of just one show and go just one place where some doe-doe dupaduke
won’t say “just sing one song, please”
nobody mentions how it feels to become a freak
because you have talent and how
no one gives a damn how you feel
but only cares that aretha franklin is here like maybe that’ll stop:
chickens from frying
eggs from being laid
crackers from hating
and if you say you’re lonely or scared or tired how they always
just say “oh come off it” or “did you see
how they loved you did you see huh did you?”
which most likely has nothing to do with you anyway
and i’m not saying aretha shouldn’t have talent and i’m certainly
not saying she should quit
singing but as much as i love her i’d vote “yes” to her
doing four concerts a year and staying home or doing whatever
she wants and making records cause it’s a shame
the way we are killing her
we eat up artists like there’s going to be a famine at the end
of those three minutes when there are in fact an abundance
of talents just waiting let’s put some
of the giants away for a while and deal with them like they have
a life to lead
Aretha doesn’t have to relive billie holiday’s life doesn’t have
to relive dinah washington’s death but who will
stop the pattern
she’s more important than her music—if they must be
separated—
and they should be separated when she has to pass out
before
anyone recognizes she needs
a rest and i say i need
aretha’s music
she is undoubtedly the one person who put everyone on
notice
she revived johnny ace and remembered lil green aretha sings “i say a little prayer” and dionne doesn’t
want to hear it anymore
aretha sings “money won’t change you”
but james can’t sing “respect” the advent
of Aretha pulled ray charles from marlboro country
and back into
the blues made nancy wilson
try one more time forced
dionne to make a choice (she opted for the movies)
and diana ross had to get an afro wig pushed every
Black singer into Blackness and negro entertainers
into negroness you couldn’t jive
when she said “you make me/feel” the blazers
had to reply “gotta let a man be/a man”
aretha said “when my soul was in the lost and found/you came along to claim it” and joplin said “maybe”
there has been no musician whom her very presence hasn’t
affected when humphrey wanted her to campaign she said
“woeman’s only hueman”
and he pressured james brown
they removed otis cause the combination was too strong
the impressions had to say “lord have mercy/we’re moving on up”
the Black songs started coming from the singers on stage and the dancers
in the streets
aretha was the riot was the leader if she had said “come
let’s do it” it would have been done temptations say why don’t we think about it
think about it
think about it
Revolutionary Dreams
i used to dream militant
dreams of taking
over america to show
these white folks how it should be
done
i used to dream radical dreams
of blowing everyone away with my perceptive powers
of correct analysis
i even used to think i’d be the one
to stop the riot and negotiate the peace
then i awoke and dug
that if i dreamed natural
dreams of being a natural
woman doing what a woman
does when she’s natural
i would have a revolution
Walking Down Park
walking down park
amsterdam
or columbus do you ever stop
to think what it looked like
before it was an avenue
did you ever stop to think
what you walked
before you rode
subways to the stock
exchange (we can’t be on
the stock exchange
we are the stock
exchanged)
did you ever maybe wonder
what grass was like before
they rolled it
into a ball and called
it central park
where syphilitic dogs
and their two-legged tubercular
masters fertilize
the corners and side-walks
ever want to know what would happen
if your life could be fertilized
by a love thought
from a loved one
who loves you
ever look south
on a clear day and not see
time’s squares but see
tall Birch trees with sycamores
touching hands
and see gazelles running playfully
after the lions
ever hear the antelope bark
from the third floor apartment
ever, did you ever, sit down
and wonder about what freedom’s freedom
would bring
it’s so easy to be free
you start by loving yourself
then those who look like you
all else will come
naturally
ever wonder why
so much asphalt was laid
in so little space
probably so we would forget
the Iroquois, Algonquin
and Mohicans who could caress
the earth
ever think what Harlem would be
like if our herbs and roots and elephant ears
grew sending
a cacophony of sound to us
the parrot parroting black is beautiful black is beautiful
owls sending out whooooo’s making love…
and me and you just sitting in the sun trying
to find a way to get a banana tree from one of the monkeys
koala bears in the trees laughing at our listlessness
ever think it’s possible
for us to be
happy
Kidnap Poem
ever been kidnapped
by a poet
if i were a poet
i’d kidnap you
put you in my phrases and meter
you to jones beach
or maybe coney island
or maybe just to my house
lyric you in lilacs
dash you in the rain
blend into the beach
to complement my see
play the lyre for you
ode you with my love song
anything to win you
wrap you in the red Black green
show you off to mama
yeah if i were a poet i’d kid
nap you
The Genie in the Jar
(for Nina Simone)
take a note and spin it around spin it around don’t
prick your finger
take a note and spin it around
on the Black loom on the Black loom
careful baby
don’t prick your finger
take the air and weave the sky
around the Black loom around the Black loom
make the sky sing a Black song sing a blue song
sing my song make the sk
y sing a Black song
from the Black loom from the Black loom
careful baby
don’t prick your finger
take the genie and put her in a jar
put her in a jar
wrap the sky around her
take the genie and put her in a jar
wrap the sky around her
listen to her sing
sing a Black song our Black song
from the Black loom
singing to me
from the Black loom
careful baby
don’t prick your finger
All I Gotta Do
all i gotta do
is sit and wait
sit and wait
and it’s gonna find
me
all i gotta do
is sit and wait
if i can learn
how
what i need to do
is sit and wait
cause i’m a woman
sit and wait
what i gotta do
is sit and wait
cause i’m a woman
it’ll find me
you get yours
and i’ll get mine
if i learn
to sit and wait
you got yours
i want mine
and i’m gonna get it
cause i gotta get it
cause i need to get it
if i learn how
thought about calling
for it on the phone
asked for a delivery
but they didn’t have it
thought about going
to the store to get it
walked to the corner
but they didn’t have it
called your name
in my sleep
sitting and waiting
thought you would awake me
called your name
lying in my bed
but you didn’t have it
offered to go get it
but you didn’t have it
so i’m sitting
all i know
is sitting and waiting
waiting and sitting
cause i’m a woman
all i know
is sitting and waiting
cause i gotta wait
wait for it to find
me
The Game Of Game
when all the cards are in
when all the chips are counted
the smiles smiled
the pictures taken
i wonder
if they’ll say
you played a fair
game
of game?
