Now and Then
Page 8
Old fashioned Ghetto codes saw phone
conversations like this:
‘Hey, Bree-is-other me-is-an? You goin’ to the
pe-is-arty to ne-is-ite?’
Oh, yeah! Well, why not bring me a nee-is-ickel
be-is-ag? You dig?’
I know who ever they was paying at the time to
listen in on my calls had to be scratchin’ his head
sayin’, ‘Dot-dot-dit-dit-dot-dot-dash.’ (Damned if
I know!)
But as to the letter ‘c.’ If it reminds you of cash money, there is a definite connection. The C.I.A. was responsible for the transfer of $400,000,000 to one Howard Hughes. This $400,000,000 (give or take a million or two) was to be used for a covert salvaging mission at sea, to be undertaken by a Hughes seacraft, the Glo-Mar Challenger. This salvage craft would be used to recover a Russian submarine that sank in 1968. The reason the recovery of this submarine was so important to our government was because of the Russian codes on board.
The Russian sub had allegedly broken into three pieces somewhere in the Pacific (which is almost like saying somewhere on the planet Earth). The Glo-Mar located the sub and proceeded to salvage it with, we believe, a giant magnet.
The magnet went down and recovered the first third of the Russian sub, containing some seventy dead Russian sailors. (No advantage there. Considering the sizeable sum allocated and the zero rubles put forth by the Kremlin.) The second part of the sub to be brought to the surface had two Polaris-styled nuclear warheads on board. (No real advantage there. This country has already stockpiled sufficient nuclear weapons to have damn near one bomb for every individual. These recovered Russian weapons could not have made the $400 million difference.) Then comes the strange part of the operation. As preparations were being made to recover the third and final part, the part with the all-important code books on board, questions began to bubble to the surface.
‘The Russian sub went in 1968, right?’
‘We’ve been trying to find those code books for almost six years now, right?’
‘When you lose your code books, don’t you change your codes?’
‘If they’ve changed their codes, why did we spend all that money?’ ‘Dot-dot-dit-dit-dot-dot-dash.’ (Damned if I know.)
But perhaps your personal problems do not revolve around cash. Perhaps the ‘c’ will remind you of Cuba. There was a C.I.A. co-ordinated invasion of Cuba at the Bay of Pigs. The invasion was a total failure, but it did reveal clues that had to do with an assassination attempt on a man whose name starts with ‘c’ – Castro.
The ‘c’ might remind you of Chile. Over eight million American dollars were spent there by the C.I.A. to help overthrow and destroy a man named Salvador Allende who just happened to be a ‘c’ – communist.
The ‘c’ might remind you of the Canal. The Panama Canal. The covert base established in Panama by the C.I.A. to institute plans for ‘c’ – Columbia eventually led to the destruction of ‘c’ – Che Guevara.
The ‘c’ might remind you of the Congo. The Belgian Congo. Before Zaire was there, there were revolutionary factions brooding in Katanga province. In 1960, there was a statement from a Black leader indicating the possible requeste d’intervention from the Soviet Union shortly before a coup d’etat that left him dead of assassination. His name? Patrice Lumumba.
A string of questions with few answers. Problems with few solutions like: ‘Was that Lee Harvey Oswald over there? Or in that corner? Was he 5’8”, 165 pounds or 6’2”, 205? Was he photographed for his passport in Dallas or was that Moscow?
Arthur Bremmer. Was he from Massachusetts, Michigan or Maryland? Was he captured in the midwest or the Middle East? And if they always have a photo of them before they commit these crimes, why can’t they stop them?’ ‘Dot-dot-dit-dit-dot- dot-dash.’ (Damned if I know.)
There seems to have been a stream of too many unanswered questions that always had tracks leading back to the same doorway.
JFK. You believe that?
RFK. You believe that?
MLK. You believe that?
Malcolm X. You believe that?
All some elaborate ‘c’ – Coincidence?
Or just a little old ‘c’ – Conspiracy?
There are several questions concerning the letter
‘c,’ this most important of letters, that most individuals
should be asking themselves:
‘The C.I.A …. who runs that organization?’
And, ‘Who runs this country?’
‘Dot-dot-dit-dit-dot-dot-dash.’ (Damned if I know!)
BICENTENNIAL BLUES
Some people think that America invented the blues
and few people doubt that America is the home of the blues.
And the bluesicians have gone all over the world carrying the
blues message and the world has snapped its fingers and tapped
its feet right along with the blues folks, but
the blues has always been totally American.
