Red Salute to Cousin, Comrade Wayne Pharr
by BAR poet-in-residence Raymond Nat Turner
Lilâ 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 daysâ
Cousins âBilly,â âStevie,â âMikey,â and
Ronaldâsons of steel workers, school
Cafeteria workers, carpenters, mariners,
Maids, teachers and real community
Organizers we could look up to and believe in
âBillyâ/ Wayne had army men, and
Played imaginatively, played intenselyâ
Ron loved coffee cans he played before
Bongos entered his life, before heâd 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 YankeesâŚ
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 wasnât necessary for seeing his pale,
Hate-deformed faceâthree or even four times a dayâŚ
Slauson Village âThe Vee-LAâ was like
Fanny Lou Hamerâs sick and tired of being tired!
Tired of the LAPD occupation army tasked to
âProtect and serveâ apartheid: Beat-downs, frame-ups
Keeping Black men and women without work, bellies growling,
Tired of âtesti-lying,â 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 blushâcars lurching forward
Causing âserviceâ revolvers to ââŚaccidentally discharge,â ââŚfurtive movement,â
ââŚreaching in his waistband,â ââŚbrandishing a knife,â ââŚbecoming combativeâ lies
Even as a lilâ boy, Wayne had a Jones for justice and
Fairness and was never cool with bullies, itâs 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 Wayneâs Auntie Caffie Greeneâs
Teen Post, 79th and Central Avenueâ Bunchy called it âThe Stemâ
December 8, 1969 41st & Centralâwild boars, SWAT,
Didnât 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 theyâd murdered
Mark Clark and Fred Hampton in Chicago, days before; the
Pigs didnât come by 1s, didnât come by 2s, didnât come by
10sâthey came 300â thousands of rounds and reinforcements
Wayne couldnât get out, but then again, they couldnât get inâŚ
He was âFree at last,â 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 planetâŚ5 hours,
5 hours and heâd savor every second, relish for a lifetime
Peoplesâ Servant of Steel,
Truth-teller, author, historian, father, esteemed elderâ
Not bad for a lilâ L.A. cat who played army with his cousins
In his backyard; Not bad for a lilâ L.A. cat with 9 livesâŚ
He needed a heart, but we couldnât just rip open, unzip,
Un-bolt hollow chests of his torturers, his captorsâ
Thugs who choked him under color of law, fired thousands of rounds,
Through cover of darkness, fog of surprise, to halt his workâ
We couldnât just pull their puny, mustard seed heartsâŚtheir
Miniature tickers, they are far too tiny to fill the crater of
His big black bayou heartâreally, we believed if anything
In this world was, âToo big to failââit would be Wayneâs heartâŚ
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at Raymond (at) upsurgejazz.com
Raymond Nat Turner Š 2014 All Rights Reserved
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