This is my torture
   My long nights, lone
   Kin
   FOR BAILEY
   We were entwined in red rings
   Of blood and loneliness before
   The first snows fell
   Before muddy rivers seeded clouds
   Above a virgin forest, and
   Men ran naked, blue and black
   Skinned into the warm embraces
   Of Sheba, Eve and Lilith.
   I was your sister.
   You left me to force strangers
   Into brother molds, exacting
   Taxations they never
   Owed or could ever pay.
   You fought to die, thinking
   In destruction lies the seed
   Of birth. You may be right.
   I will remember silent walks in
   Southern woods and long talks
   In low voices
   Shielding meaning from the big ears
   Of overcurious adults.
   You may be right.
   Your slow return from
   Regions of terror and bloody
   Screams, races my heart.
   I hear again the laughter
   Of children and see fireflies
   Bursting tiny explosions in
   An Arkansas twilight.
   The Memory
   Cotton rows crisscross the world
   And dead-tired nights of yearning
   Thunderbolts on leather strops
   And all my body burning
   Sugar cane reach up to God
   And every baby crying
   Shame the blanket of my night
   And all my days are dying
   Still I Rise
   You may write me down in history
   With your bitter, twisted lies,
   You may trod me in the very dirt
   But still, like dust, I'll rise.
   Does my sassiness upset you?
   Why are you beset with gloom?
   ‘Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
   Pumping in my living room.
   Just like moons and like suns,
   With the certainty of tides,
   Just like hopes springing high,
   Still I'll rise.
   Did you want to see me broken?
   Bowed head and lowered eyes?
   Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
   Weakened by my soulful cries?
   Does my haughtiness offend you?
   Don't you take it awful hard
   ‘Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
   Diggin’ in my own backyard.
   You may shoot me with your words,
   You may cut me with your eyes,
   You may kill me with your hatefulness,
   But still, like air, I'll rise.
   Does my sexiness upset you?
   Does it come as a surprise
   That I dance like I've got diamonds
   At the meeting of my thighs?
   Out of the huts of history's shame
   I rise
   Up from a past that's rooted in pain
   I rise
   I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
   Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
   Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
   I rise
   Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
   I rise
   Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
   I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
   I rise
   I rise
   I rise.
   Ain't That Bad?
   Dancin’ the funky chicken
   Eatin’ ribs and tips
   Diggin’ all the latest sounds
   And drinkin’ gin in sips.
   Puttin’ down that do-rag
   Tightenin’ up my ‘fro
   Wrappin’ up in Blackness
   Don't I shine and glow?
   Hearin’ Stevie Wonder
   Cookin’ beans and rice
   Goin’ to the opera
   Checkin’ out Leontyne Price.
   Get down, Jesse Jackson
   Dance on, Alvin Ailey
   Talk, Miss Barbara Jordan
   Groove, Miss Pearlie Bailey.
   Now ain't they bad?
   An’ ain't they Black?
   An’ ain't they Black?
   An’ ain't they bad?
   An’ ain't they bad?
   An’ ain't they Black?
   An’ ain't they fine?
   Black like the hour of the night
   When your love turns and wriggles close to your side
   Black as the earth which has given birth
   To nations, and when all else is gone will abide.
   Bad as the storm that leaps raging from the heavens
   Bringing the welcome rain
   Bad as the sun burning orange hot at midday
   Lifting the waters again.
   Arthur Ashe on the tennis court
   Mohammed Ali in the ring
   André Watts and Andrew Young
   Black men doing their thing.
   Dressing in purples and pinks and greens
   Exotic as rum and Cokes
   Living our lives with flash and style
   Ain't we colorful folks?
   Now ain't we bad?
   An’ ain't we Black?
   An’ ain't we Black?
   An’ ain't we bad?
   An’ ain't we bad?
   An’ ain't we Black?
   An’ ain't we fine?
   Life Doesn't Frighten Me
   Shadows on the wall
   Noises down the hall
   Life doesn't frighten me at all
   Bad dogs barking loud
   Big ghosts in a cloud
   Life doesn't frighten me at all.
   Mean old Mother Goose
   Lions on the loose
   They don't frighten me at all
   Dragons breathing flame
   On my counterpane
   That doesn't frighten me at all.
