choose
To fight the ‘Inner City Blues’?
Yeah! Essex took to the rooftops guerrilla-style
And watched as all the crackers went wild.
Brought in 600 troops, I hear
Brand new to see them crushed by fear
Essex fought back with a thousand rounds
And New Orleans was a changing town
And rat-a-tat, tat-tat-tat, was the only sound.
Bring on the stoner rifles to knock down walls!
Bring on the god damn elephant guns!
Bring on the helicopters to block out the sun!
Made the devil wanna holler
Because eight were dead and a dozen was down
And cries for freedom were the only sounds
New York, Chicago, ’Frisco, L.A.
Justice was served and the unjust were afraid
Because after all the years and all the fears
Brothers were alive to courage found
And spreading those god damn blues around!
Yeah! makes you wanna holler black people
And hold up both your hands and say ‘Liberation’
This poem was recorded on ‘Reflections’ (1981, Arista).
First performed as a part of a medley between the songs
‘Essex’ by Bilal Sunni-Ali (recorded on the 1975 Arista LP
South Africa to South Carolina) and ‘Inner City Blues’ by
Marvin Gaye (recorded on the 1971, Motown LP What’s Going On.
CANE
Take Karintha
Take Karintha
(As) perfect as dusk when the sun goes down
Take Karintha
(As) perfect as twilight as a child
Able to drive both young and old wild
(As) perfect as dusk when the sun goes down
And remember, remember every sound
’Cause often as our flowers bloom
Men will try and cut them down
Take Karintha
She’s as sweet as spring rain
And run from the cane
Run from the cane
Pray for Becky
Pray for Becky
White woman gave
Birth to two Black sons
Pray for Becky
Her one room shack fell to the ground
The two boys killed a man
And had to leave town
White woman gave
Birth to two Black sons
And remember, remember the days
She looked to us for help
And we all turned away
Pray for Becky
Buried down near the trains
Deep in the cane
Deep in the cane
WE ALMOST LOST DETROIT
It stands out on the highway
Like a creature from another time
It inspires the baby’s question (‘Mama, what’s that?’)
They ask their mothers as they ride.
But no one stops to think about the babies
Or how they would survive
And we almost lost Detroit this time
How would we ever get over losing our minds?
Just 30 miles from Detroit
Stands a giant power station
That ticks each night as the city sleeps
Just seconds from annihilation
But no one stops to think about the people
On how they would survive
And we almost lost Detroit this time
How would we ever get over losing our minds?
The Sheriff of Monroe County
Had (sho’ ’nuff) disasters on his mind
And what would Karen Silkwood say to you
If she was still alive?
That when it comes to people’s safety
Money wins out every time
And we almost lost Detroit this time
How would we ever get over losing our minds?
I THINK I'LL CALL IT MORNING
I’m gonna take myself a piece of sunshine
and paint it all over my sky.
Be no rain. Be no rain.
I’m gonna take the song from every bird
and make them sing it just for me.
Be no rain.
And I think I’ll call it morning from now on.
Why should I survive on sadness
convince myself I’ve got to be alone?
Why should I subscribe to this world’s
madness
knowing that I’ve got to live on?
I think I’ll call it morning from now on.
I’m gonna take myself a piece of sunshine
and paint it all over my sky.
Be no rain. Be no rain.
I’m gonna take the song from every bird
and make them sing it just for me.
Why should I hang my head?
Why should I let tears fall from my eyes
when I’ve seen everything that there is to see
and I know that there ain’t no sense in crying!
I know that there ain’t no sense in crying!
I think I’ll call it morning from now on.
A LOVELY DAY
On a bright spring morning
Not a cloud in the sky;
Got me out here walkin’, wavin’ to the ladies
As they stroll by.
And I ain’t forgot for a moment
All the things I need to do,
But when I see that old sun shinin’
It makes me think that I can make it too.
All I really want to say
Is that problems come and go
But the sunshine seems to stay.
Just look around, I think we’ve found
A lovely day.
Flowers woke up bloomin’,
Put on a color show just for me.
Shadows dark and gloomy
I tell them all to stay the hell away from me.
Because I don’t feel like believin’
Everything I do got to turn out wrong
When vibrations I’m receivin’
Say hold on brother! Just you be strong.
All I really want to say
Is that problems come and go
But the sunshine remains.
Just look around, I think we’ve found
A lovely day.
Sometimes it rains and I feel kind of strange.
