Home | Community | Message Board



Please support our sponsors.

General Interest >> Music, Art, and Media

Welcome to the Shroomery Message Board! You are experiencing a small sample of what the site has to offer. Please login or register to post messages and view our exclusive members-only content. You'll gain access to additional forums, file attachments, board customizations, encrypted private messages, and much more!

Amazon Shop for: ½ Pint Jars

Jump to first unread post. Pages: 1
InvisibleDirtMcgirt
in a pinch
 User Gallery

Registered: 10/20/04
Posts: 2,213
Loc: city of angels
Etheridge Knight Poetry
    #4243055 - 06/01/05 05:24 AM (11 years, 6 months ago)

Pretty cool poet from the 70's. Some of it is black nationalist which personally turns me off but lots of it is good shit. Anybody read poetry here?






"Feeling Fucked Up"

Lord she's gone done left me done packed / up and split
and I with no way to make her
come back and everywhere the world is bare
bright bone white crystal sand glistens
dope death dead dying and jiving drove
her away made her take her laughter and her smiles
and her softness and her midnight sighs--

Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcom fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is my woman back
so my soul can sing



Hard Rock Returns To Prison From The Hospital For The Criminal Insane



Hard Rock was "known not to take no shit
From nobody," and he had the scars to prove it:
Split purple lips, lumbed ears, welts above
His yellow eyes, and one long scar that cut
Across his temple and plowed through a thick
Canopy of kinky hair.

The WORD was that Hard Rock wasn't a mean nigger
Anymore, that the doctors had bored a hole in his head,
Cut out part of his brain, and shot electricity
Through the rest. When they brought Hard Rock back,
Handcuffed and chained, he was turned loose,
Like a freshly gelded stallion, to try his new status.
and we all waited and watched, like a herd of sheep,
To see if the WORD was true.

As we waited we wrapped ourselves in the cloak
Of his exploits: "Man, the last time, it took eight
Screws to put him in the Hole." "Yeah, remember when he
Smacked the captain with his dinner tray?" "he set
The record for time in the Hole-67 straight days!"
"Ol Hard Rock! man, that's one crazy nigger."
And then the jewel of a myth that Hard Rock had once bit
A screw on the thumb and poisoned him with syphilitic spit.

The testing came to see if Hard Rock was really tame.
A hillbilly called him a black son of a bitch
And didn't lose his teeth, a screw who knew Hard Rock
From before shook him down and barked in his face
And Hard Rock did nothing. Just grinned and look silly.
His empty eyes like knot holes in a fence.

And even after we discovered that it took Hard Rock
Exactly 3 minutes to tell you his name,
we told ourselves that he had just wised up,
Was being cool; but we could not fool ourselves for long.
And we turned away, our eyes on the ground. Crushed.
He had been our Destroyer, the doer of things
We dreamed of doing but could not bring ourselves to do.
The fears of years like a biting whip,
Had cut deep bloody grooves
Across our backs.


"Idea of ancestry"

1


Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black

faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand-

fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts,

cousins (1st and 2nd), nieces, and nephews. They stare

across the space at me sprawling on my bunk. I know

their dark eyes, they know mine. I know their style,

they know mine. I am all of them, they are all of me;

they are farmers, I am a thief, I am me, they are thee.



I have at one time or another been in love with my mother,

1 grandmother, 2 sisters, 2 aunts (1 went to the asylum),

and 5 cousins. I am now in love with a 7-yr-old niece

(she sends me letters in large block print, and

her picture is the only one that smiles at me).



I have the same name as 1 grandfather, 3 cousins, 3 nephews,

and 1 uncle. The uncle disappeared when he was 15, just took

off and caught a freight (they say). He's discussed each year

when the family has a reunion, he causes uneasiness in

the clan, he is an empty space. My father's mother, who is 93

and who keeps the Family Bible with everbody's birth dates

(and death dates) in it, always mentions him. There is no

place in her Bible for "whereabouts unknown."





2


Each fall the graves of my grandfathers call me, the brown

hills and red gullies of mississippi send out their electric

messages, galvanizing my genes. Last yr/like a salmon quitting

the cold ocean-leaping and bucking up his birth stream/I

hitchhiked my way from LA with 16 caps in my pocket and a

monkey on my back. And I almost kicked it with the kinfolks.

I walked barefooted in my grandmother's backyard/I smelled the

old

land and the woods/I sipped cornwhiskey from fruit jars with the

men/

I flirted with the women/I had a ball till the caps ran out

and my habit came down. That night I looked at my grandmother

and split/my guts were screaming for junk/but I was almost

contented/I had almost caught up with me.

(The next day in Memphis I cracked a croaker's crib for a fix.)



This yr there is a gray stone wall damming my stream, and when

the falling leaves stir my genes, I pace my cell or flop on my bunk

and stare at 47 black faces across the space. I am all of them,

they are all of me, I am me, they are thee, and I have no children

to float in the space between.


--------------------
"And we, inhabitants of the great coral of the Cosmos, believe the atom (which still we cannot see) to be full matter, whereas, it too, like everything else, is but an embroidery of voids in the Void, and we give the name of being, dense and even eternal, to that dance of inconsistencies, that infinite extension that is identified with absolute Nothingness and that spins from its own non-being the illusion of everything."


Post Extras: Print Post  Remind Me! Notify Moderator
Jump to top. Pages: 1

Amazon Shop for: ½ Pint Jars

General Interest >> Music, Art, and Media

Similar ThreadsPosterViewsRepliesLast post
* Poetry-recommend me some! Dr. Spock 577 3 10/03/08 07:20 PM
by junkyardgod
* Poetry.com
Scarfmeister
474 2 04/22/03 02:44 PM
by rommstein2001
* poetry poetry poetry Kid_A 599 1 02/09/03 05:51 PM
by Cracka_X
* poetry willo 592 1 04/30/07 09:59 AM
by Lakefingers
* Poetry? JCoke 2,395 14 02/19/05 11:15 PM
by DirtMcgirt
* Poetry rommstein2001 898 8 06/14/03 05:38 PM
by rommstein2001
* hmmmm, first go at poetry CrispyInfidel 622 7 11/26/04 03:34 AM
by CrispyInfidel
* Reccomend Me Some Poetry! appleorange 491 6 03/14/08 05:41 PM
by FGL

Extra information
You cannot start new topics / You cannot reply to topics
HTML is disabled / BBCode is enabled
Moderator: Middleman, automan, sui, DividedQuantum
361 topic views. 0 members, 2 guests and 2 web crawlers are browsing this forum.
[ Toggle Favorite | Print Topic | Stats ]
Search this thread:
FreeSpores.com
Please support our sponsors.

Copyright 1997-2016 Mind Media. Some rights reserved.

Generated in 0.054 seconds spending 0.003 seconds on 13 queries.