Posts Tagged ‘There is one Love and one Hate.’

In Response to “Contradicting Contradictions”

Tuesday, April 30th, 2013

Where was this passion all semester?! I feel as if spoken-word should be performed exactly the way each author performs it. I’m almost afraid to label it a performance. Speaking a poem rather than having to type it in print opens the door for emotions to be free. When I read Sylvia Plath and Amiri Baraka poetry I can see their passion in their words and punctuation on the page and attempt to read each piece as active as they may read it if they had the opportunity to let their emotions be wild and free on stage. I don’t think I know about the Staceyann Chin performance that you are talking about. To say that Staceyann is  “acting” like an angry black women is to judge and marginalize her performance, to remove Staceyann Chin from her piece, and to throw her into an archetype of an “angry black woman”: this is where I find the issue. I would say that Stacey Chin is being an angry Stacey Chin. The closed mindedness is when to categorize and lable wild free emotions to help you understand it. You basically put the wild free emotion back in a cage when you use “acting like an angry black woman” as a description of art.  I wanted to talk about the saxophone player that most likely looked forward to having the honor of playing along with Amiri Baraka.  However, I do feel that Amiri chose to have a white saxophonist to add to the message of the poem. The poem that we watch by Amiri Baraka broke the allowance of white people, in this country, to always be free from guilt. While they blame the colored people that live in this country (not just black people).  The class fell right back into what Amiri Baraka was trying to break.  The white man became the victim and Amiri Baraka was laughed at.  I wasn’t surprised. Consider Kanye West’s video with the white ballerinas (do u think those ballerina were unfortunate too) and the black people as civilized having dinner(Kanye west took it a step past black and white because even the black people wouldnt accept the women he brought to dinner because she was different and wanted to lable her as weird and strange because of their closed mindeness.) The same point was trying to be made by Amiri I would guess to have the white people do the work and perform for black people for once.  But if we go as far as to say that it was strategic by Amiri Baraka we already begin to criminalize him because we are saying that it was premeditated.  So Molly I must say that I do have a problem with you “nearly ripping your hair out when Amiri hooed like an owl.”  You did not understand the symbolic significance of the owl within the context of the poem so your closed mind could only laugh to set you free from your mental prison as Amiri Baraka successfully got under your skin and aggravated you. I’m sure there are more unfortunate saxophone players out there.  I was very disappointed how the class responded to Amiri Baraka’s poem how we weren’t as open minded as we act. Now look at Kanye West’s Video After we saw Amiri Baraka where will your brain take you.

In Response to “A Far Cry From Africa”

Wednesday, April 17th, 2013

I personified Africa as is it were crying from a far in, “A Far Cry From Africa”

In the first four lines of the poem Walcott describes the terrain and the state of Africaand how like the Kikuyu, who have an agricultural economy, other countries like America have benefitted from African people or Africa’s natural resources like diamonds and coffee.  If other countries would have left Africa alone there would probably be less corpses scattered through the paradise. “Only the worm, colonel of carrion, cries”: Colonel-a French and English word, parts of Africa have been colonized by the French, English nation have stolen Africans. Carrion-Anglo French word as well meaning rotting flesh. Colonels of carrion are the worm. Think of an apple with a worm in it borrowing through destroying the entire apple for its own health. Colonels of Carrion cry out, “Waste no compassion on these separate dead.” Clinton did not save Africans as soon as he could, many countries turn a blind eye to Africa and their troubles and consider Africa dead already. “Statistics justify and scholars seize”- Do not underestimate the half meanings in this poems, they speak for themselves. “The salient of colonial policy”- colonial to me goes back to the British embarking on the new world, pushing the natives out and setting up shop on new land, colonialism is the begininning of a rotting apple due to a worm that is colonialism. The term color white is innocents not the race in the first stanza: “What is that to the white child hacked in bed?” “To savages, expendable as Jews?”: similar to how Jews were murdered in the Holocaust.  Africa has been “threshed out by beaters” and the white dust from the beating of Africa spreads like white birds(ibises) whose cries have wheeled since the dawn of civilization where all humans come from. The uprightman seeking his divinity (spread of Christianity) by inflicting pain. “While he calls courage still that native(natives dread what he calls courage)/ dread of the white peace(white peace-death) contracted by the dead.”