   I go boo
   Make them shoo
   I make funWay they run
   I won't crySo they fly
   I just smile
   They go wild
   Life doesn't frighten me at all.
   Tough guys in a fight
   All alone at night
   Life doesn't frighten me at all.
   Panthers in the park Strangers in the dark
   No, they don't frighten me at all.
   That new classroom where
   Boys all pull my hair
   (Kissy little girls
   With their hair in curls)
   They don't frighten me at all.
   Don't show me frogs and snakes
   And listen for my scream,
   If I'm afraid at all
   It's only in my dreams.
   I've got a magic charm
   That I keep up my sleeve,
   I can walk the ocean floor
   And never have to breathe.
   Life doesn't frighten me at all
   Not at all
   Not at all.
   Life doesn't frighten me at all.
   Bump d'Bump
   Play me a game like Blind Man's dance
   And bind my eyes with ignorance
   Bump d'bump bump d'bump.
   Tell my life with a liquor sign
   Or a cooking spoon from the five-and-dime
   And a junkie reel in two/four time
   Bump d'bump bump d'bump.
   Call me a name from an ugly south
   Like liver lips and satchel mouth
   Bump d'bump bump d'bump.
   I'll play possum and close my eyes
   To your greater sins and my lesser lies
   That way I share my nation's prize
   Bump d'bump bump d'bump.
   I may be last in the welfare line
   Below the rim where the sun don't shine
   But getting up stays on my mind
   Bump d'bump bump d'bump.
   On Aging
   When you se 
					     					 			e me sitting quietly,
   Like a sack left on the shelf,
   Don't think I need your
   chattering. I'm listening to myself.
   Hold! Stop! Don't pity me!
   Hold! Stop your sympathy!
   Understanding if you got it,
   Otherwise I'll do without it!
   When my bones are stiff and aching,
   And my feet won't climb the stair,
   I will only ask one favor:
   Don't bring me no rocking chair.
   When you see me walking, stumbling,
   Don't study and get it wrong.
   ‘Cause tired don't mean lazy
   And every goodbye ain't gone.
   I'm the same person I was back then,
   A little less hair, a little less chin,
   A lot less lungs and much less wind.
   But ain't I lucky I can still breathe in.
   In Retrospect
   Last year changed its seasons
   subtly, stripped its sultry winds
   for the reds of dying leaves,
   let gelid drips of winter ice melt onto
   a warming earth and urged the dormant
   bulbs to brave the
   pain of spring.
   We, loving, above the whim of
   time, did not notice.
   Alone. I remember now.
   Just Like Job
   My Lord, my Lord,
   Long have I cried out to Thee
   In the heat of the sun,
   The cool of the moon,
   My screams searched the heavens for Thee.
   My God,
   When my blanket was nothing but dew,
   Rags and bones
   Were all I owned,
   I chanted Your name
   Just like Job.
   Father, Father,
   My life give I gladly to Thee
   Deep rivers ahead
   High mountains above
   My soul wants only Your love
   But fears gather round like wolves in the dark.
   Have You forgotten my name?
   O Lord, come to Your child.
   O Lord, forget me not.
   You said to lean on Your arm
   And I'm leaning
   You said to trust in Your love
   And I'm trusting
   You said to call on Your name
   And I'm calling
   I'm stepping out on Your word. You said You'd be my protection,
   My only and glorious saviour,
   My beautiful Rose of Sharon,
   And I'm stepping out on Your word.
   Joy Joy
   Your word.
   Joy Joy
   The wonderful word of the Son of God.
   You said that You would take me to glory
   To sit down at the welcome table
   Rejoice with my mother in heaven
   And I'm stepping out on Your word.
   Into the alleys
   Into the byways
   Into the streets
   And the roads
   And the highways
   Past rumor mongers
   And midnight ramblers
   Past the liars and the cheaters and the gamblers
   On Your word
   On Your word.
   On the wonderful word of the Son of God.
   I'm stepping out on Your word.
   Call Letters: Mrs. V. B.
   Ships?
   Sure I'll sail them.
   Show me the boat,
   If it'll float,
   I'll sail it.
   Men?
   Yes I'll love them.
   If they've got the style,
   To make me smile,
   I'll love them.
   Life?
   ‘Course I'll live it.
