Black Agenda Report
Black Agenda Report
News, commentary and analysis from the black left.

  • Home
  • Africa
  • African America
  • Education
  • Environment
  • International
  • Media and Culture
  • Political Economy
  • Radio
  • US Politics
  • War and Empire
  • omnibus

Red Salute to Cousin, Comrade Wayne Pharr
Raymond Nat Turner, BAR poet-in-residence
17 Sep 2014
🖨️ Print Article

Red Salute to Cousin, Comrade Wayne Pharr

by BAR poet-in-residence Raymond Nat Turner

Lil’ L.A. cats playing army,
Make believe battlefields,
Backyard theaters of war
Rough and tumble, mannered
Boys, 3 meals a day, 0 body fat,
No phone bill, fun and innocent days—
Cousins ‘Billy,’ ‘Stevie,’ ‘Mikey,’ and
Ronald—sons of steel workers, school
Cafeteria workers, carpenters, mariners,
Maids, teachers and real community
Organizers we could look up to and believe in

 

‘Billy’/ Wayne had army men, and
Played imaginatively, played intensely— 
Ron loved coffee cans he played before 
Bongos entered his life, before he’d circle the globe
Slapping Gon-Bop & LP drums; I loved to rhyme at the
Time; and Steve, Steve loved baseballs, gloves
Bats, leading to his contract with the Yankees…

Living on 81st and 83rd Streets between Avalon and
Central we learned the Devil wore dark blue, not red,
Delivered hell up South, out South in black and white
Cars, and dying wasn’t necessary for seeing his pale,
Hate-deformed face—three or even four times a day…

Slauson Village ‘The Vee-LA” was like 
Fanny Lou Hamer’s sick and tired of being tired!
Tired of the LAPD occupation army tasked to
“Protect and serve” apartheid: Beat-downs, frame-ups 
Keeping Black men and women without work, bellies growling,
Tired of ‘testi-lying,’ the smog curtain concealing crimes
Like police murders of Ronald Stokes, Leonard Deadwyler,
Gregory Clark, and others, tired of Hollywood sci-fi 
Lies that made Octavia Butler blush—cars lurching forward 
Causing ‘service’ revolvers to “…accidentally discharge,” “…furtive movement,”
“…reaching in his waistband,” “…brandishing a knife,” “…becoming combative” lies

Even as a lil’ boy, Wayne had a Jones for justice and
Fairness and was never cool with bullies, it’s no mystery
He too grew tired, grew into a soldier, warrior
Not an olive green, G.I. Joe, plastic plaything 
We ambushed, blew up, in the backyard, not a Karangatang
Robot, pork chop nationalist provocateur, punching, kicking,
Shooting servants of the people; Wayne became a soldier
Organizer of BSUs, free breakfast programs, clinics, a speaker,
Debater, agitator for self-defense, Revolution, Power to the People,
Soldier in black beret and leather jacket, who grew like a
Bunch of greens, the Tommy Lewis, Masai Hewitt* crew,
Bunchy Carter core coming from Wayne’s Auntie Caffie Greene’s
Teen Post, 79th and Central Avenue— Bunchy called it ‘The Stem’ 

December 8, 1969 41st & Central—wild boars, SWAT,
Didn’t batter down doors to bring beer to the party and
Discuss perils of policing, as Rose Garden Negroz do; terrorist
Murderers came to kill Wayne, Peaches, Cotton, Roland, Tommye,
Redd and the others in their sleep, like they’d murdered
Mark Clark and Fred Hampton in Chicago, days before; the
Pigs didn’t come by 1s, didn’t come by 2s, didn’t come by 
10s—they came 300— thousands of rounds and reinforcements

Wayne couldn’t get out, but then again, they couldn’t get in…
He was “Free at last,” like Frederick Douglass on the road
Escaping the plantation, free like General Tubman leading her
Charges to Canada, taking marching orders from the North Star

5 hours freedom in his 64 years on the planet…5 hours,
5 hours and he’d savor every second, relish for a lifetime
Peoples’ Servant of Steel,
Truth-teller, author, historian, father, esteemed elder—
Not bad for a lil’ L.A. cat who played army with his cousins 
In his backyard; Not bad for a lil’ L.A. cat with 9 lives…

He needed a heart, but we couldn’t just rip open, unzip,
Un-bolt hollow chests of his torturers, his captors—
Thugs who choked him under color of law, fired thousands of rounds,
Through cover of darkness, fog of surprise, to halt his work—
We couldn’t just pull their puny, mustard seed hearts…their
Miniature tickers, they are far too tiny to fill the crater of
His big black bayou heart—really, we believed if anything
In this world was, “Too big to fail”—it would be Wayne’s heart…

Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at Raymond (at) upsurgejazz.com
Raymond Nat Turner Š 2014 All Rights Reserved

Do you need and appreciate Black Agenda Report articles? Please click on the DONATE icon, and help us out, if you can.


More Stories


  • Editors, The Black Agenda Review
    EDITORIAL: Centenary of Negro Emancipation, Marcus Garvey, 1934
    30 Jul 2025
    “When the American and West Indian Negroes get to know their history…they will have a greater love for the African through whom they have sprung.”
  • Ann Garrison, BAR Contributing Editor
    Zionists Accuse Yves Engler of Genocide Denial
    30 Jul 2025
    The Canadian branch of B'nai B'rith has accused author, activist, and political candidate Yves Engler of genocide denial.
  • Jon Jeter
    Betraying Howard Zinn: How the White Left Uses Scholarship to Undermine Black/White Solidarity
    30 Jul 2025
    Howard Zinn showed that scholarship can fuel solidarity and liberation—but now, some white leftists use it to undermine Black struggle.
  • Anthony Karefa Rogers-Wright
    Breaking it Down with Barron: The New York City Mayoral Race, New York City Politics, and a Primer for an Independent Black Revolutionary Polity
    30 Jul 2025
    Charles Barron dissects the NYC mayoral race, Mamdani’s struggles with Black voters, and why independent Black radical politics are essential.
  • Raymond Nat Turner, BAR poet-in-residence
    Killing the Kennedy Center softly for the Reich?
    30 Jul 2025
    "Killing the Kennedy Center softly for the Reich?" is the latest from BAR's Poet-in-Residence.
  • Load More
Subscribe
connect with us
about us
contact us