Poems & Other Pieces
Go away you
Bomb get away go away
Fast right
now fast quick you get me sick
My good gal
don' like you none an' the kids on my corner are sacred a' you
An' my
friends 're gettin headaches that split an' spit an'
That kind a
feelin' is rubbin' off on me an' I don' like it none too good
I hate the
letters in yer word - B that means bad yer so bad that even
A dead hog
in the sun would get up an' run O that stands for orrible
Yer so
orrible that the word drops it's first letter and runs M
that stands
for morgue an' all them folks in it 're feelin' lucky an' I don't
Mind folks
feelin' lucky but I hate that feelin' of envy an' sometimes when
I get to
thinkin' about how lucky they are I get envicious
of 'm an'
that's a bad lonesome feelin' too B - that means bad but that's
The second
time 'round so it's twice as bad
I hate you
cause you make my life seem like nothin' at all
I hate you
cause yer name's lost it's meaning an' you can fool anybody now
I hate you
cause yer man made and man owned an' man handled
An' you
might be missmade an' miss-owned an' miss handled an' even miss used
An' I hate
you cause you could drop on me by accident an' kill me
An' I never
liked yuh anyway - I'm against yuh to begin with
An' I hate
you twice as much as Jimm Crow hates me
I want that
bomb - I want it hangin' out a' my pocket an' danglin'
On my
key-chain - I want it strapped to my belt buckle -
I want it
stickin' out a' my boot
I want it
fallin' out a' my sock
I wanna
wear it on my wedding finger an' I wanna tie it with bandanas
To my head
I want that
Bomb -
I want it
settin in my mouth like a cigar
I want it
stickin from my ears like a carrot
I wanna
look in the mirror an' see it in my eyes
I want one
in both hands
I want two
in both arms
I want that
bomb to be hangin' an' hurtin' an' shinin' an' burnin'
I want it
glowing and backbiting - and whistling an' side winding
I want it
showin' all over my living self
I want it
breathin' from every porthole
I want it
blowin' from every pore
I want it weightin'
me down so I can't even walk right
I wanna get
up in the mornin' an scare the day right out a' it's dawn
Then I walk
into the White House an' say "DIG YOURSELVE'S"
Poem written for Izzy Young's Bomb Book 1962
[Source: photocopy of
manuscript]
[TOP]
We used t
drink cough medicine bottles a vodka t'gether
We used t
stay up all nite laughin and singin
And we did
that when there weren't too many people doin it
Hey man -
I'm sorry - // I mean I'm really sorry
I wrote
many lines in the past few years but there ain't no letters in
none a the words t spell
out how sorry I am
It's a
complicated day
I keep
rememberin the songs we used t sing an play
The songs
written thirty fifty years ago
The dirt
farm songs - the dust bowl songs
The
depression songs - the down and out songs
The ol
blues and ballads
I think a
Woody's songs
I think a
Woody's day
"This
land I'll defend with my life if it be"
An I say t
myself "Yeah that's right"
"Hitler's
on the march"
"I don't
wan''m takin my ground"
"I
don't wan''m livin on my land"
An I see
two side man
I see two
roads to pick yer route
The
American way or the Fascist way
When there
was a strike there's only two kind of views
An two
kinds of tales t tell the news
Thru the
unions eyes or thru the bosses eyes
An yuh
could stand on a line an look at yer friends
An stand on
that same line an see yer foes
It was that
easy
"Which
Side're You On" ain't phony words
An they
ain't from a phony song
An that was Woody's day
man
Two sides
I don know
what happened cause I wasn't aroun but somewhere along
the line a that used t be
day things got messed up
More kinds
a sides come int' the story
Folks I
guess started switchin sides an makin up their own sides
There got t
be so many sides that no eyes could could see the eyes facin'm
There got t
be so many sides that all of'm started lookin' like each other
I don
pretend to know what happened man, but somehow all sides lost their
purpose an folks forgot
about other folks
I mean they
must a all started goin against each other not for the good
a their side but for the
good a jes their own selves
An them two
simple sides that was so easy t tell apart bashed an
boomed an exploded so hard
an heavy that t'day all'ts left and
made for us is the one big
rockin rollin
COMPLICATED
CIRCLE
Nowadays
folk's brains're bamboozled an bowled over by categories
labels an slogans an
advertisements that could send anybody's
head in a spin
It's hard t
believe anybody's tellin the truth for what that is
I swear
it's true that in some parts a the country folks believe the
