i met john at my second birthday party
(the first one was legacy and i hanging off of
a bar talking girl talk and waiting for scari to come spin)
john has the E best sense of humor
and would like to know
what you think about his poems.
so
be verbose.
i think its some of the best writing, clear
concise and poetic, which is like
a lexus with leather seats that
is parked in a heated garage.
yeah.
that kind of poetry
*******************
Un-Wise
9 Eleven Crises?
9 Eleven Lies.
A patriot act
by a cunning Congress
pretending to be panicked.
A patriot act
by an insincere Senate,
less loyal to its citizens
than Brutus was to Caesar.
A patriot act
by a President who says he
asks for your votes, then
does not have
the courage to count them.
A patriot act
that introduces the rest of America
to how life is lived being Black.
Being
guilty first
and guilty last.
Being free
to roam
about the prison yard.
Being free
to peddle dope
on your mamas street corner.
Being free
to be declared
a threat to humanity
by being defined
as something less than human,
today an enemy combatant,
yesterday a piece of white property.
9 Eleven Crises?
9 Eleven Lies.
Spoken by
supporters of W.
Where
were you Ws?
When
heroin delivery trucks
parked next to Air Force One?
Where
were you Ws?
When
Amadou Diallou
was falling to the floor, dead?
Where
were you Ws?
When you knew
the only mass weapons
existed in silos in New Mexico?
I hear you Ws,
on the
unemployment line
proclaiming your patriotism.
I hear you Ws,
in your
Faith-based bread line,
standing there
because W outsourced your job.
I hear you Ws,
saying George delivered you
from niggers,
while he treats you
like niggers
and the brainwashing is so complete,
you Ws dont know the letter Y.
John Reynolds III
2005
Savor the Salt (of the Earth)
Squirrel,
lives on Gladstone,
brought his Sweetie a lump of salt.
A ghetto delicacy to eat with their acorns.
Sweetie pie squirrel eats the salt,
her stomach explodes.
Squirrel,
performs CPR,
then squeals for help
nearly getting hit by a car.
No help arrives, his Sweetie dies.
Sweetie is eulogized
by the alley cat, all black.
The stray dogs are bodyguards,
The robin sings, goodbye.
Mourners! Escaped gerbils.
Mourners! Stray dogs.
The jazzy alley cat comforts Squirrel
as a sparrow sings, Goodbye.
Squirrel,
peers from behind dark glasses,
says he is moving away from Gladstone.
Wants to live in his habitat, the woods.
Grosse Pointe. Woods.
Harper. Woods.
Huntington. Woods.
will settle for a quiet block on Woodingham
where people dont drop
rocks of cocaine.
Where rocks of cocaine
dont masquerade as salt.
Squirrel,
wants to live quietly in the Woods,
where cars stop when you cross the street
and boys and girls feed you delicacies
in fancy feeders from pet stores.
in fancy feeders neatly placed
on a bed of October leaves.
John Reynolds III
2006
For Natalie Cole and our Ancestors
I saw a beautiful sister
with an a capella choir
at a football game
singing The Star Spangled Banner
singing what Francis Scott Key
couldnt hear when he wrote that poem
and that angers people
and they booed.
Francis Scott didnt intend
for his song to be sung
that way, Americans say. Sung?
The anthem was a poem in 1814.
O say can you see?
Arriving ships-full
of black people in chains.
The dawns early light?
Exposes Americas hypocrisy
to herself and her neighbors.
The land of the free?
Unless you are from Africa,
or otherwise black.
The home of the brave?
Citizens run around under white sheets
at night.
Were Mr. Keys eyes
closed to slavery in 1814?
We survive slavery and lynching
and illiteracy and economic paralysis
we survive self-hate and world wars
and civil war and the war on drugs
in our yards front and back
we survive a nations lies
to stand in front of
Jim Crows descendants
and sing Keys anthem
and put into the poem
what Francis Scott omitted.
and get booed.
by
someone wearing
an American flag as a headwrap
expressing American displeasure
at the knowledge that America
is not in charge
has never been in charge
and has no charge
to usurp Gods authority.
So they boo.
and Natalie smiles
and struts away, flanked
by the a capella choir
and I laugh out loud
and I write.