   Let me have breath,
   Just to my death,
   And I'll live it.
   Failure?
   I'm not ashamed to tell it,
   I never learned to spell it.
   Not Failure.
   Thank You, Lord
   I see You
   Brown-skinned,
   Neat Afro,
   Full lips,
   A little goatee.
   A Malcolm,
   Martin,
   Du Bois.
   Sunday services become sweeter when You're Black,
   Then I don't have to explain why
   I was out balling the town down,
   Saturday night.
   Thank you, Lord.
   I want to thank You, Lord,
   For life and all that's in it.
   Thank You for the day
   And for the hour and for the minute.
   I know many are gone,
   I'm still living on,
   I want to thank You.
   I went to sleep last night
   And I arose with the dawn,
   I know that there are others
   Who're still sleeping on,
   They've gone away,
   You've let me stay.
   I want to thank You. Some thought because they'd seen sunrise
   They'd see it rise again.
   But death crept into their sleeping beds
   And took them by the hand.
   Because of Your mercy,
   I have another day to live.
   Let me humbly say,
   Thank You for this day
   I want to thank You.
   I was once a sinner man,
   Living unsaved and wild,
   Taking my chances in a dangerous world,
   Putting my soul on trial.
   Because of Your mercy,
   Falling down on me like rain,
   Because of Your mercy,
   When I die I'll live again,
   Let me humbly say,
   Thank You for this day.
   I want to thank You.
   Another book for
   GUY JOHNSON
   and
   COLIN ASHANTI MURPHY JOHNSON
   Thanks to
   ELEANOR TRAYLOR
   for her radiance
   ELIZABETH PHILLIPS
   for her art
   RUTH BECKFORD
   for her constancy
   Awaking in New York
   Curtains forcing their will
   against the wind,
   children sleep,
   exchanging dreams with
   seraphim. The city
   drags itself awake on
   subway straps; and
   I, an alarm, awake as
   a rumor of war,
   lie stretching into dawn,
   unasked and unheeded.
   A Good Woman Feeling Bad
   The blues may be the life you've led
   Or midnight hours in
   An empty bed. But persecuting
   Blues I've known
   Could stalk
   Like tigers, break like bone,
   Pend like rope in
   A gallows tree,
   Make me curse
   My pedigree,
   Bitterness thick on
   A rankling tongue,
   A psalm to love that's
   Left unsung,
   Rivers heading north
   But ending South,
   Funeral music
   In a going-home mouth.
   All riddles are blues,
   And all blues are sad,
   And I'm only mentioning
   Some blues I've had.
   The Health-Food Diner
   No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
   And brussels in a cake,
   Carrot straw and spinach raw
   (Today, I need a steak).
   Not thick brown rice and rice pilau
   Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
   Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed
   (I'm dreaming of a roast).
   Health-food folks around the world
   Are thinned by anxious zeal,
   They look for help in seafood kelp
   (I count on breaded veal).
   No Smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
   Zucc 
					     					 			hini by the ton,
   Uncooked kale and bodies frail
   Are sure to make me run
   to
   Loins of pork and chicken thighs
   And standing rib, so prime,
   Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
   (I crave them all the time). Irish stews and boiled corned beef
   And hot dogs by the scores,
   Or any place that saves a space
   For smoking carnivores.
   A Georgia Song
   We swallow the odors of Southern cities,
   Fatback boiled to submission,
   Tender evening poignancies of
   Magnolia and the great green
   Smell of fresh sweat.
   In Southern fields,
   The sound of distant
   Feet running, or dancing,
   And the liquid notes of
   Sorrow songs,
   Waltzes, screams and
   French quadrilles float over
   The loam of Georgia.
   Sing me to sleep, Savannah.
   Clocks run down in Tara's halls and dusty
   Flags droop their unbearable
   Sadness.
   Remember our days, Susannah.
   Oh, the blood-red clay,
   Wet still with ancient
   Wrongs, and Abenaa
   Singing her Creole airs to
   Macon.
   We long, dazed, for winter evenings And a whitened moon,
   And the snap of controllable fires.
   Cry for our souls, Augusta.
   We need a wind to strike
   Sharply, as the thought of love
   Betrayed can stop the heart.
   An absence of tactile