finger-pointers more'n the
President
It's the
time a the flag wavin shotgun carryin John Birchers
It's the
time a the killer dogs an killer sprays
It's the
time a the billbord sign super flyin highways
It's the
time a the pushbutton foods an five minute fads
It's the
time a the white collar shirt an the white sheeted hood and the
white man's sun tan lotion
It's time a
guns and grenades an bombs bigger'n any time's ever seen
It's the
time a Liz Taylor fans - sports fans and electric fans
It's the
time when a twenty year ol colored boy with his head bloody
don get too much thought
from the seventy year ol senator who
wants t bomb Cuba
I don't
know who the people were man that let it get this way but they
got what they wanted out a
their lives an left me an you facin a
scared raped world
They
frained the free thinkin air an left us with a mental institution
circle
They rotted
the poor wind and left us mixed up mislead
puny breeze
They stole
Abraham Lincoln's road an sold us Bill Moore's highway
They shot
down trees - buried the leaves an nailed "Profess" t the
gravestone
They damned
up the clear runnin river of "Love thy neighbor"
said by Jesus Christ a Bethlehem
an poluted us with "I'll guard"
"the school with my
body" said by governor Wallace of
Alabama
They robbed
the Constitution of the land an snuck in the censors of
the mind
They bought
up everythin at the auction an left us with a garbage
market a fools an fears an
frustratin phoniness
Yuh ask how
I'm doin Dave
I'm still
singin - I'm still writin
I'm still
doin all a things I used to do I guess
But the
difference is probably that now I really ain't thinkin
about what I'm doing no
more
I do worry
no more bout the covered up lies and twisted truth in front
a my eyes
I don worry
no more bout the no-talent criticizers an know-nothin
philosophizers
I don worry
no more bout the cross-legged corner sitters who try an
make rules for the ones
travelin in the middle a the room
I'm singin
an writin what's on my own mind now
What's in
my own head and what's in my own heart
I'm singin
for me an a million other me's that've been forced t'gether
by the same feelin
Not by no
kind a side
Not by no kind
a category
People hung
up and strung out
People
frustrated an corked in an bottled up
People on
no special form or field - age limit or class
I can't
sing "Red Apple juice" no more
I gotta
sing "masters a War"
I can't
sing "Little Maggie" with a clear head
I gotta
sing "Seven Curses" instead
I can't
sing "John Henry"
I gotta
sing "Hollis Brown"
I can't
Sing "John Johannah" cause it's his story an his people's story
I gotta
sing "With God On My Side" cause it's my story an my
people's
I can't
sing "The Girl I Left Behind" cause I know what it's like
to do it
I gotta
sing "Boots a Spanish Leather" cause I know what's like
to live it
But don't
get me wrong now
Don think I
go way out a my way not t sing no folk songs
That ain't
it at all
The folk
songs showed me the way
They showed
me that songs can say somethin human
Without
"Barbara Allen" there'd be no "Girl From The North Country"
Without no
"Lone Green Valley" there'd be no "Don't Think Twice"
Without no
"Jesse James" there'd be no "Davy Moore"
Without no
"Twenty one Years" there'd be no "Walls a Red Wing"
Hell no
Them ol
songs're the only kinda picture left t show the new born
how it used t be in them
times
Them ol
songs tell us what they had t run thru or walk thru or
dance thru
The ol songs
tell how they loved an how they kissed
They tell
us what they rejected and objected to
They laid
it down an made the path
They were
simple an tol the story straight
They said
who they fought an what they fought for an with what they
fought with
An who they
fought against
Now's a
complicated day
An all I'm
sayin' is'at I gotta make my own statement bout this day
I gotta
write my own feelins down the same way they did it before
me in that used t be day
An I got
nothin but homage an holy thinkin for the ol songs and
stories
But now
there's me an you
An I'm doin
what I'm doin for me
An I'm doin
what I'm doin for you
I'm writin
an singin for me
An I'm
writin an singin for you
I'm writin
an singin for me cause I'm human an I'm breathin
In a world
that was made for me
I'm writin
an singin for you cause yer a part a me an everythin I
stand for
I don know
why I aint written t yuh
maybe cause
I never write letters t'myself
yeah maybe
that's why
See
yuh when I get there
yer
friend
Bob
Dylan
[Source: the
Newport Folk Festival program 1963]
[TOP]
the school
quarter ended, an there I stood ...
