Lots of people noticed when poet Amiri Baraka finally awoke from his Obamaphilic trance last week. Raymond Nathaniel Turner, impresario of Oakland’s Upsrurge jazz Ensemble, offer’s this poetic answer to Baraka’s question, “…When will you learn, poet, and remember so you know it…”?
…
Poet, when didn’t you know it?
Iceberg made his bones first day on the job,
Whackin’ a couple Somalis—called them pirates.
Poet, when didn’t you know it?
Iceberg’s brass-balled triangulation, juggling
Three wars, picking up a peace prize, torpedoing
Copenhagen with “clean coal” and nukes: priceless.
Poet, when didn’t you know it?
Neon signs in Guantanamo’s windows flashing OPEN,
As Slim’s “surges,” and more drone strikes than eight
W years seem to scream, “Hey, Poet, judge me not by
The color of my skin, but by content of my character!”
…
You, snatching you from Iceberg Slim’s grip…
In his Prison Poems, Ho Chi Minh said, the
Poet must also know how to lead an attack—
Hurry, Poet, hurry, I’ve been waiting… for you!
…
More here.