As American as apple pie.
As American as the blues.
As American as apple pie.
The question is why …
why should the blues be so at home here?
Well, America provided the atmosphere
America provided the atmosphere for the blues and the blues was born.
The blues was born on the American wilderness,
The blues was born on the beaches where the slave ships docked,
born on the slave man’s auction block
The blues was born and carried on the howling wind.
The blues grew up a slave.
The blues grew up as property.
The blues grew up in Nat Turner visions.
The blues grew up in Harriet Tubman courage.
The blues grew up in small town deprivation.
The blues grew up in the nightmares of the white man.
The blues grew up in the blues singing of Bessie and Billie and Ma.
The blues grew up in Satchmo’s horn, on Duke’s piano
in Langston’s poetry, on Robeson’s baritone.
The point is … that the blues is grown.
The blues is grown now – fully grown and you can
trace
the evolution of the blues on a parallel line
with the evolution of this country.
From Plymouth Rock to acid rock.
From 13 states to Watergate,
The blues is grown, but not the home.
The blues is grown, but the country has not.
The blues remembers everything the country forgot.
It’s a Bicentennial year and the blues is
celebrating a birthday, and it’s a Bicentennial blues.
America has got the blues and it’s a Bicentennial edition.
The blues view may amuse you but make
no mistake – it’s a Bicentennial year.
A year of hysterical importance
A year of historical importance:
ripped-off like donated moments from the past.
Two hundred years ago this evening.
Two hundred years ago last evening, and what about now?
The blues is now.
The blues has grown up and the country has not.
The country has been ripped-off!
Ripped-off like the Indians!
Ripped-off like jazz!
Ripped-off like nature!
Ripped-off like Christmas!
Manhandled by media over-kill,
Goosed by aspiring Vice Presidents.
Violated by commercial corporations – A Bicentennial year
The year the symbol transformed into the B-U-Y-centennial.
Buy a car.
Buy a flag.
Buy a map … until the public en masse has been
bludgeoned into
Bicentennial submission
or Bicentennial suspicion.
I fall into the latter c
ategory …
It’s a blues year and America
has got the blues.
It’s got the blues because of
partial deification of
partial accomplishments over a
partial period of time.
Half-way justice.
Half-way liberty.
Half-way equality.
It’s a half-ass year
and we would be silly in all our knowledge,
in all our self-righteous knowledge
When we sit back and laugh and mock the things
that happen in our lives;
to accept anything less than the truth
about this Bicentennial year.
And the truth relates to two hundred years of
people and ideas getting by!
It got by George Washington!
The ideas of justice, liberty and equality got cold
by George Washington.
Slave owner general!
Ironic that the father of this country
should be a slave owner.
The father of this country a slave owner
having got by him
it made it easy to get by his henchmen,
the creators of this liberty,
who slept in bed with the captains of the slave
ships,
Fought alongside Black freed men in the Union Army,
and left America a legacy of hypocrisy.
It’s blues year.
Got by Gerald Ford!
Oatmeal Man.
Has declared himself at odds with people
on welfare … people who get food stamps,
day care children, the elderly, the poor, women
and
people who might vote for Ronald Reagan.
Ronald Reagan — it got by him. Hollyweird!
Acted like an actor
acted like a liberal
acted like General Franco, when he acted like
Governor of California.
Now he acts like somebody might vote for him
for President.
It got by Jimmy Carter,
‘Skippy.’
Got by Jimmy Carter and got by him and his
friend
the Colonel … the creators of southern fried
triple talk,
A blues trio.
America got the blues.
It got by Henry Kissinger
the international Godfather of peace.
A Piece of Vietnam!
A Piece of Laos!
A Piece of Angola!
A Piece of Cuba!
A blues quartet and America got the blues.
The point is that it may get by you
for another four years
for another eight years … you stuck playing
second fiddle in a blues quartet.
Got the blues looking for the first principle
which was justice.
It’s a blues year for justice.
It’s a blues year for the San Quentin Six, looking
for justice.
It’s a blues year for Gary Tyler, looking for justice.
It’s blues year for Rev. Ben Chavis, looking for
justice.
It’s a blues year for Boston, looking for justice.
It’s a blues year for babies on buses,
It’s a blues year for mothers and fathers with
babies on buses.
It’s a blues year for Boston and it’s a blues year
all over this country.
America has got the blues and the blues is
in the street looking for three principles—
justice, liberty, equality.
We would do well to join the blues looking for
justice, liberty, and equality.