stranded ha
...
it was
harder then I thought yes...
I dont
think I made it ... no ... the nite was drunk and it was now winter ...
Christmas
vacation ... the almighty restin
period ...
I was livin
in this fraternity house.
Everybody's
gone ... they all went home ... the house?
mine ...
belongs t me.
big
lonesome house.
nobody's
even ???? not even in the kitchen ...
I sat
between two barrals of butter this mornin. thinkin about poor me.
sittin
between two barrals of butter.
it's now
nite the street is mine.
god it's
lonesome ...
who will I
go see?
I love
Judy.
Judy says she
loves me but she also says she's busy. I told her I love her ...
I hate her
cause I sense she dont love me ...
I wish I
didn't love her. I wish she'd invite me for christmas for
christ's
sake ... I wish I had a car ...
I wish I
wish. Hey mr. christmas man I wanna know where I'm supposed t be.
gimme that
for christmas ... (no answer).
I shut the
lights off in the main room of the house so nobody can see me an I
watch out
the window ...
dirty
window nobody even cleans the windows here
well it
aint gonna be me (bitin my teeth)
I'm just
roomin here
... they advertised for boarders an they got me ...
they didn't
get no fraternity pledge of alligence cat whose got t wait
on them or
their windows ...
I aint even
friends with any of em
they think
I'm odd ... my clothes an hair aint right ...
they smile
at me too ...
sometimes I
smile back but then they chuckle ...
why in the
fuck do they chuckle?
I gotta
chuckle back what's they start it for?
headlights
turn into the alley!
somebody's
comin ...
I quick
pick up the phone an pretend I'm talkin ...
dont want
nobody whoever it is t think I'm all alone here ...
the brakes
slam the car door slams the screen door slams an somebody
who I
hardly know walks up the steps an seems startled by me ...
he stops
headin for whatever he was headin for as he hears me say
goodbye an
hang up the phone ...
"you been here the last couple
day?"
"no I went up north but came back
down"
"aint yuh going home for
christmas?"
"well I did man but like I said I came
back down"
"well where you going for
christmas?"
I look out
the window pretendin I'm waiting for somebody -
he's gotta
have porpoise brains t believe this
"I dont know I got about three places I
chose from"
"yeah well I's just surprised t see
anybody here that's all"
"yeah well I'm kinda takin care the
house ha"
"I'm on my way upstairs t get some books
see yuh on my way down"
he jumped
the steps three at a time thud thud ...
man if I
had the guts I think I do I'd steal
your louzy
car an turn on your louzy heat an drive down
that lousy
road ... an blow out your lousy radio -
thud thud
... he's back again wavin notebooks.
