by BAR Poet-in-Residence Raymond Nat Turner
Dan quizzed, “Don’t you have Dyson?”
Satan quipped, “Damn right, my son,”
“And Reverend Al and Harris-Perry—
What the hell—the more the merry!”
The Devil & Dan Jones
by BAR Poet-in-Residence Raymond Nat Turner
Once there was a mule
Head named Dan Jones
Who went deep green
To make his bones…
Grateful, his don dubbed
Him as Green Czar
Hitching him up to the
Mule in a sidecar…
But, soon came an awful,
Terrible dragging sound—
The don had Dan shoved
Beneath a Greyhound!
Witnesses all swore that
Dan had come to grief
Taken out by his
Commander-in-chief…
A rather cunning feller
NY Times bestseller
Dan was nobody’s fool
Trussed to the ol’ mule—
Lashed to the state machine
Like a great stunt scene
In back of the mule team
Clutching his rebuilt dream…
FLASHBACK:
Years ago, Dan met with
The Devil and cut a deal:
To paint things green,
While “keeping it real”
Spinning double-talk into obfuscation
Dealing dope of disinformation
Spinning his Don with sick skill
In Operation Chlorophyll
Dan quizzed, “Don’t you have Dyson?”
Satan quipped, “Damn right, my son,”
“And Reverend Al and Harris-Perry—
What the hell—the more the merry!”
Dan whined, “What if people discover?”
Satan whispered, “I’ll give left cover,
I’ll handle doubters and haters,
The left Luddites and agitators!”
And when Dan asked outta the deal
Satan snapped, “Now, let’s be real—
Your chances are none to slim
Your ass is mine like Unca Jim,
Or like the Clintons and Gore
You belong to me forevermore…”
“Why, Dan, you’re a good man,
By having you, “Yes, we can!”
Come commit pen and tongue
You’ll be big as Andy Young,
A pulpit to plot and scheme
All in the name of “the dream,”
But dreams don’t pay rent—
Come manufacture consent
With your smarts and pedigree
Come and be all that you can be!
Yes, you and Mike will be tops,
Big Word-Men, running Psy-Ops
Why, we’ll be keeping dope alive
Re-filling Negroz heads with jive!
Dan, we knew you had it goin’ on
Now, let’s green the Pentagon:
Ooh, organic cotton jumpsuits,
Bamboo batons, recycled boots!
Solitary confinement, ionized air,
A solar-powered electric chair;
Armored division, hybrid tanks
Solar drones covering flanks—
Doesn’t matter how obscene,
You’ll just paint everything green—
Smear stories with left lacquer
Go wild with me as your backer!
Come meet the Brothers Coke,
Eating fire, blowing smoke!
Think girls are sugar and spice?
Well, meet Condi and Susan Rice!
Meet Long Dong and Collin Powell
“Who?” Dan, don’t act like an owl…
Here, meet Henry and Zibignew
Chaps with “hella” love for you!
“Hillary’s a legend?” How true
Allow me to do the same for you!
Why, yes, that’s sulfur you smell
My son, you have arrived in hell
Now employed by the rouge state
I’m your Devil Incarnate
Dan stammered, “…You…tube was grainy—
But… YOU is fuckin’ DICK CHENEY!!”
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at upsurgejazz.com.
Raymond Nat Turner © 2013 All Rights Reserved
Corporate America and white supremacists have waged merciless war against the Black megapolis that dared to nurture revolutionaries and great music.
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We need to understand mutual aid work as part and parcel to the work of all radical organizing.
The zeitgeist of Black literature shifted in the past decade, from Black progress to precarity.
Unless Black people are healthy and safe then no community is healthy and safe.
