Black Poetry : Why You Talk Like That?

1poetsought

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Jan 14, 2003
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The Lone-Star State
Occupation
Poet
Poetry by Malcolm London


Why you talk like that?

With fake bass in your voice

Like you got foundation

Why you talk like that?

Speak up like police lights on street posts

Up

Like that like

Surveillance

Can you see me?

The cabrini green growing in your esophagus

Talk like you

Waiting to be gentrified

Why you talk like that?

Like coffee?

Black but not strong like they like their coffee

Integrated

Obeying the cream

Talk like a playground

In your lungs

While you hyde park and breathe

In bravado

In belligerence

I see you native to these west side Americas

I hear the colonialism in your dialect

Where you grew up

Where you belonged

Loose squares is a mantra

Slurred words like liquor store was on the corner

Of your cheeks

See your tongue

Crisp and crossed

Like your mamma raise you

On crucifixion

Like she pray

You never come home in a coffin

Like she know

These predators pray

More often

Often you speak like you can make institutions disappear

Like magic

Like voodoo in your veins

Like you dream

Of new order

Or New Orleans

Talk like you immune to Katrina

This hurricane

Of injustice

Why your slang move like

Mississippi did migrated

Into your saliva

Dixie line dictions

Stirred in kitchens

In pots

Of collard greens

Turkey necks

And sweet potato pie

You sweet talk

Like you met at the intersection of Arsenio Hall and Fresh Prince

Transit authority

That transition to 26th and California

Is easy for you

You grew up

Spitting boss

Taste buds grew up

On police brutality

Dished out in cooke county

You spit like you thirsty

Like you been wading in the water

Of parasites and low income

Your mouth didn’t dry suppressing all that struggle

The thesaurus in your throat clogs like a word

But struggle

In other words

You talk like you never been north

Never been freed

Like you ignored

Like you need to be heard

Like your story has a history

You aren’t allowed to know

Like you got something to say

What do you think of poet Malcolm London’s message and meaning? What do you read in his poems?
 
I read it as an antithetical piece, i.e., he expressed opposite sides: one speaking like white supremacy versus speaking like "Aluta Continua," the struggle continues, the struggle is real.

IMO, this poem is about how when one Black man hears another Black man talk like he don't know, like he don't understand what's going on, he wonders, "Why you talk like that?"..sounding like you didn't come up Black------And the other side is how the former wonders the same, "Why u talk like that, sounding like you angry, like you aint got it good?"
 
...This piece reminded me of this poem written in 1954 by Dudley Randall>>>>>>>

Booker T. and W.E.B."

"It seems to me," said Booker T.,
"It shows a mighty lot of cheek
To study chemistry and Greek
When Mister Charlie needs a hand
To hoe the cotton on his land,
And when Miss Ann looks for a cook,
Why stick your nose inside a book?"
"I don't agree," said W.E.B.,
"If I should have the drive to seek
Knowledge of chemistry or Greek,
I'll do it. Charles and Miss can look
Another place for hand or cook.
Some men rejoice in skill of hand,
And some in cultivating land,
But there are others who maintain
The right to cultivate the brain."
"It seems to me," said Booker T.,
"That all you folks have missed the
boat
Who shout about the right to vote,
And spend vain days and sleepless
nights
In uproar over civil rights.
Just keep your mouths shut, do not
grouse,
But work, and save, and buy a house."
"I don't agree," said W.E.B.,
"For what can property avail
If dignity and justice fail.
Unless you help to make the laws,
They'll steal your house with
trumped-up clause.
A rope's as tight, a fire as hot,
No matter how much cash you've got.
Speak soft, and try your little plan,
But as for me, I'll be a man."
"It seems to me," said Booker T. --
"I don't agree,"
Said W.E.B.
 
...This piece reminded me of this poem written in 1954 by Dudley Randall>>>>>>>

Booker T. and W.E.B."

"It seems to me," said Booker T.,
"It shows a mighty lot of cheek
To study chemistry and Greek
When Mister Charlie needs a hand
To hoe the cotton on his land,
And when Miss Ann looks for a cook,
Why stick your nose inside a book?"
"I don't agree," said W.E.B.,
"If I should have the drive to seek
Knowledge of chemistry or Greek,
I'll do it. Charles and Miss can look
Another place for hand or cook.
Some men rejoice in skill of hand,
And some in cultivating land,
But there are others who maintain
The right to cultivate the brain."
"It seems to me," said Booker T.,
"That all you folks have missed the
boat
Who shout about the right to vote,
And spend vain days and sleepless
nights
In uproar over civil rights.
Just keep your mouths shut, do not
grouse,
But work, and save, and buy a house."
"I don't agree," said W.E.B.,
"For what can property avail
If dignity and justice fail.
Unless you help to make the laws,
They'll steal your house with
trumped-up clause.
A rope's as tight, a fire as hot,
No matter how much cash you've got.
Speak soft, and try your little plan,
But as for me, I'll be a man."
"It seems to me," said Booker T. --
"I don't agree,"
Said W.E.B.

Thanks for sharing, sister.
 

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