"see
yuh take it easy now"
"yeah yeah take it easy too"
I walked
upstairs ... the house was cold ...
the first
snow that fell had melted
outside it
was rainin
in the
mornin there'd be snow again
I stopped
into somebody's room an glanced
over some
dirty magazines ... man I wish I could jump right
into one a
them magazines ... ah yes gimme that
for
christmas too ...
what's all this
wrapped up ribbon shit ...
gimme some
kinda world t jump into ...
judy judy
god damn I gotta call judy ...
ring ring
her ma answers.
her ma
hates me.
snobby sort
...
wants the
best for her daughter.
society
bitch.
bitch of a
mother ...
talks down
at me when she knows it's me callin ...
sometimes
she even says that judy aint there ...
judy says
not t call at certain times ...
ah man it's
all so fuckin complicated ...
"is judy there?"
"pause"
"is judy there?"
"muffled sound"
"I gotta talk t judy"
"a muffled silence"
"hello"
"hello judy?"
"I told you not t call what d'yuh think
you're doing?"
"I just gotta ask yuh something"
"what?"
I feel good
from hearin her voice but feel sad
cause I
know she's gotta go ...
probably
with someone else ...
someone
else her mother likes an makes more sence t her than me ...
ah I wanna
cry out load an scream over the phone ...
"when can I see you?"
"I told you not t come back"
"yah but yuh said you loved me"
"but I cant see yuh this week"
"why?"
"cause I made other plans that's
why"
"but you love me - you said
yourself"
"but I cant break plans"
"what d'yuh mean yuh cant, will yuh
please come over here, it wont take long an ..."
"but I dont break dates"
"dates? ah wow I just ... I mean I dont
understand"
"look I gotta go please dont call til
after Christmas"
"Judy you son of a bitch you said ...
that ..."
click
"you said that you loved me ..."
slam
girls have
hung up on me an have hung up on me as far back
as I can
remember ... each one promises t be the last.
I walked
out in the lonesome nite hearin bells off in the distance.
the rain
drizzled as I too wished I was off in the distance.
[Source: The Telegraph # 35, from the Margolis &
Moss manuscripts]
[TOP]
It aint no
use in talkin about folk music -
It aint no
use in takin stands an sides an gettin all sweat about it -
It don make
sense really t learn names an shout labels an get yer-
self all
confused -
It aint got
no meanin at all t discuss an defend it -
An it dont
mean nothin t offend it -
Of all the
corners a the question there aint no answers noplace worth
lookin at seriously cause the question
jus aint that almighty big
What folk
music an what aint's got nothin t do with the world -
It just
aint healthy t let the music run yer life like that -
Yer life's
gotta run the music -
You can't
afford t let yer guitar own yer mind -
Yer mind's
gotta own that guitar -
So what if
other folks try an makes rules for it -
So what if
other folks try an boundary it all up -
So what if
other folks try an chain it down and tell yuh what's it all about -
It don make
no difference at all if yer own life is running things -
But if the
music's runnin you then yuh get swallowed up by all blabber talk -
You don
have t worry about that's folk music an what aint -
Man, it's
just a wide circle a silly tongues ant it aint important at all -
Don let
nobody block your head off -
Don let no
one weave a wall in front of yer eyes -
Don let no
one teach yuh what t call things -
Just get up
in the mornin an go -
Just open
your eyes an walk -
Forget the
silly talk -
There's a
million paths t take -
There's a
million miles t make -
There's a
million border lines t break -
The shadow
a the mountain sure moving an shiftin -
Raindrops
an snowflakes're free fallin an forever driftin
Tree top're
wavin an shakin an the fog is liftin
The white
line on the highway's reflectin -
Behind the
ditch broken down empty shack're still standin
Above the
road an the cove caves're still hiden -
In back a
the fence the dogs're still barkin -
The pacific
Ocean is soundin and poundin
An the
Monterrey sands're waitin
For yer
bare feet t be walkin -
There's
