Parable of King Tut

Parable of King Tut


There was a man spoiled rotten by women, wives and lovers. One of his several mother-in-laws said she never saw a man treated so royally as her daughter treated him. He got breakfast in bed, lunch in bed, dinner in bed. Her daughter waited on him as if he were King Tut!
And other women did the same. He wished they would not do this to him, but of course he went along for the ride.

The people, men and women, loved him because he was intelligent and dedicated to the people. His life was a sacrifice to the people and their struggle for freedom.

Actually, he lived a spartan life with nothing of value except his writings. And they would only become valuable on the day he died, according to friends who kept his writings in their archives for that fateful day no man escapes. They made sure he autographed everything he gave or sold them.

The men loved him as much as the women. He couldn't understand why men wanted to kiss him on the cheek. He wondered if they were gay or just sincerely appreciative of the good works he did for the people.

One brother from his childhood in West Oakland told him the people were proud of him and could see he was doing something unique that no one else was doing, making himself accessible to the common people as few intellectuals and artists would dare attempt.

One of the bourgeoisie intellectuals said selling his books to the common people would be like trying to sell stakes to vegetarians. But brotherman either sold or gave away freely his books to the common people. Or he would give them credit and the people would come by weeks later with the money.

His latest book is priced at $100.00 (one hundred dollars), not because he gives a damn about money, but he wants people to appreciate the value of his labor, often writing 24/7 without a break except for a brief nap or two.

He noted the true value of a hamburger is priced at $200.00 when factored in the slave labor of tomato pickers, lettuce and cucumber pickers, also the damage to the health of field workers subjected to dangerous insecticides and pesticides. And the animals do damage to the environment and the health of consumers because the beef producers use growth hormones to expedite meat to the market place. The growth hormones in the meat have a negative effect on the health of consumers, causing a variety of diseases the cost of which is astronomical.

So why should he not charge $100.00 for his book that he labored intensely to produce, doing all the work himself, writing, editing, proofreading, supervising the printing and promotion?

Maybe he deserved having sisters clean his house on their hands and knees. Maybe he deserved his meals in bed, or getting his sexual needs met by prostitutes since he was a single man.

Some say he is the most prolific writer in America, authoring a book a month, according to his comrades in the arts, the Last Poets. He finished his memoir of Eldridge Cleaver in three weeks, in public view online as he published each chapter daily, probably the first book in history written in public view.

Believe it or not, he hated praise and was the frequent victim of theft by friends. But he didn't care, it was flattering and gave him material to write about. As Bob Marley said, with my friends I don't need enemies!

He was a recluse who rarely comes out except to teach at his Academy of Da Corner, downtown Oakland at 14th and Broadway or at the Berkeley Flea market.

Sister Aeshah Kokoman said he was a deep sea diver who rarely comes up for air, and when he does it is only for a moment.