CELEBRATING BLACK HISTORY ONE POET AT A TIME: ETHERIDGE KNIGHT

ALL THIS MONTH OF FEB. IT'S BLACK HISTORY MONTH AND I HERE AT LIFE IN WORDS WILL BE SHOWCASING AFRICAN AMERICAN POETS.

ETHERIDGE KNIGHT

HE WAS BORN IN 1931 TO A VERY POOR FAMILY IN CORINTH MISSISSIPPI. HE WAS AN AMAZING TRUE TALENT FOR THE WORD OF POETRY. HE SPOKE THE TRUTH IN HIS WRITTEN WAYS THAT VERY FEW POETS CAN DO. YOU FELT HIS PASSION AND HIS PAIN AND MOST OF ALL HIS LOVE AND HATE INSIDE EACH POEM. HE PUBLISHED HIS FIRST BOOK OF POEMS CALLED POEMS FROM PRISON IN 1968. THIS BOOK IS ABOUT HIS 8 YEARS IN JAIL FOR ROBBERY. AFTER HE DROPPED OUT OF SCHOOL IN THE NINTH GRADE HE BECAME ADDICTED TO MARIJUANA AND HEROIN. TO CHANGE HIMSELF FROM THE DARKNESS THAT WAS CONTROLLING HIM HE DECIDED TO JOIN THE U.S. ARMY IN 1947. AFTER LEAVING THE ARMY IN 1951 HE STARTED THE ART OF TELLING TOASTS. WHICH IS A ORAL POEM THAT TELLS A NARRATIVE IN A THEATER LIKE MANNER ITS A TRADITIONAL BLACK STYLE OF POETRY. HE STILL WAS ADDICTED TO DRUGS. AFTER STEALING A WOMAN'S PURSE IN 1960 HE WAS SENT TO JAIL HINT THE START OF HIS WRITTEN POETRY AND THE FIRST BOOK POEMS FROM PRISON. WHAT WAS ODD IS THAT HE GOT 10 TO 25 YEARS IN JAIL FOR THIS, CLEARLY A MARK OF IT'S TIMES, THE JUSTICE SYSTEM AGAINST AFRICAN AMERICANS. HE BELIEVED THAT THE SENTENCE WAS UNJUST AND VERY RACIST WHICH I AM SURE IT WAS. THERE IN PRISON HE READ LANGSTON HUGHES AND THE BIOGRAPHY OF MALCOLM X. THESE READINGS BROUGHT FORTH HIS SPARK TO WRITE POETRY. IN JAIL HE PUBLISHED HIS BOOK AND FINALLY WAS RELEASED FROM JAIL AFTER SPENDING 8 YEARS. HE HAD FIVE BOOKS OF POETRY PUBLISHED IN HIS LIFE. HE TAUGHT AT THE UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH, THE UNIVERSITY OF HARTFORD AND ALSO LINCOLN UNIVERSITY. HE WAS KNOWN TO BE A GREAT LOVER OF POETRY AND WAS OFTEN KNOWN TO HAVE A BOOK OF POETRY WITH HIM. SADLY HE DIED FROM LUNG CANCER IN 1991. HE WAS A MASTER AND A TRUE ICON TO POETRY THAT SPARKED TRUTH.

POEM SPOTLIGHT

The Violent Space (Or When Your Sister Sleeps Around For Money)

Exchange in greed the ungraceful signs. Thrust

The thick notes between green apple breasts.

Then the shadow of the devil descends,

The violent space cries and angel eyes,

Large and dark, retreat in innocence and in ice.

(Run sister run—the Bugga man comes!)

The violent space cries silently,

Like you cried wide years ago

In another space, speckled by the sun

And the leaves of a green plum tree,

And you were stung

By a red wasp and we flew home.

(Run sister run—the Bugga man comes!)

Well, hell, lil sis, wasps still sting.

You are all of seventeen and as alone now

In your pain as you were with the sting

On your brow.

Well, shit. lil sis, here we are:

You and I and this poem. And what should I do? should I squat

In the dust and make strange markings on the ground?

Shall I chant a spell to drive the demon away?

(Run sister run—the Bugga man comes!)

In the beginning you were the Virgin Mary,

And you are the Virgin Mary now.

But somewhere between Nazareth and Bethlehem

You lost your name in the nameless void.

"O Mary don't you weep don't you moan"

O Mary shake your butt to the violent juke,

Absord the demon puke and watch the whites eyes pop,

(Run sister run—the Bugga man comes!)

And what do I do. I boil my tears in a twisted spoon

And dance like an angel on the point of a needle.

I sit counting syllables like Midas gold.

I am not bold. I cannot yet take hold of the demon

And lift his weight from you black belly,

So I grab the air and sing my song.

(But the air cannot stand my singing long.)

BY: ETHERIDGE KNIGHT

POEM SPOTLIGHT:

Feeling Fucked Up

Lord she's gone done left me done packed / up and split

and I with no way to make her

come back and everywhere the world is bare

bright bone white crystal sand glistens

dope death dead dying and jiving drove

her away made her take her laughter and her smiles

and her softness and her midnight sighs--

Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky

fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds

and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth

fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and

democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck

god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon

and malcom fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck

the whole muthafucking thing

all i want now is my woman back

so my soul can sing

BY: ETHERIDGE KNIGHT