Because it seems that my problems begin
Without the sunshine on which I depend.
BEGINNINGS (The First Minute of a New Day)
We’re sliding through completely new
beginnings.
We’re searching out our every doubt
and winning.
We want to be free
and yet we have no idea
why we are struggling here
faced with our every fear
just to survive.
We’ve heard the sound and come around
to listening.
We’ve touched the vibes time after time
insisting that we know what life means;
still we can’t break away
from dues we’ve got to pay
we hope will somehow say
that we’re alive.
NO KNOCK (to be slipped into John Mitchell's Suggestion Box)
You explained it to me John I must admit,
but just for the record you was talkin’ shit!
Long raps about No Knock being legislated
for the people you’ve always hated
in this hell-hole that you/we all call ‘home’.
‘No Knock!’ The Man will say, ‘to keep that man
from beatin’ his wife!’
‘No Knock!’ The Man will say, ‘to keep people
from hurtin’ themselves!’
No-Knockin’, head rockin’, enter shockin’,
shootin’, cussin’,
killin’, cryin’, lyin’ and bein’ white!
No Knocked on my brother, Fred Hampton,
bullet holes all over the place!
No knocked on my brother, Michael Harris
and jammed a shotgun against his skull!
For my protection?
Who’s gonna protect me from you?
The likes of you? The nerve of you!
To talk that shit face-to-face
your tomato face dead pan
your dead pan deadening another freedom plan!
No Knockin’, head rockin’, enter shockin’,
shootin’, cussin’,
killin’, cryin’, lyin’ and bein’ white!
But if you’re wise, No Knocker,
you’ll tell your No-Knockin’ lackies
to No Knock on my brother’s heads
and No Knock on my sister’s heads
and double lock your door
because soon someone may be No Knocking …
for you!
BILLY GREEN IS DEAD
‘The economy’s in an uproar,
the whole damn country’s in the red,
taxi fares is goin’ up … What?
You say Billy Green is dead?’
‘The government can’t decide on busin’
Or at least that’s what they said.
Yeah, I heard when you tol’ me,
You said Billy Green is dead.’
‘But let me tell you ’bout these hotpants
that this big-legged sista wore
when I partied with the frat boys.
You say Billy took an overdose?’
‘Well now, junkies will be junkies,
But did you see Gunsmoke las’ night?
Man they had themselves a shootout
an’ folks wuz dyin’ left and right!
At the end when Matt was cornered
I had damn near give up hope …
Why you keep on interruptin’ me?
You say my son is takin’ dope?
Call a lawyer! Call a doctor!
What you mean I shouldn’t scream?
My only son is on narcotics,
should I stand here like I’m pleased?’
Is that familiar anybody?
Check out what’s inside your head,
because it never seems to matter
when it’s Billy Green who’s dead.
WINTER IN AMERICA
From the Indians who welcomed the pilgrims
to the buffalo who once ruled the plains;
like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
looking for the rain, looking for the rain.
From the cities that stagger on the coast lines
in a nation that just can’t take much more
like the forest buried beneath the highways
never had a chance to grow, never had a chance
to grow.
It’s winter; winter in america
and all of the healers have been killed or forced
away.
It’s winter; winter in america
and ain’t nobody fighting ’cause nobody knows
what to save.
The con-stitution was a noble piece of paper;
with Free Society they struggled but they died in
vain
and now Democracy is ragtime on the corner
hoping that it rains, hoping that it rains.
And I’ve seen the robins perched in barren
treetops
watching last ditch racists marching across the
floor
and like the peace signs that melted in our
dreams
never had a chance to grow, never had a
chance to grow.
It’s winter; winter in america
and all of the healers done been killed or put in
jail
it’s winter, winter in america
and ain’t nobody fighting ’cause nobody knows
what to save.
Winter is a metaphor – a term used not only to describe the season of ice, but this period of our lives through which we are traveling.
In our hearts we feel that Spring is just around the corner; a Spring of brotherhood and united spirits among people of color. Everyone is moving, searching. There is a restlessness within our souls that keeps us questioning, discovering, struggling against a system that will not allow us space and time for fresh expression. Western Icemen have attempted to distort time.
We approach Winter, the most depressing period in the history of his Western Empire, with threats of oil shortages and energy crises. But we, as Black people, have been a source of endless energy, endless beauty and endless determination. I have many things to tell you about tomorrow’s love and light. We will see you in the Spring.