Brother AACOOLDRE : Poems of Obama & Frank Marshall Davis

Discussion in 'AACOOLDRE' started by AACOOLDRE, Feb 29, 2016.


    AACOOLDRE Well-Known Member MEMBER

    United States
    Jul 26, 2001
    Likes Received:
    Foreword to Black Man’s Verse (1935) Frank Marshall Davis

    “it is merely enough to say that I, frank Marshall Davis, a Duskyamericanborn December 31, 1905…have written this foreword in Chicago June 24, 1935”.


    “Dustyamerican”: Davis combines Dusty and American to create this nonce phrase describing African American. He follows in the wake of writers like James Weldon Johnson and George Schuyler. When Davis recited a poem he said:

    “Ashes to Ashes

    Dust to Dust

    Whiskey to drink

    And good booty to bust…” (Living the Blues p.72)

    This poetry resembles the opening lines to Obama’s poem called “Pop”

    “Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken

    In, sprinkled with ashes,

    Pop switches channels, takes another

    Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks

    (neat=straight whiskey)

    What to do with me, a green young man…”

    Note: the poem “Pop” may be a typological allusion to a line from “47th street” poem:

    “…At 47th street intersections

    In Chicago’s Congo

    Caucasian faces peer momentairily

    In curious contempt

    Then turn back to ‘Orphan Annie,” “Popeye”… (Obama “Pop” poem alludes his father’s eyes he calls “hooded eyes” in his book and of course Obama’s mother name is Ann)

    Unconsciously sure of superiority

    Within furnished apartment minds

    As the green buses snort (Obama’s “Pop” poem states he’s green and goes on to say he snorts cocaine later)

    From gasoline spurs

    Then gallop on….”

    It is of my opinion and several others like, Jack Cashill & Cliff Kincaid and a host of others, believe that Frank Davis either wrote “Pop” or worked on with Obama. Obama already admitted in his book Dreams From my father that Davis and Obama worked on writing dirty poetry together. ‘As the night wore on, the two of them (Davis & gramps) would solicit my help in composing dirty limericks” p.77

    IV. Dreams By Frank Marshall Davis

    Are children

    Who come at night

    To play make-believe


    This is what I thought when I read Dreams from my Father by Obama