Thursday, January 9, 2014
Amiri Baraka, October 7, 1934 - January 9, 2014
It has been reported that legendary poet/play write/activist Amiri Baraka has died. Rather than write any further, I figured I'd just share one of his poems in this space. It's not one of my favorites, or even one of his best, but I randomly opened the book Transbluesency and this appeared. To read a local New Jersey write up about Baraka, click here. To read an article that Saul Williams wrote about Amiri Baraka in 2004, click here.
By Amiri Baraka
(for Calvin Hernton and Ishmael Reed)
The corrupt madness of the individual. You cannot live
alone. You are in the world. World, fuck them. World rise
and twist like you do, night madness in rain as heavy as stones.
Alabama gypsy talk, for peeling lips. Look in your mother's head,
if you really want to know everything. Your sister's locked up
pussy. Invasion of the idea syndrome like hand clapping winter in.
Winter will make you move. Or you will freeze in Russia and
never live to see Napoleon as conceived by Marlon Brando.
We are at the point where death is too good for us. We are
in love with the virtue of evil. This communication. Rapping
on wet meat windows, they spin your head, if I kill you
will not even have chance to hate me.
Rest In Power Amiri Baraka. Prayers go out to his family and loved ones.