Papa’s proud of you, handsome
Grandsons, for hand-lettered
signs, for taking to the streets
during your generation’s 10
days that shook the world!
I’m proud of your militant mugs,
masked, concealing righteous
anger and dangerous emotional
Literacy your Mom gifted you…
You’re the fourth generation—
batting cleanup, B. So, let’s see
what you two can do…
Papa was on a picket line at nine—
went door-to-door with a ream as a
Teen. So, if you ask me, I’ll tell you:
It’s not a sprint, Cam. It’s a
Marathon with ten thousand twists,
turns, exponential ebbs and flows;
And there’s no victory line…
Rather than “the talk,” I’ll warn:
BOLO: Be On the Look Out
for nips,’roid rage, sadism under
color of law.
Rather than “the talk,” I’ll quiz
you on the rotten orchard of A
Few Bad Apples.
“Clubber” Williams,
“Choker” Vasquez,
“Chokehold” Johnson,
Jude “The Foot Doctor” Sipano—
have you heard of them?
Have you heard of
Ramparts,
The Riders,
STRESS,
Jump Out Boys,
or Dirty Thirty?
Have you heard of
“War bags” with baggies of knives and dope
and throwaway guns with filed-off serial #s?
Have you heard of
“put a case on,” “catch a case?”
Have you heard of
fake commands— “Stop resisting!”
“Show your hands!” “Drop the gun!”?
Have you heard of
“Ten-ring,” or the term “Testi-lie?”
Have you heard of
“Slick Willy,” “Tricky Dick,” “The Little
Magician,” “Mike and Ike,” good cop-
bad cop, the carrot and stick, the iron
fist beneath the velvet glove, force and
Deception?
“Thoughts and prayers,” “I feel your pain,”
“meaningful legislation,” “senseless killings?”
Have you heard of the State?
It’s not neurosurgery or rocket science
In its complex simplicity.
But for some it can become an enigma
wrapped in a riddle, shrouded in superstition
Hmm, where to begin?
Let’s begin where this ends: hoping for time to
continue…
© 2020. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
Mo’ Foul Play
Stevie can see and so could Brother Ray
our loved ones wouldn’t go out this way
simply give up in Strange Fruit spaces—
Never mind crakkker stars straight faces
The first thing the friendly sheriff did say
Er…it looks like there was “no foul play…”
And the coroner, detectives ZPD and FBI
Swear up and down that they wouldn’t lie
But history teaches us that kops and klan
Work hand in hand with an ol’ master plan
with bloody brethren hunt men and women
for roles Strange Fruit stuntmen and women
While sleazy senators hold up a lynching law
but the camel’s back broke before this straw
dumb devils never stop mighty street heat
Even hanging tens of thousands by their feet
© 2020. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
BAR’s poet in residence Raymond Nat Turner is an accomplished performing artist. You can find much more of his work at http://upsurgejazz.com .
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