The blues is in the street.
America has got the blues but don’t let it get by us.
MESSAGE TO THE MESSENGERS
Hey yeah, we’re the same brothers from a long time ago
We was talkin’ about television and doin’ it on the radio
What we did was to help our generation realize
They got to get out there and get busy
’Coz it wasn’t gonna be televised.
We got respect for young rappers and the way they free wayin’
But if you goin’ to be teaching folks things, be sure you know what you sayin’
Older folks in our neighbourhood got plenty of ‘know how’
Remember if it wasn’t for them
You wouldn’t be out there now.
And I ain’t coming at you with no disrespect
All I’m sayin’ is that you damn well got to be correct.
Because if you goin’ to be speaking for a whole generation
Do you know enough to try and handle their education?
Be sure you know the real deal about past situations
And not just repeating what you heard on a local tv station.
Sometimes they tell lies and put ’em in a truthful disguise
But the truth is, that’s why we said it wouldn’t be televised.
They don’t know what to say to our young folk
But they know that you do
If they really know the truth,
Why would they tell you?
First sign is peace
Tell all them gun-totin’ young brothers
The Man is glad to see us out there killin’ one another
We raised too much hell when they were shootin’ us down
So they started poisoning our minds and tryin’ to jerk us all around
And then they tell us they’ve got to come in and control our situation
They want half of us on dope, and the other half in incarceration.
If the ones they want dead ain’t killed by what they instigated
They can put some dope on the brother’s body
And claim it was ‘drug related’.
Tell ’em ‘drug related’ means there don’t need to be no investigation
OK at least that’s the way they goin’ to play it on the local tv station
All you 9 mm brothers,
Give ’em something to think about
Tell ’em you heard, that this is the new word
They got to work that stuff out.
’Coz somehow they feelin’ the wrong way with a gun in their hands
They feelin’ real independent
But they just pullin’ contracts for The Man.
Live at Five will tell you it’s hopeless out there on the avenue
But if they really knew the truth, why would they tell you?
And if they look at you like you’re insane
An they start callin’ you scarecrow and say you ain’t got no brain
Or start tellin’ folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks have finally co-opted your game
Or worse yet, implying that you don’t really know
That’s the same thing they said about us a long time ago.
Young rappers, one more suggestion before I get out of your way
But I appreciate the respect you give me and what you got to say.
I’m sayin’ protect your community and spread that respect around
Tell brothers and sisters they got to calm that bullshit down
Coz we terrorizing our old folks and we bought fear into our homes
And they ain’t got to hang out with the senior citizens
Just tell ’em damn it, leave the old folks alone.
And we know who’s ripping off the neighborhood
Tell ’em, that bullshit has got to stop
Tell ’em, you sorry they can’t handle it out there
But they got to take the crime off the block.
And if they look at you like they think you’re insane
Or start calling you scarecrow thinkin’ you ain’t got no brain
Or start telling folks that you sud
denly gone lame
Or that white folks have suddenly co-opted your game
Or worse yet saying that you really don’t know
That’s the same thing they said about me a long time ago.
And if they tell folks that you finally lost your nerve
That’s the same thing they said about us
When we said ‘Johannesburg’.
But I think you young folks need to know things don’t go both ways
You can’t talk respect on every other song or just every other day.
What I’m speaking on now is the raps about the womenfolks
On one song she your African queen, and on the next one she’s a joke.
And you ain’t said no words that I haven’t heard
But that ain’t no compliment
It only insults eight people out of ten and questions your intelligence
Four letter words or four syllable words won’t make you a poet
It will only magnify how shallow you are and let everybody know it.
If they look at you like they think you’re insane
Or they call you scarecrow thinkin’ you ain’t got no brain
Or start tellin’ folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that the white folks have finally co-opted your game
Or you really don’t know
They said that about me a long time ago.
If they finally start to tell people that you lost your nerve
Thats what they said about Johannesburg.
You ain’t insane
You have got a brain
You haven’t gone lame
You have got your game
Remember, keep the nerve
We’re talkin’ ’bout peace.
SPEED KILLS
Speed on by. Don’t seem to have the time.
What about this life, what about this life
Can I call mine?
Issues in the paper, but somehow I’m not concerned.
Seems I’ve been this way before, but I never learn.
Children slowly turn.
Time sped gone. We didn’t see it go.
Now what do we have, now what do we have
That we can show?
Friends you swore you’d never lose melted from your style
Down the tunnels of your youth and now you never smile.