by BAR poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner
in which the poet muses upon the landscapeve in which urban pioneers thrive
Oink
by BAR poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner
I saw Satan high on SeconalââRed
Devilsââzap an app for zombie-settlers.
Then they came by covered wagon,
stagecoach, horsebackâbathed, and
reinvented themselves as programmers,
humans, condo-owners.
I saw rent refugees morph into miserable
Monstersâvapid vampires sucking soul,
air and chocolate out Tha Town. I saw them
turn into werewolves on Lakeshore, pushing
porcelain babies in thousand dollar strollers;
stressed-out Yogis practicing purse-clutching,
street-crossing, stink-eye Spiritualism on children
and grand-children of seventy-year residents.
I saw Dadaists driving drunk the wrong way on
10K gold-paved streets, killing dance masters,
like policemen gunning down painters as a form
of critique
I saw the Best Burrito Shop, The5th Amendment,
and Africa By The Bay run off The Ave; their places
Taken by caffeine shooting galleries and Boer beer
bars for rent refugees trekkking 13 miles, bringing
Butte with them.
I saw nextdoor.com Nazi-NSA impersonators circle
laager between OPD cruisers and string yellow tape
around drumming, dancing, BBQing, singing Gospel
and other verbs modified by the phrase: ââŚwhile Blackâ
Raymond Nat Turner Š 2015 All Rights Reserved
The idea that we can resolve racism by integrating a fundamentally anti-Black institution is the most absurd notion of all.
The Bureauâs COINTELPRO deployed every trick and crime in the book to crush left dissidents, from disruption to assassination.
This week the presidential election and the legacy of Paul Robeson were on your minds.
Politicians ignore at their peril the power of popular culture and its people-moving practitioners.
Facial masks and Black Lives Matter murals are part of the ever-changing panorama that shapes our perceptions of hierarchy, just as tall buildings do.
