“Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom
of night stays these courageous couriers from
the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”
--Herodotus
Through staffing/scheduling sabotage—
Overthrow of overtime, 10 and 12 hour
shifts, double routes and delivery delays
Through tens of thousands of thousands
of pieces of paper and cardboard, where
the lethal virus likes to loiter hours at a
time…
Through the unbolting of bright blue mail-
boxes from cool corners we love, and their
their hijacking on lowered lift gates of flat-
bed trucks…
Through the looting of 700 Mail Sorting
Machines—sorting 35,000 pieces of mail
per hour
Through the slowing of snowmobiles in Alaska—
mules in the Grand Canyon…To the banging of
pots and pans, chanting and singing—this time
Our early morning missive of resistance:
Neither blitzkrieg of predatory privatizers—
anthrax thug board of gangsters—
Walking conflicts of interest, dumb damagers,
wrecker-puppet ‘postmaster,’nor a stalling Banana
Republican Kentucky turtle—nor his Dem getaway
drivers will rob us of our beloved Postal Service!
My love for USPS comrades inside feels ancient,
Diving in day shift rivers, rushing out relieved;
swing shift seas, flooding in resolved: Delivering
Revolutionary literature monthly: 7th and Wood:
Oakland; and Richmond’s Bulk Mail Center…
And even before that, nervously awaiting
letters like lifesaving medicines; Letters
letting me escape
devilish City of Angels rule, for school away;
Letters welcoming me to California Arts Council;
Love letters/fresh baked cookies from a future wife—
No wonder I nearly pimp slapped and kicked to the
curb those sneering “snail mail” as Email crowned?
Yesterday, I spoke postal banking with our
fit, sunned Oakland Filipino Letter Carrier.
His bright smile exploded through his mask…
Today, I tease our curly-top Harlem Letter
Carrier—crisp white shirt, curvy gray pants,
navy blue stripe down each leg— “I’ve got an
80 lb. box for you!” She Sistar-Gurls me: I’m
Fresh out of luck. We laugh, shifting to USPS’s
Banking, voting, testing, contact tracing future…
© 2020. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.
‘Postmaster’ Disaster
(Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!)
Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!
Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!
The rotting foods, flies and rats
The late rent checks, piles of flats
He took the job to sack and loot—
Privatizing’s at the root!
Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!
Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!
Slowed delivery, stole machines
For the yachts and limousines
A mega-donor, hatchet man
He’s a bot for Koch’s plan…
Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!
Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!
Union-buster crackin’ the whip
Drunken captain groundin’ the ship
Another move in the fascist coup—
Grab the handcuffs and bid him adieu!
Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!
Louie, Louie—he gotta GO!
We said he gotta GO—
We said he gotta GO—now…
Poet’s note: inspired by the late great Richard Berry’s “Louie, Louie.”
© 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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It’s difficult not to imagine that the secret plan is to sell WBAI’s license. “Most people support Pacifica because it’s community radio.”
Black people cannot change white people’s warped perceptions of the world, although, Lord knows, we’ve tried.
We play America’s longest running game, Trauma Trivia—gambling blue— Daily, weekly, monthly, annually—decades, Centuries at a time…We play it again and
Black political power is gained by expanding independent Black political institutions and bases around agendas not endorsed by the ruling elite.
They came into his own home and took his life for no reason.
