Poetry Issue of Journal of Pan African Studies Dedicated to Dingane (Jose Goncalves)
We are humbled to dedicate the poetry issue of the Journal of Pan African Studies to the Honorable Jose Goncalves, publisher and editor of the Journal of Black Poetry, the poetic Bible of the 60s Black Liberation/Black Arts Movement. No other journal in the history of American literature published so many poets. No other journal was more eclectic and democratic in its editorial policy. We thank Rudolph Lewis (a virtual reincarnation of Goncalves in his dedication to black literature in the electronic age) for compiling this summary of the work of Dingane and the Journal of Black Poetry. One day soon we plan to honor Dingane with a Journal of Black Poetry Festival.
FYI, some years before she made her transition to the ancestors, I gave poet-critic Sherley A. Williams a collection of the Journal of Black Poetry and asked her to do an anthology. I did not hear from my childhood friend on the anthology, but Dingane informed me that she completed it and submitted it to him, everything except an introduction, so he is working on publishing Sherley’s anthology (peace be upon her).
Finally, we honor Dingane because of his hard work, almost single handedly publishing and editing the JBP. It is the testament of what one person can do to ignite a prairie fire.
Yes, five hundred poets were heard through the journal, but just know one man often struggled alone through the night, sometimes neglecting family to get the word out, to advance the cultural revolution. Let the JBP be the model for today’s generation of cultural workers. Let our work be democratic, not subject to culture police who would silence some voices they consider not politically correct. In the tradition of Vudun, let all the gods represent, let us all dance to the rhythms of the drum.
The poets in this edition of the Journal of Pan African Studies represent BAM poets down to the Hip Hop generation with Bruce George, co-founder of Def Poetry Jam.
By the December publication date, we hope to have intergenerational representation from coast to coast. We hope you are included.
--Marvin X, Guest Editor
To date, the following poets have submitted material or have been invited to do so:
Askia Toure
Louis Reyes Rivera
Al Young
Paradise Jah Love
Ptah Allah El
Ayodele Nzingha
Devorah Major
Amiri Baraka
Kalamu Ya Salaam
Opal Palmer Adisa
Phavia Kujichagulia
Jeannette Drake
Bruce George
Itibari Zulu
Rudolph Lewis
Nandi Comer
Renaldo Manuel Ricketts
Anthony Mays
Dr. Tracey Owens Patton
Dike Okoro
J. Vern Cromartie
Hettie V. Williams
Neal E. Hall, MD
Kola Boof
Ishmael Reed
Ras Baraka
Ghasem Batamuntu
Sonia Sanchez
Nikki Giovanni
Marvin X
Selected Poems from Poetry Issue of Journal of Pan African Studies
I’m in a world
Bruce George
I’m in a world
of concrete and steel
of mace and riots
of endless talk
of endless plots
of prison politics
of taking orders
of giving orders
of recycled dreams
of letters gone unanswered
of funerals unattended
of lock-downs
of beat-downs
of testosterone
of claustrophobia
of anger
of no love
of no hope
of no peace!
I’m in a world
where you look through and not at
where you cry on the inside
where you die on the inside
where you take no prisoners
where you are taken prisoner
where time stands still
where time passes by
where you are forgotten
where you are not forgiven
where you lose your mind
where you lose your soul
yet I’m still a man
yet I’m still human
yet I’m a child of God
yet I’m free!
--Bruce George
Co-founder of Def Poetry Jam.
Again the Kora
My heart strings before me
vessel
arteries
no blockage
music is detox
unplugging centuries
slavery
aftermath
failed reconstruction
terror of KKK
landless
betrayal of all parties to conflict
jim crow
post black negro
neo jim crow
Obama drama
oh, kora
you take me out of here
another land, time, space,
trillion years ago
a thousand million nights
on the Senegal, Congo, Nile
I am the king, I farmer, builder, iron worker, goldsmith
warrior
I am that I am
Oh, Kora
soul of my soul
plucker of heart
dance holy dance of a thousand years
leap into the forest
hold the lion above head
dancers of the perfect mask
terror of manhood training
blood of womanhood
see and smell womanhood
men smell blood of the lion.
