The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni

by Nikki Giovanni

award

  And he’ll probably win

  (If he’d just stop wetting on himself each and

  everytime he

  meets a Due-pontee)

  LORD KNOWS HE TRIES

  Why just the other day I heard him say NO

  But he was only talking to the janitor and I believe

  they

  expect him to exercise some control over the

  excretionary

  facilities around here

  (But it’s a start)

  My only real criticism is that he eats his daily

  nourishment at the “Y”

  And I was taught that’s not proper to do in public

  But he’s sharp, my but that boy is sharp

  Why it took the overlords two generations to recognize

  that negroes had moved to the East side of town (which is similar to

  but not the same as the wrong side of the tracks)

  And here he is making plans for future whites who

  haven’t even

  reclaimed the best land yet

  “Don’t say nothing Black or colored or look unhappy”

  I heard him tell his chief joints

  And every bone bopped in place but quick

  (He can really order some colored people around—

  a sight to behold)

  And does a basically good militant shuffle

  when dancing is in order

  I’d really like to see him party more but he swears

  Asphalt is bad for his eye-talian shoes

  And we all appreciate eye-tal

  don’t we

  I tried to talk to him once but he just told me

  “Don’t be emotional”

  And all the while he was shaking and crying

  and raining blows on

  poor black me

  So I guess I’m wrong again

  Just maybe I don’t know the coloure of my

  truefriends

  As Wilmington pointed out to me himself

  But I’m still not going to anymore banquits

  The last one they replaced jello with

  jellied gas (a Due-pontee specialty; housewise)

  And I couldn’t figure out what they were trying

  to tell me

  Wilmington said they were giving me guest treat-meants

  But somehow I don’t feel welcome

  So I’m going to pack my don-key (asswise) and split

  before they start to do me favors too

  Letter to a Bourgeois

  Friend Whom Once I Loved

  (And Maybe Still Do If Love Is Valid)

  The whole point of writing you is pointless

  and somewhere in the back of my mind I really do

  accept that. But on the other hand the whole point

  of points is pointless when it’s boiled all the way down

  to the least common denominator. But I was never one

  to deal with fractions when there are so many wholes

  that cannot be dissected—at least these poor hands

  lack both skill and tool and perhaps this poor heart

  lacks even the inclination to try because emotion is in

  and of itself a wasteful thing because it lacks the power

  to fulfill itself. And power is to be sought.

  I see, after talking with you I did see, that Johnson

  sent his storm troopers into Detroit and that’s wrong

  and the wrong is not what we have done but what

  Johnson and all the johnsons before him have done

  and it’s wrong that we hate but it’s even more wrong

  to love when neither love nor hate have anything to do

  with what must be done. And Rap does love and

  maybe he won’t tomorrow or the next day and if

  he does maybe it won’t be with me but if we must love

  then I must love you and him and all other people.

  Or I must not deal with love at all. And if we are not

  to deal with love then we must not deal with emotion

  because if not love then we deal with hate or fear

  or anxiety or just anything but The Problem which is

  what we must deal with if we are to get back to love

  and hate and anxiety and all those foolish emotions.

  Which is what we’re talking about. And you are angry

  with me maybe because you think I’ll get hurt

  (if indeed you care) or maybe because you think

  you’ll get hurt but not at all because I hate

  because you know I don’t hate and not because

  I’m violent because you know I’m not violent

  so perhaps you are not angry at all but just give

  slightly a shade left of a good goddamn what the hell

  happens to me and whether or not I want to share it

  with you and the truth being that I should give

  a bout face and act like an adult except that adulthood

  has no room for me because adulthood implies another

  adult to relate to and there are no adults

  only children whose balloons are bursting spit

  all over their faces and having never tasted spit

  let alone eaten any shit or licked any ass

  you think that liquid on your face is rain from Heaven

  and maybe you hope if it rains hard enough

  all the wrinkles will disappear and the fountain

  of youth, having been presented to you by our friend

  and neighbor, will be yours for-ever surrounded by

  flashing lights on the outside instead of the terrible

  hammer inside which beats the sweat or fans the cold

  and sometimes buckles your knees. So we move to

  needs which must be met and I confess with a smile

  on my lips that my needs are far more important to me

  than your needs are to me and even though your needs

  mean something to me they are only important

  insofar as your needs have a need to meet mine.

