2018

2018

I am an American and reluctantly admit
we’re an embarrassment because of that Twit
Why can’t I be Paris-from or Belizean  or Brit?
with no wannabe Erdogan tweeting Holy Writs

But I’m a U.S. guy queasily ashamed
I can’t deny I was too easily framed
Like you, currying favor with complacency
While they found a savior – too late we see

And now we pay our dues rise from the dead
Losing our blues coloring blue skies on red
But let us not get careless and casual with hate
And remember America – crazy racist stupid..…. Is…well…great

“The past is never dead, it’s not even past”
Therein lies the thread of how a life can last
Here are just a few who came this far
Each life imbued with this is who we are

Otis Rush b. 1935

  

Otis “I Can’t Quit You Baby” Rush
Painful phrasing languid  lush
Sharecrop mom Mississippi raised
To Chicago gone Willie Dixon praised

This kid’s left-handed smoldering fire
Fate demanded he climb no higher
(doors were closed, debt, disaster)
Than inspiration to who came after

Otis “But I got to put you down for awhile” Rush
Wasn’t his style but when God said “Hush”
Reluctant guitar returned to the case
Broken-down bars glad for his grace 

Gertrude Jeannette  b. 1914

Ran away from Arkansas, became a young wife
Stammered with  a Southern drawl so led a quiet  life
American Negro Theater offered therapy for speech
Then acting lessons lead her to a world once out of reach

Where’d she get the cash needed for flawless elocution?
She learned to drive a taxi  (girls just want inclusion!)
She starred in Broadway plays, directed and she wrote
Worked with Belafonte, Poitier, till Hollywood took note

But Harlem kept its hold on her they held each other tight
she had dignity down cold and sure could light the night
She retired at ninety-eight no stuttered celebration
Impediments are not fate but  mothers of salvation

Vic Damone  b. 1928

Italian immigrant parents gave him love for song
A son’s gift apparent  he would sing along
Everyone’s second favorite crooner,  that was not debated
He had a better sense of humor  felt fame was overrated

The shadow of Sinatra inescapable but Damone was content
Good thing –  mobsters capable to cobble shoes cement
Blue Eyes would sometimes slip in – the Rat Pack on his wing
“Shut up guys and listen – this guy knows how to sing!”

Sinatra, Bennett, Martin, Como, Damone, et al
Children of immigrants!  Someone build a wall!
Artists are like Joshua playing to a base
This is all God could want: no Jericho is safe

Margot Kidder b.1948

Her Lois Lane was funny, distracted and restrained
For Superman I paid my money but it was her image that remained
He was stronger faster and Holy Christ he could fly
But maybe that’s why they cast her – she equalized with eyes

A charismatic activist who embodied “Don’t ignore me”
But we didn’t know the half of it – a life chaotic stormy
Her final act of expression – no longer would she suffer
The fact of depression: some do not recover

Ntozake Shange b. 1948

every 3 minutes a woman is beaten
every five minutes a woman is raped
every ten minutes a lil girl is molested
yet I rode the subway today.

What else is there to say?

“For Colored Girls…”  was but a small fraction
Of her wondrous world a call to action
For poets, playwrights, dancers who lacked
A basic birthright (because female and black):

an audience a stage a way to be heard
For calling out rage with waves of words
Words will perform what they are asked
They wail and warn and take off our masks  

Linda Brown b. 1943

To be in Topeka Kansas.
Wait…it gets worse.
You live there
And worse
You are a girl. You are black.
It’s fucking 1954! Kansas!
But wait it gets better
There is a grade school
Right down the street.
You can walk to school!
Wait….it gets worse
Only whites can attend.
Oh no.
Wait…it gets better!
Dad says no fucking way
And better – he sues
And better – he wins
Separate but equal is no more
But wait. It gets worse
States ignore law and
Then continue to find novel
Ways to foster racism.
It gets better
It gets worse

Mac Miller b. 1992

I fear nothin’ on this
odyssey of dark roads
God lives in my dog’s soul
the devil in his dog bowl

mischievous rapper party-starter
Subject tone turned much darker
jazz/soul inflected beat
Drugs depression hit repeat

He wrote, recorded, produced, rapped
Success afforded a life entrapped
Sparkled shimmered created heat
Drugs depression hit repeat

Anne V. Coates b. 1925

Her work was to make decisions about what landed on the floor
Her perilous precision demanded that less is always more
Lawrence of Arabia – thirty miles of film to screen
Ann Coates was the savior to the  likes of David Lean

A craft with a modesty credo so who would choose to edit?
The director says “Make it so the audience will get it”
And she did – shot by shot and the vision is intact
a genius was she not? Even Schwarzenegger could act

Wait! Wasn’t she a foreigner and thus totally unfit?
Yeah but  lay off scorn for her – She was born a Brit
Oh Anne please come back!  Your gift could make the diff
Our movie is way off  track and we’re drifting off a cliff

The Others

Brothers mothers sisters fathers
Held to each other and sailed on the waters
Queen of Soul steps off the throne
Who’ll fill that role and make it her own?

Roth, Le Guin write final chapters
Laverne makes it Big in the hereafter
Marty Balin starts the Airplane descent
They all lead the way where we will be sent

Oh America bountiful you shaped these lives
Prairies and mountains and boundless skies
It is yours and mine and no room to doubt
We will not be defined by who we keep out

There are but two names that trump all the rest
Despite what is claimed, they sent us their best

Felipe Gomez Alonzo

Jakelin Caal