I am your love slave, oh Kora
in spite of myself
I submit willingly
to the voice of Allah
no getting out of this
no crawling, no slither
snake like
Oh, Kora
a light and love.
so it is.
--Marvin X
7/30/10
IF YOU'RE STILL THE SAME AFTERWARDS
photo by Alex Lear
IF YOU'RE STILL THE SAME AFTERWARDS
IT WASN'T LOVE
(to nia, thanx for making me better)
to say
"i am touched
by you"
is to be
changed
into
a person neither of us
was before
entering the other
more open, a sun of sensitivity
emotionally nude, erupting joy
& willing to kiss life open mouthed
emoting the vibrancy of glow
endemic to souls in the flow
in fact, it's even unscientific
not to evol
ve/not to love, not to
grow & give back
the only humans who actually evolve
are lovers
all others
just simply fuck and reproduce
the transformation
of touch
that's all
love is
—kalamu ya salaam
Kalamu ya salaam is one of the founders of the Southern Black Arts Movement.
Esther Rolle
(a poem in memory of the pioneering
black actress)
When you die...come back to life
So we can laugh and cry and curse the living!
O! I want to curse anything.
Drab concrete sky leaving me with too many songs.
Sadness leaves, because I forget the words.
The words are so many, I just wrinkle
up and laugh and squeeze my hurting hands.
I remember being young and frisky.
I remember being a creamy hot thing.
I remember the lemony days and hasty dreamy nights
that snuck away with the words.
Stole away.
The one song I remember, the one I loved
went:
"when you die...come back to life."
--Kola Boof
I care about whichever word
by Louis Reyes Rivera
I care about whichever word
is used like grass
or turned to twist
& make a victim look like killer
or heard to sing like daybreak
smelling...
An octorose of warmth
blending
into
nightshed
deep
a dance of waves
the sun weaves in
an intricate of light
of gentle ripples
warmly dancing
weaving waves
of shadelit haze
like the sea ebbing into shore.
Even in the repetition
a word
means just as much to me
as morning's mist to dawn
the ease with which
night
moves
out
for daylight rays
like the quick shot from a gun
or loosely lipping attitude
that can just as easily
grit
or
grin
or smile right back
in hard soft sounds
like a kitten's tender touch
a curious tiny paw wanting
but to be believed.
I like the word, determination,
a Black child learning how to read
the wonder of a family intact,
a puertorrican
grasping & digging
into our own past... becoming Borinqueño
studying Betances
Belvis
Pachin Marin
listening to Malcolm
hard
intent
& full of care
concern
in a loving nudge of words
penetrating
deep inside the heart of thought
with Yes! Of course!
We got no choice
but grow!
& Be!
& Stand Up, Child...
Come & Change this world
with strength & perseverance
Come & Grace this Earth
with your own sense longing
like the octorose of warmth
u
n
f
o
l
d
i
n
g
winglike petals unto dawn
to soar, Yes, flying!
I like to hear Rashidah speak
I like to watch Zizwe's walk
the happenstance of Sekou's song
the lilting lyric in Safiya's sway
(& in case you do not know,
have never heard or watched them work:
Rashidah is an Ismaili,
a misspelled word
from the ink of census takers
conquering her land;
Zizwe, a child returned
from whence once stole,
Ngafua now an African at war;
Sekou but a blue lake
reclaiming lineage to Sundiata
undercoat guerilla born;
Safiya, black pearl caught
in the devil's hand
way back when Hendersons,
cut loose from prison cells,
sailed across atlantic gates
to rape the earth into a world
where poets have no chance.)
Despite it all, they sing & work,
they write & read,
they care,
get drunk
or pray,
while few will publish them their due,
fewer still will plant their books
into your hands,
your own calluses of soil
digging
deep
into
self
gripping all their pages,
holding them as dearly as you would
an octorose of warmth.