train lines rattlin an there's whistle's screamin -
The wind's
jauntin an there's hitchhikers thumbin an bummin -
The color a
the sky's changin
An the
color a the clouds're turnin
An the
color a the ground's fadin
Fathers an
mothers laughing an biebies're cryin
Young
girls're sighin
An ol
men're dyin -
The dark
nite's foldin an people're fightin an frightened
Ships're
sailin an trucks're haulin
An New York
City's crawlin
With hungry
voices callin
An ol
buildings fallin
An clothes
lines're stretched an strung out
With all
different colors a pants an shirts hangin -
An the dirt
in the alley's risin
An
jackhammer dust's flyin -
An the
Hudsin river're restin
An kid's
voices're ringin
The hobo
poet's whisperin and the bartender's not listenin -
The East
Side is sweatin an steamin
an fightin'
t be breathin -
Forty 2nd
Street's flyin an floatin and jumpin an twistin an explodin -
Subways're
loadin
Folks 'f
all colors an creed're settlin an sittin on park benches an street
corners an curbs an roof tops an bus stops -
The back a
the bar rooms're lined steady an standin full with road
walkers an road workers an road poets an road painters with
lonesome thoughts an hungry feelings -
Junkies an
flunkies line the wind along side ban-the-bomb demonstrators
Girls're
hustlin for dollars on one side a the street an
Girls're
sittin down for their rights on the other side a the street -
The new
Premise's playin
an
Moondog's beatin his drum an sayin his lines -
Lenny
Bruce's talkin
an Lord
Buckley's memory still movin
An Doc
Watson's walkin
Ray
Charles's shoutin an speakin
Bertrand
Russell's yellin from across the ocean
an Julian
Beck's tellin the same on this side a the sea -
Jim Forman
is livin an Ross Barnett's losin -
Harry
Jackson's paintin -
Maybelle
Carter's really standin an really strummin
an Mike
Seeger's really real -
An Pete Seeger's
really Pete Seeger -
An Joan
Baez is still unshattered
An Marlon
Brando's on the good side -
An the
time's a rollin down every single street -
There's a
girl waitin on every single corner -
An men're
still breathin
An men're
still breathin
An it's all
music -
Every space
a human life
It's all
music -
An it don
have t have no stamp 'f approval from nobody -
It don have
to be ok ed by no one -
There aint
no scholar that's smart enuff t invent the rules -
There aint
no lawmaker high enuff t chain it down with boundaries -
There aint
no guard that's good enuff t hold a gun on it -
An there
aint no gun that's got enuff bullets an shells t shoot it -
An it's yer
life
Do it - don
talk it -
Forget
about the talkers -
They'll
always be around
You won't
......
Bob Dylan
[Poem published in Hootenanny magazine December 1963]
[TOP]
Mrs Kennedy
... you were crawlin
on all
fours ... I saw you
they
printed you that way
for the curiousity
seekers
t get a
close glimpse
of Mr
Kennedy's last
car ride
... yes I too was
forced into
acceptin my
role as
curiousity seeker ...
they showed
you in four separate
pictures
runnin in slow motion
after you
knew your
husband was
shot ...
the second
after you knew your husband was shot
you were up
an past
the back
seat ... climbin
down the
trunk ...
then a man
came runnin ...
he came
runnin t'wards you ...
he was
called a security guard
he came
closer as you were farther out on the trunk
he jumped up
on the trunk ...
there were
no more pictures
showin this
the magazine
then
proclaimed that you
were tryin
t help the man
into the
car ...
Mrs Kennedy
you dont
need excuse
for being out on the trunk
the seconds
after your husband was shot
everybody could
see what was happenin
in these
pictures with their own eyes ...
why was the
truth of human beings distorted?
how far can
this hero image go?
everybody
aint a hero ...
why am I
deliberately lied wild lies
about what
I see with sound eyes
who am I t
be so insulted?
I respect
you Mrs Kennedy
but I need
no pictures t provide the respect ...
my respect
springs from reasons in my soul
of which I
cant touch
nor explain
...
I do not
feel better knowin you are human
I knew it
all the time.