  And your needs lack significance to me when your

  need is to get away from me and my needs.

  Which is why I’m currently going through a thing

  which is the only accurate description of my emotional

  goulash, as if you’ve never been lonely and basically

  afraid but recognizing that fear is an invalid emotion

  and so is loneliness but being afraid and lonely

  nonetheless. I called you but you have a job.

  Which is no longer inclusive of me or maybe I just

  developed a bad case of paranoia which in the next

  thousand years may be understood by all the people

  everywhere who can understand how it feels to be

  lonely and afraid when there is no place for emotion.

  And that has to upset your world which I fully intend

  to do even if I don’t like doing it because likes or

  dislikes have nothing to do with what has to be done

  —even to you with whom I’d dearly like to do nothing

  at all. My, but you hurt.

  I’m Not Lonely

  i’m not lonely

  sleeping all alone

  you think i’m scared

  but i’m a big girl

  i don’t cry

  or anything

  i have a great big bed

  to roll around

  in and lots of space

  and i don’t dream

  bad dreams

  like i used

  to have that you

  were leaving me

  anymore

  now that you’re gone

  i don’t dream

  and no matter

  what you think

  i’m not lonely

  sleeping

  all alone

  Love Poem

  (For Real)

&
nbsp; it’s so hard to love

  people

  who will die soon

  the sixties have been one

  long funeral day

  the flag flew at half-mast

  so frequently

  seeing it up

  i wondered what was wrong

  it will go back

  to half

  on inauguration day

  (though during the johnson love

  in the pole

  was cut

  the mourning wasn’t

  official)

  the Jews are seeking

  sympathy

  cause there isn’t one Jew

  (and few circumcised women)

  in the cabinet

  old mother no dick plans

  to keep it

  bare

  it’s impossible to love

  a Jew

  united quakers and crackers

  for death, inc.

  are back in the driver’s seat

  it hertz

  and i pledge allegiance

  to the removal of all

  pain

  it’s masochistic

  (derived from colored

  meaning sick to kiss massa)

  to love honkies

  riderless horses

  backward boots

  the eternal flame of the flammable

  Black Man

  who does not plan to screw

  honkies to death

  it’s so easy to love

  Black Men

  they must not die anymore

  and we must not die

  with america

  their day of mourning

  is our first international

  holiday

  it’s a question of power

  which we must wield

  if it is not

  to be wielded

  against

  us

  For an Intellectual Audience

  i’m a happy moile

  the opposite of which

  is an unhappy

  womblie

  and the only way you’ll ever

  understand

  this poem

  is if you sit

  on your ear

  three times a day

  facing south

  justa whistling

  dixie

  while nikki picks

  her nose

  if you miss nose

  picking time

  then you must collect

  three and one half milograms

  of toe jam

  and give it to barbara’s cat

  and if you can’t find

  barbara’s cat

  then how you gonna call

  yourself

  a black man?

  Black Power

  (For All the Beautiful Black Panthers East)

  But the whole thing is a miracle—See?

  We were just standing there

  talking—not touching or smoking

  Pot

  When this cop told

  Tyrone

  Move along buddy—take your whores

  outa here

  And this tremendous growl

  From out of nowhere

  Pounced on him

  Nobody to this very day

  Can explain

  How it happened

  And none of the zoos or circuses

  Within fifty miles

  Had reported

  A panther

  Missing

  Seduction

  one day

  you gonna walk in this house

  and i’m gonna have on a long African

  gown

  you’ll sit down and say “The Black…”

  and i’m gonna take one arm out

  then you—not noticing me at all—will say “What about

  this brother…”

  and i’m going to be slipping it over my head

  and you’ll rap on about “The revolution…”

  while i rest your hand against my stomach

  you’ll go on—as you always do—saying

  “I just can’t dig…”

  while i’m moving your hand up and down

  and i’ll be taking your dashiki off

  then you’ll say “What we really need…”

  and i’ll be licking your arm

  and “The way I see it we ought to…”

  and unbuckling your pants

  “And what about the situation…”

  and taking your shorts off

  then you’ll notice

  your state of undress

  and knowing you you’ll just say

  “Nikki,

  isn’t this counterrevolutionary…?”

