LAUGHING AND CUMMING TO MONA WALESI write my remarks after watching the scene. To all the prudes out there, to all those who don't think they're prudes, you simply don't know what art is, the value of art, the truth of art, the reflection of art, the meaning of poetry, of literature, of being fully human and fully alive. The pure joy of it! The happiness! The danger of it in a world that would have us march like wooden soldiers in love, in relationships, in marriages. Marriage, yes, but marriage of all that is, of all that exists in us, the good, the bad, the profound. The end of world hatred. Of world anger. Of world domination. Of starvation in every form. Heaven on Earth is what we want and what we all should have and could have if we only opened our eyes and hearts and released our hungry souls. Rich Quatrone Dec 29 16 BLACK ON BLACK
Was on Facebook earlier and commented on black on black crime, which was the topic of this morning. Now my email account is inundated with black folks commenting and discussing the issue. I delete five or six and immediately five or six more comments appear in my email. This is a big issue. Black people are discussing like crazy. My remark is that white men kill white men all the time, with my implication that racists use black on black crime as fuel for their racism. A man replied what does white on white crime have to do with black people? And he's right. Black folks have to solve this problem of violence among themselves by themselves for themselves. As a well meaning white man, I can talk all day about the history and influences that create such violence. But this won't help or mean much at all. We all know the racist roots of America and the ongoing racism here. Malcolm X knew and preached that the black man had to take care of himself. He had to create his own businesses, his own community organizations, even his own religion. These truths remain true today. A white man like me can only support from the outside. Rich Quatrone New Year's Eve day 2016 |
MOM YOU WERE SO BEAUTIFUL
NIXON'S TREACHERY
Just read a piece in today's NYTimes. Johnson wanted to begin peace talks to end the war in Vietnam in 1968. Nixon undermined these efforts behind the scenes, through Republican allies, and through direct communication with the South Vietnamese government. At this point in the war, the Times reports, America had lost 30,000 soldiers, 28 thousand less than we eventually lost when we finally pulled out in 1973. Of course, there's no mention of the 3, 000, 000 Vietnamese killed in the war, or mention of how many of those lives would have been saved had Johnson prevailed. Why write a poem about this? Poems should be pretty things in language read by those at Harvard, Yale, or even poor cousin Rutgers. Poems should not be written directly to the people. Just as Johnson had no business trying to avoid so much unnecessary death. Rich Quatrone, New Year's Day, 2017 |
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SEPTEMBER 11, 2015
Fourteen years since that terrible day,
the day that changed everything,
the day that West said "niggerized" America,
the day Baraka said "now America can
take Everything," the day my son
called from his high school to
say the first plane hit and then
the second, the day Thuy-Duong
called and asked what to do and
I said go to your husband immediately,
to which she replied that I was her
husband, which I was not, the day
the buildings came straight down
into themselves defying the
laws of physics, the day a Hispanic
janitor heard internal explosions
and when he tried to report it to
the media was entirely silenced,
the day America became a fascist state,
a fact the Blacks have known for
400 years, the day we became frightened,
gullible children, begging our stern
father to tell us a fairy tale,
the day before Bush permitted
the entire Bin Laden family and
their associates to take off
from Boston's Logan airport
to leave the country while
all the skies were closed to
the rest of us, the day
just one month after the
American delegation walked out
of the Durban conference on world
poverty, the day two jets flown by
Arabs somehow penetrated American
security, somehow were not scrambled
by our fighter jets, which was routine
protocol, the day Americans stopped asking
sensible, courageous questions, questions
which if asked publically would lable
the sensible ones traitors, suspicious,
unpatriotic, anti America, would cause
them to be ostracized, to lose jobs,
friends, family, the day that began
these fourteen years of increased
international violence, increased violence
on American streets, the day a deep,
pervasive mental illness and despair
and fear grabbed America by the throat
and shook it silly, the day pathology
became the unspoken national anthem,
and now, 14 years later we are that much
further removed from the truth,
from our minds, from our hearts,
from love.
