Comment 1

Poem here says, Comment #1
Uh, Comment #2 is dynamite
But Comment #1 is the one we decided
To use here this evening
Because it makes a comment if you listen
Closely on what is now being advertised
In East Harlem as the "Rainbow
Conspiracy" - a combination of
The Students For A Democratic Society
The Black Panthers, and the Young Lords
And this is my particular
Comment about that conspiracy
"Comment #1":
The time is in the street you know
Us living as we do upside down
And the new word to have is revolution
People don't even want to hear
The preacher spill or spiel
Because God's hole card has
Been thoroughly piqued
And America is now blood and tears
Instead of milk and honey
The youngsters who were programmed
To continue fucking up woke up one night
Digging Paul Revere and Nat Turner as
The good guys america stripped
For bed and we had not all yet
Closed our eyes the signs of Truth
Were tattooed across our often-entered vagina
We learned to our amazement
Untold tale of scandal
Two long centuries buried in the musty vault
Hosed down daily with a gagging perfume
America was a bastard
The illegitimate daughter
Of the mother country whose legs
Were then spread around the world
And a rapist known as freedom: free doom
Democracy, liberty, and justice were
Revolutionary code names that preceded
The bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling
Bubbling in the mother country's crotch
And behold a baby girl was born
Nurtured by slave holders and whitey racists
It grew and grew and grew screwing
Indiscriminately like mother, like daughter
Everything unplagued by her madame mother
The present mocks us, good Black people
With keen memories set fire to the bastards
Who ask us in a whisper to melt and integrate
Young, very young, teeny
Bopping revolt on weekend young dig
By proxy what a mental ass kicking
They receive through
Institutionalized everything
And vomit up slogans to stay out of Vietnam
They seek to hide their relationship
With the world's prostitute
Alienating themselves from everything
Except dirt and money with long hair, grime
And dope
To camo-hide the things that cannot be hidden
They become runaway children to walk
The streets downtown with everyday
Black people sitting on the curb
Crying because we know that they will go back
Home with a clear conscience
And a college degree
The irony of it all, of course
Is when a pale face SDS motherfucker dares
Look hurt when I tell him to
Go find his own revolution
He wonders why I tell
Him that America's revolution
Will not be the melting pot
But the toilet bowl
He is fighting for legalized smoke
Or lower voting age
Less lip from his generation gap
And fucking in the street
Where is my parallel to that?
All I want is a good home
And a wife and a children
And some food to feed them every night
Back goes pale face to basics
Does Little Orphan Annie have a natural?
Do Sluggo's kinks make him
A refugee from Mandingo?
What does Webster's say about soul?
I say you silly trite motherfucker
Your great grandfather
Tied a ball and chain to my balls
And bounced me through a cotton field
While I lived in an unflushable toilet bowl
And now you want me to
Help you overthrow what?
The only Truth that can be
Delivered to a four year
Revolutionary with a hole card
Ie skin is this:
Fuck up what you can in the name of
Piggy Wallace, Dickless Nixon
And Spiro Agnew
Leave brother Cleaver and Brother
Malcolm alone please
After all is said and done build a new
Route to China if they'll have you
Who will survive in America?