The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni

by Nikki Giovanni

  didn’t do it

  a negro needs to kill

  something

  trying to record

  that this country must be

  destroyed

  if we are to live

  must be destroyed if we are to live

  must be destroyed if we are to live

  Adulthood

  (For Claudia)

  i usta wonder who i’d be

  when i was a little girl in indianapolis

  sitting on doctors’ porches with post-dawn pre-debs

  (wondering would my aunt drag me to church sunday)

  i was meaningless

  and i wondered if life

  would give me a chance to mean

  i found a new life in the withdrawal from all things

  not like my image

  when i was a teen-ager i usta sit

  on front steps conversing

  the gym teacher’s son with embryonic eyes

  about the essential essence of the universe

  (and other bullshit stuff)

  recognizing the basic powerlessness of me

  but then i went to college where i learned

  that just because everything i was was unreal

  i could be real and not just real through withdrawal

  into emotional crosshairs or colored bourgeois

  intellectual pretensions

  but from involvement with things approaching reality

  i could possibly have a life

  so catatonic emotions and time wasting sex games

  were replaced with functioning commitments to logic

  and

  necessity and the gray area was slowly darkened into

  a Black thing

  for a while progress was being made along with a certain

  degree

  of happiness cause i wrote a book and found a love

  and organized a theatre and even gave some lectures on

  Black history

  and began to believe all good people could get

  together and win without bloodshed

  then

  hammarskjo¨ld was killed

  and lumumba was killed

  and diem was killed

  and kennedy was killed

  and malcolm was killed

  and evers was killed

  and schwerner, chaney and goodman were killed

  and liuzzo was killed

  and stokely fled the country

  and le roi was arrested

  and rap was arrested

  and pollard, thompson and cooper were killed

  and king was killed

  and kennedy was killed

  and i sometimes wonder why i didn’t become a

  debutante

  sitting on porches, going to church all the time,

  wondering

  is my eye make-up on straight

  or a withdrawn discoursing on the stars and moon

  instead of a for real Black person who must now feel

  and inflict

  pain

  From a Logical Point of View

  I mean it’s only natural that if

  water seeks its own level

  The honkie would not bother with

  Viet Nam

  It’s unworthy of him

  Cause they are not ready

  for the revolutionary

  advanced technology

  that america is trying

  to put on them

  and nothing is worse

  than a

  dream deferred

  It’s just those simple

  agrarian people

  trying to invoke

  simple land

  reform

  and maybe bring

  a new level

  of consciousness

  to their people

  And here america is

  trying

  to teach them

  how to

  read and

  write

  and be

  capitalists

  when it’s fairly obvious

  to the naked

  untrained

  eye

  that they aren’t

  ready

  for meaningful

  change

  and the revolution

  is only

  in the honkies’

  mind

  I mean

  if it was me

  I wouldn’t

  try to enlighten

  those

  slant-eyed

  bastards

  who only want

  to sing and

  dance

  and be happy

  all the time

  I would have had enough fooling

  around with niggers

  I mean really

  if I had at my

  disposal

  a means to get

  out of this world

  I’d go

  and let those un

  grateful

  coloreds

  try to get

  along

  without

  me

  Dreams

  in my younger years

  before i learned

  black people aren’t

  suppose to dream

  i wanted to be

  a raelet

  and say “dr o wn d in my youn tears”

  or “tal kin bout tal kin bout”

  or marjorie hendricks and grind

  all up against the mic

  and scream

  “baaaaaby nightandday

  baaaaaby nightandday”

  then as i grew and matured

  i became more sensible

  and decided i would

  settle down

  and just become

  a sweet inspiration

  Revolutionary Music

  you’ve just got to dig sly

  and the family stone

  damn the words

  you gonna be dancing to the music

  james brown can go to

  viet nam

  or sing about whatever he

  has to

  since he already told

  the honkie

  “although you happy you better try

  to get along

  money won’t change you

  but time is taking you on”

  not to mention

  doing a whole

  song they can’t even snap

  their fingers to

  “good god! ugh!”