John Reynolds III
2006
(the first one was legacy and i hanging off of
a bar talking girl talk and waiting for scari to come spin)
john has the E best sense of humor
and would like to know
what you think about his poems.
so
be verbose.
i think its some of the best writing, clear
concise and poetic, which is like
a lexus with leather seats that
is parked in a heated garage.
yeah.
that kind of poetry
*******************
Un-Wise
9 Eleven Crises?
9 Eleven Lies.
A patriot act
by a cunning Congress
pretending to be panicked.
A patriot act
by an insincere Senate,
less loyal to its citizens
than Brutus was to Caesar.
A patriot act
by a President who says he
asks for your votes, then
does not have
the courage to count them.
A patriot act
that introduces the rest of America
to how life is lived being Black.
Being
guilty first
and guilty last.
Being free
to roam
about the prison yard.
Being free
to peddle dope
on your mamas street corner.
Being free
to be declared
a threat to humanity
by being defined
as something less than human,
today an enemy combatant,
yesterday a piece of white property.
9 Eleven Crises?
9 Eleven Lies.
Spoken by
supporters of W.
Where
were you Ws?
When
heroin delivery trucks
parked next to Air Force One?
Where
were you Ws?
When
Amadou Diallou
was falling to the floor, dead?
Where
were you Ws?
When you knew
the only mass weapons
existed in silos in New Mexico?
I hear you Ws,
on the
unemployment line
proclaiming your patriotism.
I hear you Ws,
in your
Faith-based bread line,
standing there
because W outsourced your job.
I hear you Ws,
saying George delivered you
from niggers,
while he treats you
like niggers
and the brainwashing is so complete,
you Ws dont know the letter Y.
John Reynolds III
2005
Savor the Salt (of the Earth)
Squirrel,
lives on Gladstone,
brought his Sweetie a lump of salt.
A ghetto delicacy to eat with their acorns.
Sweetie pie squirrel eats the salt,
her stomach explodes.
Squirrel,
performs CPR,
then squeals for help
nearly getting hit by a car.
No help arrives, his Sweetie dies.
Sweetie is eulogized
by the alley cat, all black.
The stray dogs are bodyguards,
The robin sings, goodbye.
Mourners! Escaped gerbils.
Mourners! Stray dogs.
The jazzy alley cat comforts Squirrel
as a sparrow sings, Goodbye.
Squirrel,
peers from behind dark glasses,
says he is moving away from Gladstone.
Wants to live in his habitat, the woods.
Grosse Pointe. Woods.
Harper. Woods.
Huntington. Woods.
will settle for a quiet block on Woodingham
where people dont drop
rocks of cocaine.
Where rocks of cocaine
dont masquerade as salt.
Squirrel,
wants to live quietly in the Woods,
where cars stop when you cross the street
and boys and girls feed you delicacies
in fancy feeders from pet stores.
in fancy feeders neatly placed
on a bed of October leaves.
John Reynolds III
2006
For Natalie Cole and our Ancestors
I saw a beautiful sister
with an a capella choir
at a football game
singing The Star Spangled Banner
singing what Francis Scott Key
couldnt hear when he wrote that poem
and that angers people
and they booed.
Francis Scott didnt intend
for his song to be sung
that way, Americans say. Sung?
The anthem was a poem in 1814.
O say can you see?
Arriving ships-full
of black people in chains.
The dawns early light?
Exposes Americas hypocrisy
to herself and her neighbors.
The land of the free?
Unless you are from Africa,
or otherwise black.
The home of the brave?
Citizens run around under white sheets
at night.
Were Mr. Keys eyes
closed to slavery in 1814?
We survive slavery and lynching
and illiteracy and economic paralysis
we survive self-hate and world wars
and civil war and the war on drugs
in our yards front and back
we survive a nations lies
to stand in front of
Jim Crows descendants
and sing Keys anthem
and put into the poem
what Francis Scott omitted.
and get booed.
by
someone wearing
an American flag as a headwrap
expressing American displeasure
at the knowledge that America
is not in charge
has never been in charge
and has no charge
to usurp Gods authority.
So they boo.
and Natalie smiles
and struts away, flanked
by the a capella choir
and I laugh out loud
and I write.
John Reynolds III
2006