Rich Quatrone
September 11, 2015
the day that changed everything,
the day that West said "niggerized" America,
the day Baraka said "now America can
take Everything," the day my son
called from his high school to
say the first plane hit and then
the second, the day Thuy-Duong
called and asked what to do and
I said go to your husband immediately,
to which she replied that I was her
husband, which I was not, the day
the buildings came straight down
into themselves defying the
laws of physics, the day a Hispanic
janitor heard internal explosions
and when he tried to report it to
the media was entirely silenced,
the day America became a fascist state,
a fact the Blacks have known for
400 years, the day we became frightened,
gullible children, begging our stern
father to tell us a fairy tale,
the day before Bush permitted
the entire Bin Laden family and
their associates to take off
from Boston's Logan airport
to leave the country while
all the skies were closed to
the rest of us, the day
just one month after the
American delegation walked out
of the Durban conference on world
poverty, the day two jets flown by
Arabs somehow penetrated American
security, somehow were not scrambled
by our fighter jets, which was routine
protocol, the day Americans stopped asking
sensible, courageous questions, questions
which if asked publically would lable
the sensible ones traitors, suspicious,
unpatriotic, anti America, would cause
them to be ostracized, to lose jobs,
friends, family, the day that began
these fourteen years of increased
international violence, increased violence
on American streets, the day a deep,
pervasive mental illness and despair
and fear grabbed America by the throat
and shook it silly, the day pathology
became the unspoken national anthem,
and now, 14 years later we are that much
further removed from the truth,
from our minds, from our hearts,
from love.
Rich Quatrone
September 11, 2015
A review of THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF LEROI JONES
by Amiri Baraka
A Guide To Manhood
What's great and important about this book is that, yes, it is about one very special man's, a great, fierce poet's journey to manhood, but it is also one version of, if read closely, the journey every black man, even black woman, must take in America to become whole. It can almost be read as a guide in this regard, the peeling back of the huge, violent, false weight of white supremacist America from the backs, minds, souls of American blacks, or African Americans, or simply Africans who find themselves in a foreign, strange, unloving America for 400 years. Although Baraka would finally say, no, we are not merely Africans (just as I, the reviewer, am not merely Italian), but we are African Americans, as painful as this terrible fact has become the truth.
This book should be required reading in every high school and college in America if we really want to have one powerful look at what ails this country, why we continue to be so utterly violent, what the repressions, suppressions, lies we tell ourselves about who we continue to be.
Rich Quatrone
by Amiri Baraka
A Guide To Manhood
What's great and important about this book is that, yes, it is about one very special man's, a great, fierce poet's journey to manhood, but it is also one version of, if read closely, the journey every black man, even black woman, must take in America to become whole. It can almost be read as a guide in this regard, the peeling back of the huge, violent, false weight of white supremacist America from the backs, minds, souls of American blacks, or African Americans, or simply Africans who find themselves in a foreign, strange, unloving America for 400 years. Although Baraka would finally say, no, we are not merely Africans (just as I, the reviewer, am not merely Italian), but we are African Americans, as painful as this terrible fact has become the truth.
This book should be required reading in every high school and college in America if we really want to have one powerful look at what ails this country, why we continue to be so utterly violent, what the repressions, suppressions, lies we tell ourselves about who we continue to be.
Rich Quatrone
Nov 4th, 2015
“I got nothing against no Viet Cong. No Vietnamese ever called me a nigger.”
“I ain’t draft dodging. I ain’t burning no flag. I ain’t running to Canada. I’m sta...ying right here. You want to send me to jail? Fine, you go right ahead. I’ve been in jail for 400 years. I could be there for 4 or 5 more, but I ain’t going no 10,000 miles to help murder and kill other poor people. If I want to die, I’ll die right here, right now, fightin’ you, if I want to die."
"You my enemy, not no Chinese, no Vietcong, no Japanese. You my opposer when I want freedom. You my opposer when I want justice. You my opposer when I want equality. Want me to go somewhere and fight for you? You won’t even stand up for me right here in America, for my rights and my religious beliefs. You won’t even stand up for my right here at home.“
~ Muhammad Ali ~
“I got nothing against no Viet Cong. No Vietnamese ever called me a nigger.”
“I ain’t draft dodging. I ain’t burning no flag. I ain’t running to Canada. I’m sta...ying right here. You want to send me to jail? Fine, you go right ahead. I’ve been in jail for 400 years. I could be there for 4 or 5 more, but I ain’t going no 10,000 miles to help murder and kill other poor people. If I want to die, I’ll die right here, right now, fightin’ you, if I want to die."
"You my enemy, not no Chinese, no Vietcong, no Japanese. You my opposer when I want freedom. You my opposer when I want justice. You my opposer when I want equality. Want me to go somewhere and fight for you? You won’t even stand up for me right here in America, for my rights and my religious beliefs. You won’t even stand up for my right here at home.“
~ Muhammad Ali ~