  talking bout

  “i got the feeling baby i got the feeling”

  and “hey everybody let me tell you the news”

  martha and the vandellas dancing in the streets

  while shorty long is functioning at that junction

  yeah we hip to that

  aretha said they better

  think

  but she already said

  “ain’t no way to love you”

  (and you know she wasn’t talking to us)

  and dig the o’jays asking “must i always be a stand in

  for love”

  i mean they say “i’m a fool for being myself”

  While the might mighty impressions have told the

  world

  for once and for all

  “We’re a Winner”

  even our names—le roi has said—are together

  impressions

  temptations

  supremes

  delfonics

  miracles

  intruders (i mean intruders?)

  not beatles and animals and white bad things like

  young rascals and shit

  we be digging all

  our revolutionary music consciously or un

  cause sam cooke said “a change is gonna come”

  Beautiful Black Men

  (With compliments and apologies to all not mentioned by name)

  i wanta say just gotta say something

&
nbsp; bout those beautiful beautiful beautiful outasight

  black men

  with they afros

  walking down the street

  is the same ol danger

  but a brand new pleasure

  sitting on stoops, in bars, going to offices

  running numbers, watching for their whores

  preaching in churches, driving their hogs

  walking their dogs, winking at me

  in their fire red, lime green, burnt orange

  royal blue tight tight pants that hug

  what i like to hug

  jerry butler, wilson pickett, the impressions

  temptations, mighty mighty sly

  don’t have to do anything but walk

  on stage

  and i scream and stamp and shout

  see new breed men in breed alls

  dashiki suits with shirts that match

  the lining that complements the ties

  that smile at the sandals

  where dirty toes peek at me

  and i scream and stamp and shout

  for more beautiful beautiful beautiful

  black men with outasight afros

  Woman Poem

  you see, my whole life

  is tied up

  to unhappiness

  it’s father cooking breakfast

  and me getting fat as a hog

  or having no food

  at all and father proving

  his incompetence

  again

  i wish i knew how it would feel

  to be free

  it’s having a job

  they won’t let you work

  or no work at all

  castrating me

  (yes it happens to women too)

  it’s a sex object if you’re pretty

  and no love

  or love and no sex if you’re fat

  get back fat black woman be a mother

  grandmother strong thing but not woman

  gameswoman romantic woman love needer

  man seeker dick eater sweat getter

  fuck needing love seeking woman

  it’s a hole in your shoe

  and buying lil’ sis a dress

  and her saying you shouldn’t

  when you know

  all too well—that you shouldn’t

  but smiles are only something we give

  to properly dressed social workers

  not each other

  only smiles of i know

  your game sister

  which isn’t really

  a smile

  joy is finding a pregnant roach

  and squashing it

  not finding someone to hold

  let go get off get back don’t turn

  me on you black dog

  how dare you care

  about me

  you ain’t got no good sense

  cause i ain’t shit you must be lower

  than that to care

  it’s a filthy house

  with yesterday’s watermelon

  and monday’s tears

  cause true ladies don’t

  know how to clean

  it’s intellectual devastation

  of everybody

  to avoid emotional commitment

  “yeah honey i would’ve married

  him but he didn’t have no degree”

  it’s knock-kneed mini-skirted

  wig wearing died blond mamma’s scar

  born dead my scorn your whore

  rough heeled broken nailed powdered

  face me

  whose whole life is tied

  up to unhappiness

  cause it’s the only

  for real thing

  i

  know

  Ugly Honkies, or

  The Election Game and How to Win It

  ever notice how it’s only the ugly

  honkies

  who hate

  like Hitler was an ugly dude

  same with lyndon

  ike nixon hhh wallace maddox

  and all the governors of mississippi

  and you don’t ever see a good-looking

  cop

  perhaps this only relates to the physical

  nature of the beast

  at best interesting for a beast

  and never beautiful

  by that black standard

  if dracula came to town now

  he’d look like daley

  booing senator ribicoff

  no pretty man himself

  but at least out of the beast

  category

  yet all had to describe julian bond

  as the handsome black legislator

  which is, of course, redundant

  life put muskie and huskie humphrey

  on the cover

  and we were struck by a thought:

  “if we must be screwed—they could at least be pretty”

  but the uglies kill

  all the pretties

  like john and bobby

  and evers and king

  and if caroline don’t look

  out she’ll be next

  arthur miller spoke of the white things

  jumping wildly on their feet

  banging their paws together

  hating the young

  only this time they were hating

  their young

  a salute to the chicago kids

  now you and the world knows

  we weren’t lying

  a cracked skull in time

  may save mine

  (though i doubt it)

  and hhh says we ought to quit pretending

  what daley did was wrong

  We aren’t pretending

  We didn’t give a damn

  you guys ought to get yourselves

  together

  eating your kids is a sexual

  perversion

  the politics of ’68 remind us grievously

  of the politics of ’64

  the deal to put the bird

  and his faggoty flock in the white nest

  (which began in dallas)

  is being replayed and repaid

  (the downpayment being made in los angeles)

  with tricky dicky to win this time

  (the final payment chicago)

  cause there’s only two parties in this country

  anti-nigger and pro-nigger

  most of the pro-niggers are now dead

  this second reconstruction is being aborted

  as was the first

  the pro-niggers council voting

  the anti-niggers have guns

  if we vote this season we ought to seek to make it

  effective

  the barrel of a gun is the best

  voting machine

  your best protest vote

  is a dead honkie

  much more effective than a yes

  for gregory or cleaver

  this negative bullshit

  they run on us

  is to tie us up in identification

  “you don’t want nixon-agnew do you?”

  “well vote for humphrey-muskie”

  but all you honkies are alien

  to me

  and i reject the choice

  it’s the same game they run

  about nigeria

  “whose side are you on?”

  the black side, fool

  how many times must i show that?

  taking sides is identifying

  and that is commitment

  be committed to us

  and don’t deal with them

  as long as we choose one evil over another

  (on some bullshit theory that it’s lesser)

  we’ll have bullshit evil to deal with

  let’s build a for real black thing

  called revolution

  known to revolutionists as

  love

  the obvi
ous need is a new liberal white party

  to organize liberal and radical honkies

  this will lessen but not remove the clear and present

  danger

  to us

  we need to continue our fight to control

  all of america

  honkies are just not fit to rule

  these are sorry but true facts—not one honkie is fit to

  rule

  the worst junkie or black businessman is more humane

  than the best honkie

  no black person would have allowed

  his troops to be so slaughtered

  and before you scream “king king”

  his promise was your picture in the paper

  and your head in bandages

  mccarthy (the administration’s official dissident

  candidate)

  was not so honest

  there are those who say he began with lyndon’s blessings

  and the promise of good speaking engagements

  and since we have witnessed the assassination of one who

  didn’t need the money

  or have the blessing

  we are inclined to agree

  and daley talked of teddy not making up his mind

  he said no

  that’s pretty definite

  only it’s sad that once again

  we have a chance we aren’t fully

  utilizing

  the honkies are at war to decide what to do

  about us

  and here we are

  trying to get

  into what every sensible person should be running

  from

  when we integrated the schools

  they began moving away from public education

  when we integrated the churches

  they started the god is dead bit

  now we’re integrating politics

  and they’re moving to a police state

  we ought to beat them to the punch

  and pull off our coup

  and take over, with arms and everything necessary,

  our communities

  post-election note:

  those of us breathing easy now that wallace

  wasn’t elected

  check again

  that’s gas you’re smelling

  survival is still the name of the game

  black people still our only allies

  life or death still our only option

  let’s me and you do that thing

  please?