Poem here says, Comment #1

Uh, Comment #2 is dynamite

But Comment #1 is the one we decided

To use here this evening

Because it makes a comment if you listen

Closely on what is now being advertised

In East Harlem as the "Rainbow Conspiracy" - a combination of

The Students For A Democratic Society

The Black Panthers, and the Young Lords

And this is my particular comment about that conspiracy, "Comment #1":

The time is in the street you know

Us living as we do upside down

And the new word to have is revolution

People don't even want to hear the preacher spill or spiel

Because God's hole card has been thoroughly piqued

And America is now blood and tears instead of milk and honey

The youngsters who were programmed

To continue fucking up woke up one night

Digging Paul Revere and Nat Turner as the good guys. America stripped

For bed and we had not all yet closed our eyes. The signs of Truth

Were tattooed across our often-entered vagina

We learned to our amazement untold tale of scandal

Two long centuries buried in the musty vault

Hosed down daily with a gagging perfume

America was a bastard the illegitimate daughter

Of the mother country whose legs

Were then spread around the world

And a rapist known as freedom: free doom

Democracy, liberty, and justice were

Revolutionary code names that preceded

The bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling

Bubbling in the mother country's crotch

And behold a baby girl was born

Nurtured by slave holders and whitey racists

It grew and grew and grew screwing

Indiscriminately like mother, like daughter

Everything unplagued by her madame mother

The present mocks us, good Black people

With keen memories set fire to the bastards

Who ask us in a whisper to melt and integrate

Young, very young, teeny

Bopping revolt on weekend young dig

By proxy what a mental ass kicking

They receive through institutionalized everything

And vomit up slogans to stay out of Vietnam

They seek to hide their relationship with the world's prostitute

Alienating themselves from everything

Except dirt and money with long hair, grime, and dope

To camo-hide the things that cannot be hidden

They become runaway children to walk the streets downtown with everyday

Black people sitting on the curb

Crying because we know that they will go back

Home with a clear conscience and a college degree

The irony of it all, of course

Is when a pale face SDS motherfucker dares

Look hurt when I tell him to go find his own revolution

He wonders why I tell him that America's revolution

Will not be the melting pot but the toilet bowl

He is fighting for legalized smoke, or lower voting age

Less lip from his generation gap and fucking in the street

Where is my parallel to that?

All I want is a good home and a wife and a children

And some food to feed them every night

Back goes pale face to basics

Does Little Orphan Annie have a natural?

Do Sluggo's kinks make him a refugee from Mandingo?

What does Webster's say about soul?

I say you silly trite motherfucker, your great grandfather

Tied a ball and chain to my balls

And bounced me through a cotton field

While I lived in an unflushable toilet bowl

And now you want me to help you overthrow what?

The only Truth that can be delivered to a four year

Revolutionary with a hole card i.e. skin is this:

Fuck up what you can in the name of

Piggy Wallace, Dickless Nixon, and Spiro Agnew

Leave brother Cleaver and Brother Malcolm alone please

After all is said and done build a new route to China if they'll have you

Who will survive in America?