__________
Mr President
I too take off my hat t you
I shall
abandon the rumours from mogrul's world
as old hags
in high clothes
an court my
truth as a youthful girl
an not
worry about my heart being broken
oh some say
it was more men than one
oh the wind
blows bitter
I am sick t
my soul an my stomach
thru
communication I heard the high men speak of him
as tho they
were best friends
all
criticizers
t recall
the day once more in my mind
I'd just as
soon not for its useless
Broadway
was salted like a truse had been sighed
all eyes
were magnitised t each other
all regret
they'd ever criticised him
even those
who've even been known t 've dispised him
_________
to
compliment one
the
complete reward
oh your
hair looks fine today
I look at
myself
with cause
to examine
dressed in
jeans
like the
magazines say
ah I ask
"would I kill the president"
for any
reason ...
an men have
reasons
for how
they act
an I say
___________
I stand an
watch the clock tick
a bridge of
time 'tween
my cliff an
the one across
the great
white way
I've never
seen the likes
of where
I'm goin before
I do not
know how
soft or how
hard the ground is over there
for its
never been explained
in terms of
standin on it ...
but with
every tick
I take
another step
because
stunned by
disbelief
as
everybody in the room
we watched
Walter Cronkite
half asleep
tryin his best
t fasten rumor
t'gether
it was
friday mornin
yesterday a
riot started up
in Harlem
t'day at
least for now it is no more
I shall
court the truth
like any
other youthful girl
an worry
not about a broken heart
but the
sword that bleeds
from a
mortals blood
shows only
its holder's reflection
Broadway
was sleepin with people
as groups
gathered round radios
it was
[Isis # 30-31 from the Margolis & Moss
manuscripts]
[TOP]
to anybody
it may concern ....
clark?
mairi?
phillip?
edith?
mr. lamont?
countless
faces I do not know
an all
fighters for good things I can not see
when I
speak of bald heads, I mean bald minds
when I
speak of the seashore, I mean the restin shore
I dint know
why I mentioned either of them
my life
runs in a series of moods
in private
an in personal ways, sometimes,
I, myself,
can change the mood I'm in t the
mood I like
t be in, when I walked thru the
doors of the
americana hotel, I needed t change
my mood
... for reasons inside myself
I am a
restless soul
hungry
perhaps
wretched
it is hard
to hear someone you dont know, say
"this
is what he" "meant" "t say" about something
you just
said
for no one
can say what I meant t say
absolutely
no one
at time I
even cant
that was
one of those times
my life is
lived out daily in the places i feel
most
comfortable in. these places are places where
i am
unknown an unstared at. I perform rarely, an
when I do,
there is a constant commotion burnin
at my body
an at my mind because of the attention
aimed at
me. instincts fight my emotion an fears
fight my
instincts ...
I do not
claim t be smart by the standards set up
I dont even
claim to be normal by the standards
set up
an I do not
claim to know any kind of truth
but like an
artist who puts his painting (after
he's
painted it) in front of thousands of unknown
eyes, I
also put my song there that way
(after I've
made it)
it is as
easy an as simple as that
I can not
speak, I can not talk
I can only
write an I can only sing
perhaps I
should've sung a song
but that
wouldn't a been right either
for I was
given an award not to sing
but rather
on what I have sung
no what I
should've said was
"thank
you very much ladied an gentlemen"
yes that is
what I should've said
an I didn't
because I did not know
I thought
something else was expected of me
other than
just sayin "thank you"
an I didn't
know what it was
it is a
fierce heavy feelin
thinkin
somethin
is expected
of you
but you
dont know what exactly it is ....
it brings
forth a weird form of guilt
I should've
remembered
"I am
BOB DYLAN an I dont have to speak"
"I
dont have t say nothin if I dont wanna"
but
I didn't remember
I
constantly asked myself while eatin supper
"what should
I say? what should I tell'm?"