  Word Poem

  (Perhaps Worth Considering)

  as things be / come

  let’s destroy

  then we can destroy

  what we be / come

  let’s build

  what we become

  when we dream

  Black Judgement

  1968

  The Dance Committee

  (Concerning Jean-Léon Destiné)

  I am the token negro

  I sit in the colored section with Fanon in hand

  (to demonstrate my militancy)

  and a very dry martini

  (ingredients: yellow grass and a green faggot

  over lightly)

  while circumcised flies buzz brassy smells over my head

  The women (obviously my superiors)

  White sharp lines

  and light-blue mascara

  reaching all the way down beyond the red neck

  crossing the middle age spread

  form a double V (at home and the office)

  spinning spidery daydreams of cloth

  once covering and once removed

  dripping babies

  I asked why

  the group wouldn’t be in the Black community

  (it was Black French—which I should point out

  has nothing to do with sex)

  And was told quite soundlee

  that just because they’re colored don’t

  mean they’re not artists too

  THEY’RE ARTISTS TOO AND COLOR

  AIN’T GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH IT

  AND WHY OH WHY WON’T YOU PEOPLE

  LET US FORGET YOU’RE COLORED TOO

  Token Negroes

  I do believe, at least I was told,

  and it is very important

  for future exchanges

  And again I must point out sex is not the issue

  that we should simply fuck

  tokenism

  Of Liberation

  Dykes of the world are united

  Faggots got their thing together

  (Everyone is organized)

  Black people these are facts

  Where’s your power

  Honkies rule the world

  Where’s your power Black people

  (There are those who say it’s found in the root of all evil)

  You are money

  You seek property

  Own yourself

  3/5 of a man

  100% whore

  Chattel property

  All of us

  The most vital commodity in america

  Is Black people

  Ask any circumcised honkie

  There are relevant points to be considered, Black People

  Honkies tell niggers don’t burn

  “violence begets you nothing my fellow americans”

  But they insist on straightened hair

  They insist on bleaching creams

  It is only natural that we would escalate

  It has been pointed out:

  “If we can’t out fight them, we can’t out vote them”

  These are relevant points to consider

  If 10% honkies can run south africa

  then

  10% Black people (which has
nothing to do with negroes)

  can run america

  These are facts

  Deal with them

  It has been pointed out:

  “The last bastion of white supremacy

  is in the Black man’s mind”

  (Note—this is not a criticism of brothers)

  Everything comes in steps

  Negative step one: get the white out of your hair

  Negative step two: get the white out of your mind

  Negative step three: get the white out of your parties

  Negative step four: get the white out of your meetings

  BLACK STEP ONE:

  Get the feeling out (this may be painful—endure)

  BLACK STEP TWO:

  Outline and implement the program

  All honkies and some negroes will have to die

  This is unfortunate but necessary

  Black law must be implemented

  The Black Liberation Front must take responsibility

  For Black people

  If the choice is between the able and the faithful

  The faithful must be chosen

  Blackness is its own qualifier

  Blackness is its own standard

  There are no able negroes

  White degrees do not qualify negroes to run

  The Black Revolution

  The Black Liberation Front must set the standards

  These are international rules

  Acquaint yourself with the Chinese, The Vietnamese,

  The Cubans

  And other Black Revolutions

  We have tried far too long to ally with whites

  Remember the rule of thumb:

  WILD ANIMALS CAN BE TRAINED

  BUT NEVER TAMED

  The honkie is this category

  Like any beast he can be trained with varying degrees

  of excellence to

  1) eat from a table

  2) wash his hands

  3) drive an automobile or bicycle