& yes
I like the word of action true
the sound of gunfire busting through
the doors
that hold back freedom blue
given
how
our own young Blackfolk
get cornered into hating what to do like Larry Davis
cracking through
the wall of crack
that would diffuse
whatever life a child could cling to/
cornered
in a vacuum of tenements jammed in despair
surrounded by a dozen cops
a dozen watchful dogs
hunting those who break
the must
& misty stink of deprivation
surrounded by a dozen cops
alone
except for rifle
shotgun
millimeter
automatic in his hand
bursting through the door
this five foot four
Davis, Larry
hurls across a rooftop
shooting
wounding
striking out against
this hateful passion
cold city bred
escaping into freedom's scent
like the octorose of warmth
s
p
r
e
a
d
i
n
g
w i d e its span of wings
& soaring, Yes,
soaring high & bleeding from the heart
of nothing
wanting
something
in the anywake
of every word
struggling for the worth of hope that comes at dawn.
--Louis Reyes Rivera
Reasons
I got reasons
reasons for war
reasons for inner peace
reasons
for my reasoning
it ain't random
you can put it on the margin
call it fringe
it’s a matter of the matter
ya condition is in
or the paradigm ya
lens is in
if its crazy to be sane
then
you know
how a double
consciousness go
walking and wounded
wounded still walking
behind the veil
seeing
I got my reasons
reasons
why I flaunt my nappy hair
still think in Ebonics
fluent in my overstanding of
the lens in ya literacy
and i still be me
got my reasons
why I don't care bout
ya reasons
season after season
it looks the same
it ain't geography that's
easy to see
its beyond the lie of race
it’s not nuanced in class
(I pray ya the last of a dying
breed) cuz I
can't explain the greed
what kind of fear
prompts that kind of need
but I see it
and I reason
I don't matter
so I stay brave
enough to smell rain coming
get my news from the dead
eat well
sleep on clean sheets
and wear oils of lavender and frankincense
while I can
I reason time belongs to God
and you are
not
God
you got ya reasons
I guess to be confused
manipulating thangs
the way you do
what's a lie told
over and over
it’s the truth
broadcast it and
make it divine
but season
after season
I resist the
change necessary
to see through your
eyes
I got my reasons
with this target
on my back
I lack the motivation
to see how you reason
your rationales
decide ya bottom lines
devise ya acceptable collateral
damage tolerance
I got little tolerance
for ignorance
and reasons
not to trust you
done studied you thru Tuskegee
and the subways
don't trust you on the airways
seen you thru the haze
covering the high ways
as you follow the oil pipe ways
seen you
my eyes were open
(heard you plotting death
and everyone's destruction)
my ears were open
(God don't forgive em
they don't care what
dem do)
feel you wining
when I’m quiet
so I got reasons
to scream
I got reasons
to sleep eyes open
I got reasons
not to forget you
jailer keys jangling from the
belt below your fat belly
I remember them dumb
(its true you eat your young)
big ass eco foot prints
yes and ships
planes
bombs
weapons of mass destruction
and doctrine
manifesting ya reasons
to suit ya actions
I got reasons to
fear your secret thoughts
and your out loud lies
got reasons
to hit ya with the stank eye
while keeping my good eye on you
got reasons
to say ju ju when you pass
spit in the road and burn herbs
where are the souls that
should show though the eyes
I fear the reality
behind your disguise
I got reasons
to pray to old Gods
got reasons to
read more than the gospel
(yeah though I live in
in Babylon where idiots do
get they babble on)
got reasons to
teach my young to
beware merry go rounds
and lies about shiny things
that you pay for with ya soul
teaching em’ to remember
no matter how it hurts
to know the truth
instructing them to
ward off evil
by working
hex the devil
by dreaming
saying to them
write poems
don't kill one another
even lyrically
love the old
protect the young
sharpen intellects
to sword points
to make my point
got reasons
to keep reasoning
with the tone deaf choir
(more fire aya)
until its
too late
for reason
reasoning or
reasons
11/2009
Ayodele “WordSlanger” Nzinga
Nada mas para ahora!
--Marvin X
The Journal of Pan African Studies is an online journal.
Senior Editor,
Itibari Zulu
send submissions to
Guest Editor:
jmarvinx@yahoo.com
MS Word document, include brief bio
Deadline extended to
October 15, 2010
December publication date
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