"everybody
else is gonna tell'm somethin"
but I could
not answer myself
I even
asked someone who was sittin nex t me
an he
couldn't tell me either, my mind blew
up an
needless t say I had t get it back in its
rightful shape
(whatever that might be) an so
I escaped
from the big room.... only t hear my
name being
shouted an the words "git in here,"
"git
in here" overlappin with the findin of my
hand being
pulled across hundreds of tables
with the
lights turned on strong.... guidin me
back t
where I tried t escape from
"what
should I say? what should I say?"
over an
over again
oh God, I'd
a given anything not t be there
"shut
the lights off at least"
people were
coughin an my head was poundin
an the
sounds of mumble jumble sank deep in
my skull
from all sides of the room
until I
tore everything loose from my mind
an said
"just be honest, dylan, just be honest"
an so I
found myself in front of the plank
like I
found myself once in the path of a car
an I jumped....
jumped with
all my bloody might
just tryin
t get out o the way
but first
screamin one last song
when i
spoke of Lee Oswald, I was speakin of the times
I was not
speakin of his deed if it was his deed
the deed
speaks for itself
but I am
sick
so sick
at hearin
"we all share the blame" for every
church
bombing, gun battle, mine disaster,
poverty
explosion, an president killing that comes about
it is so
easy t say "we" an bow our heads together
I must say
"I" alone an bow my head alone
for it is I
alone who is livin my life
I have
beloved companions but they do not
eat nor
sleep for me
an even
they must say "I"
yes if
there's violence in the times then
there must
be violence in me
I am not a
perfect mute
I haer the
thunder an I cant avoid hearin it
once this
is straight between us, it's then an
only then
that we can say "we" an really mean
it.... an
go on from there t do something about it
When I
spoke of Negroes
I was
speakin of my Negro friends
from harlem
an jackson
selma an
birmingham
atlanta, pittsburgh,
an all points east
west,
north, south an wherever else they
might
happen t be
i rat
filled rooms
an dirt
land farms
schools,
dimestores, factories,
pool halls
an street corners
the ones
that dont own trees
but know
proudly they dont have to
not one
little bit
they dont
have t be like they naturally aint
t get what
they naturally own no more'n anybody
else does
it only
gets things complicated
an leads
people into thinkin the wrong things
black skin
is black skin
it cant be
covered by clothes an made t seem
acceptable,
well liked an respectable....
t teach
that or t think that just tends the
flames of
another monster myth....
it is naked
black skin an nothin else
if a Negro
has t wear a tie t be a Negro
then I must
cut off all ties with who he has
t do it for
I do not
know why I wanted t say this that
nite
perhaps it
was just one of the many things
in my mind
born from
the confusion of my times
when I
spoke about the people that went t Cuba
I was
speakin of the free right t travel
I am not
afraid t see things
I challenge
seein things
I am
insulted t the depths of my soul
when
someone I dont know commands that I
cant see
this an gives me mysterious reasons
why I'll
get hurt if I do see it.... tellin me
at the same
time about goodness an badness in
people that
again I dont know....
I've been
told about people all my life
about
niggers, kikes, wops, bohunks, spicks, chinks,
an I been
told how they eat, dress, walk, talk,
steal, rob
an kill but nobody tells me how any of'm cries
or laughs
or kisses, I'm fed up with most newspapers,
radios, tv
an movies an the like t tell me, I want
now t see
an know for myself....
an I
accepted that award for all others like me
who want t
see for themselves.... an who dont want
that
God-given right taken away
stole away
or snuck
out from beneath them
yes a
travel ban in the south would protect
Americans
more, I'm sure, than the one t Cuba
but in all
honesty I would want t crash that
one too
do you
understand?
do you
really understand?
I mean I
want t see. I want t see all I can
every place
there is t see it
my life
carries eyes
an they're
there for one reason
the reason
t see thru them
my country
is the Minnesota - North Dakota territory
that's
where I was born an learned how t walk an
it's where
I was born an learned how t walk an
it's where
I was raised an went t school.... my
youth was
spent wildly among the snowy hills an