------mere
It happened on July 13th who can forget
A black-out that showed the poor how to Fete
Abe Beam is mad--Con- Ed is to be blamed
The Big apple is in trouble once again
Con- Ed made a promise back in Sixty-Five
The City would never face a black-out that's no jive
Twenty years later the City is in the dark
Twenty odd hours then Con-Ed got off the mark
people were shopping in the middle of the night
with cars and trucks--they took everything in sight
the Tombs were closed no mummies to be seen
Now it is filled with those who did not break clean
The cops were on patrol on the riot night
Taking in the scene as if in total delight
They knew the Rich and they knew the poor
Those who had courage had to protect their store
This Black-out they say was sent by a witch
She left most business clearly in the ditch
Over three thousand people were arrested
Now the jails must truly be infested
But one smart thief broke out of his cell
He never had intentions to continue life in hell
Some say most storeowners will rip off the poor
But this black-out certainly even out the score
Copyright © 7- 13- 77 by Michael Ramsay
All rights reserved
The Negro Speaks of Rivers
(to W.E.B. DuBois)
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancients as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn golden in the sunset.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
All rights reserved
The Black Poets:
Copyright 1971 by Dudley Randall
I looked and I saw
That man they called the Law.
He was coming
Down the street at me!
I had visions in my head
Of being laid out cold and dead,
Or else murdured
By the third degree.
I said, O, Lord, if you can,
Save me from that man!
Don't let him make a pulp out of me!
But the Lord he was not quick.
The Law raised up his stick
And beat the living hell
Out of me!
Now I do not understand
Why God don't protect a man
From police brutality.
Being poor and black,
I've no weapon to strike back
So who but the Lord
Can protect me?
We'll see.
All rights reserved
The Black Poets: Copryright 1971
by Dudley Randall
WE ARE NOT LOVERS
BECAUSE OF THE
LOVE WE MAKE, BUT
THE LOVE WE HAVE
WE ARE NOT FRIENDS
BECAUSE OF THE
LAUGHS WE SPEND,
BUT THE TEARS WE SAVE.
I DO NOT WANT TO
BE NEAR YOU FOR
THE THOUGHTS WE
SHARE, BUT THE WORDS
WE NEVER HAVE TO SPEAK.
I WILL NEVER MISS
YOU BECAUSE OF
WHAT WE ARE TOGETHER.
All rights reserved
NIKKI GIOVANI.
THURSDAY, JUNE 20, 1991.