“Again brutish necessity wipes its hands/ upon the napkin of a dirty cause, again/ a waste of compassion, as with Spain,/ the gorilla wrestles with the superman.”-gorilla, a wild or native animal that must be colonized by a white superman. At least Walcott curses the drunken officer of British rule. Walcott does not betray both, he gives back what they give through poems like this. How can he have both forces dwell in him and not be enraged? He asks, How can we turn from Africa and live?


Saturday, March 23rd, 2013

Morning time mourning until The

sun begins dawning then I start

my yawning and soon comes the gnaw-

ing like something is pawing.  Sharp

talons scar my talents and I

feel cornered but the coroner

will not come.  Good! My food will be

thought.  Will not think of how I fought

but how I won.  When I became

One with the One who salvages

the savages roaming for a

home: nomads who are mad no more

moving forward for a ward, not

the awards: that material

matter, gets you high then makes you

sadder.  In the former you look

for more.  In the latter you climb

the ladder above the things that

pull you down.  Gravity is real

but how do you feel?  You can heal.

Lady Lazarus…Really?

Tuesday, March 12th, 2013

I am not much of a history buff and my ancestors are slaves(well somewhat I think all black folk are mixed by now if you were born in the U.S. lately my great grandmother was half-white), so I loved getting the Holocaust lesson during class on Monday. I have been to the Holocaust Museum, however. Watched all of Schindler’s List and I got the horrific gist of what occurred. I’ve made my efforts. Once upon a time  I took a funny course and we decide what was funny and what wasn’t. No dying babies! no catholic jokes! and no Holocaust ha ha’s! I was left with a choice should I shout slavery and follow suit. No, I decided that slavery was “ash, ash-” you can poke and stir it is old bone, there is nothing there. You won’t take responsibility and I don’t expect you to.

However, “for the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge.” One day I sat in the colored section rather than appeasing the abolished apartheid. Words were shouted “Is that little Africa over there?”, I responded “not to be confused with South Africa”, where the great white Cape Hope of Johannesburg is right next to true poverty. I loved that class with all my heart. One of the best experiences of my life, but I might have failed it. I didn’t have to go that far. How far is the White House from the Southeast? Go just a couple blocks and you’ll see where they slang rocks.

Anyway, “Lady Lazarus”, is something of a persona poem, I hear. I wrote something to that affect when I wrote “The V is Silent.” I had just seen Django and was moved and decided to keep moving and write my piece of work. If you have seen the movie you will see it in the poem.  I first wanted it to be completely free verse, then I wanted it to be an English Sonnet with a black bonnet. Then I abolished apartheid and kind of did both by making each line 10 syllables. After class Monday, I wish I would have made it 8.

I’d like to examine a few lines of “Lady Lazarus”, if I may.  I have read parts of the bible but i didn’t retain the stories well, I don’t remember nursery rhymes either. I do remember Mulan, Pinochio, and The Hook. I know that Lazarus was a bad child or just made bad choices or had a hard time understanding what Jesus was trying to teach and he wanted to kill Jesus all the while and Jesus told him to make haste and do what he knew he was going to do rather than waiting. I feel as if Plath knew she was going to kill herself so she made haste and decided to take it into her own hands “one and every ten.”


An appropriate section for this sort of post:

A sort of walking miracle, my skin

Bright as a Nazi lampshade,

My right foot


A paperweight,

My face a featureless, fine

Jew linen.


Peel off the napkin

O my enemy.

Do I terrify?-


P.s. Her father’s foot was amputated because of untreated diabetes.