Master Charge: Blues
it’s wednesday night baby
and i’m all alone
wednesday night baby
and i’m all alone
sitting with myself
waiting for the telephone
wanted you baby
but you said you had to go
wanted you yeah
but you said you had to go
called your best friend
but he can’t come ’cross no more
did you ever go to bed
at the end of a busy day
look over and see the smooth
where your hump usta lay
feminine odor and no reason why
i said feminine odor and no reason why
asked the lord to help me
he shook his head “not i”
but i’m a modern woman baby
ain’t gonna let this get me down
i’m a modern woman
ain’t gonna let this get me down
gonna take my master charge
and get everything in town
The Lion In Daniel’s Den
(for Paul Robeson, Sr.)
on the road to damascus
to slay the christians
saul saw the light
and was blinded by that light
and looked into the Darkness
and embraced that Darkness
and saul arose from the great white way
saying “I Am Paul
who would slay you
but I saw the Darkness
and I am that Darkness”
then he raised his voice
singing red black and green songs
saying “I am the lion
in daniel’s den
I am the lion thrown to slaughter”
do not fear the lion
for he is us
and we are all
in daniel’s den
For A Lady of Pleasure Now Retired
some small island birthed
her and a big (probably) white ship took her
from mother to come
to america’s recreation
she lives in the top of my building
i only know her through her eyes
she is old now not only from years
but from aging
one gets the impression she was most
beautiful and like good wine
or a semiprecious jewel touted out
for the pleasure of those
who could afford
her recreation
her head is always high
though the set of her mouth shows
it’s not easy
she asks nothing
seems to have something
to give but no one to give it
to if ever she gave it
to anyone
age requires happy memories like louvenia smiled
when she died and though her doctor had told her not
to there was pork cooking
on the stove
there are so many new mistakes
for a lady of pleasure
that can be made it shouldn’t be
necessary to repeat the old
ones
and it was cold
on the elevator that morning
when i spoke to her and foolishly asked
how are you
she smiled and tilted her head
at least, i said, the sun is
shining
and her eyes smiled yes
and i was glad to be
there to say through spirits
there is a new creation
to her
2nd Rapp
they ain’t gonna never get
rap
he’s a note turned himself
into a million songs listen
to aretha call
his name
he’s a light
turned himself into our homes
look how well we see
since he came
he’s a spirit turned
pisces to aries
alpha to omega
he’s a man
turned himself into Black
women
and we turn little hims
loose on the world
A Robin’s Poem
if you plant grain
you get fields of flour
if you plant seeds
you get grass
or babies
i planted once
and a robin red breast flew
in my window
but a tom cat wouldn’t let it
stay
Alabama Poem
if trees could talk
wonder what they’d say
met an old man
on the road late after noon
hat pulled over to shade
his eyes
jacket slumped over his
shoulders
told me “girl! my hands seen
more than all
them books they got
at Tuskegee”
smiled at me
half waved his hand
walked on down the dusty road
met an old woman
with a corncob pipe
sitting and rocking
on a spring evening
“sista” she called to me
“let me tell you—my feet
seen more than yo eyes
ever gonna read”
smiled at her and kept
on moving
gave it a thought and went
back to the porch
“i say gal” she called down
“you a student at the institute?
better come here and study
these feet
i’m gonna cut a bunion off
soons i gets up”
i looked at her
she laughed at me
if trees would talk
wonder what they’d tell me
Poem For Unwed Mothers
(to be sung to “The Old F.U. Spirit”)
it was good for the virgin mary
it was good enough for mary
it was good for the virgin mary
it’s good enough for me
Chorus
12 Gates: To The City
the white man is
nocturnal that’s why
he wants to get to the moon
it’s his rising sign
he’s a vampire see
how he strikes between
dusk and dawn preying
on us day light
comes he has to be back
in his casket or office as
they call them now but
dracula would be quite comfortable
if the cracker were natural then the by
products from his body would grow
natural plants like when we are
buried flowers grow see
the stones that spring up among
their dead
nothing violates nature all
the time and even white
people came south for warmth
when the ice age hit
europe
christians should note that
it was ice water and now
fire cause the cracker is playing
with atomic matches
The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni Page 9