Madness & Poets (For Marvin X).
|Publication:||Name: Journal of Pan African Studies Publisher: Journal of Pan African Studies Audience: Academic Format: Magazine/Journal Subject: Social sciences Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2010 Journal of Pan African Studies ISSN: 0888-6601|
|Issue:||Date: Dec, 2010 Source Volume: 4 Source Issue: 2|
Ayodele Nzingha is a poet, playwright, actress, producer, and
director. She directed Marvin X's In the Name of Love, Laney
College, 1981, and One Day in the Life, 1997-2002. She now operates her
own theatre in West Oakland, the Lower Bottom Playaz. She recently
produced and directed August Wilson's Gem of Ocean, Opal
Adisa's Bathroom Graffiti Queen and Marvin X's Flowers for the
Trashman, Graffiti Queen, and Ayo's Mama at Twilight were featured
at the San Francisco Theatre Festival, 2010.
Madness & Poets (For Marvin X) All poets are mad Baba. It's in the saying of unsayables the seeing the unseen mad from murals of mundaneness masquerading as meaning we tag truth in acid with lethal pens we carve epiphany on the heaving breast of humanity hear me: I am Godz voice, you see? Mad. Crazed with grief lack of sleep poems keep knocking screaming howling accusations insisting on justice or blood and the terrible knowledge they may be the same. Knowing its ill to be well in insanity we are religiously mad listening to the jokes Godz tell about the planz men make we invoke open eyes amongst the blind literate itinerants healing wounds stapled with the gutz of prophetz whose spines have been broken open so poems can be stitched to their cleaved carcasses. Poets grow in the recesses of society's bowels deep in the world's shit we spin beauty in the beast to soothe the savage someone should dance now like poets spin daring poems to be dervishes. The trajectory of a poem spit with accuracy resembles lyrical alchemy turning impossible into the color blue. I am a poet long past caring about disposed scholars who lie in standard English we break tense like fences that separate us from them: flow oceanic if you ain't up on it long tongue ju ju poets say soothes somber inelegant truths salvaged from graveyards laureates go hard, sharp spiters are split at the larynx hurling neologisms like clever hexes some like sharks eat the open mic & spit back silk stitched caresses. In words we are invested & you said the devil is in the language so sometimes it be ebonics we stay hooked on phonics & known to slam in spanglish poets float but don't drift past tipping points blaze in smokin joints bent on makin points angels dance on pointed tongues bleeding metaphors & poetry ain't the whore its poets who crush lyric on temple floors its poets who commit commissioned sins in the name of the mortgage. Loosely intercoursing textually he said: the poems have left the building stop texting me, but I can't because words are like sex to me I'm mesmerized by poetry's ejaculation I trick without hesitation love it passionately ain't no reservations even when it dogs me I'm stuck in the relationship It's good I don't trip without poetry's caress my wig would slip I'd blow up not a little but a lot of shit poetry is my drug of choice & my weapon I keep a full clip I'm poetry's bitch & I'm good with this. Baba all poets are mad. On this we can agree Grand Baba Amiri & you & like fruit & trees I guess I be mad too.
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