Tag Archives: Poetry

Gil Scott-Heron @ BB King Blues Club

Gil Scott HeronGil Scott-Heron

November 4, 2009 – BB King Blues Club, NYC
237 West 42nd Street, between 7th Avenue and 8th Avenue.
 
Poet, musician, activist, author, bluesologist. These are all terms that have been used to describe the great Gil Scott-Heron, who more humbly refers to himself simply as a “piano player from Tennessee”. Most famous for his era-defining 1970′s poem, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” Gil Scott-Heron’s politically charged material made him a stalwart figure in the 1970′s civil rights movement. His lyrical content covered topics like the superficiality of television and mass consumerism, the hypocrisy of some would-be Black revolutionaries and white middle-class ignorance of the difficulties faced by inner-city residents.  Not only a pioneer of blues, jazz and funk, his honesty, matter-of-fact delivery and fearlessness to address important social issues in the face of media criticism made him one of the foremost progenitors of contemporary hip-hop and spoken word.. Expect an incredible new CD in early 2010.
 
Doors at 6:00pm, Show at 8:00pm
NB:  General Admission – First come, first seated
$30 adv, $35 at door
VIP Booths available for four to six people; must buy whole booth|Tix/Booth for four:  $200  /  Tix/Booth for six:  $300
Tickets may be purchased through Ticketmaster, online at ticketmaster.com or 212-307-7171.
 
Tickets can be purchased in person at our box office from 10:30 am to midnight every night.
 
Unless otherwise noted, all shows are suitable for all ages and offer general admission seating. Seating for all shows is first come, first seated; we do not take advance table reservation, except where noted as a condition of a VIP ticket.  We cannot seat incomplete parties.  Standing room for all shows is available at our bar.
 
For further show information, directions to the venue and for the latest updates visit us at www.bbkingblues.com  or call 212-997-4144.
 

Produced by Jill Newman Productions

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Filed under ART | CULTURE | WRITING, Black Culture | United States, Hip Hop, Historic Black Politics & Figures, Movement & Message Music, Poetry, R&B, The Blues File

William Wordsworth | Character of the Happy Warrior

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he
That every man in arms should wish to be?
—It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought:
Whose high endeavours are an inward light
That makes the path before him always bright;
Who, with a natural instinct to discern
What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn;
Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,
But makes his moral being his prime care;
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain,
And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train!
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Which is our human nature’s highest dower:
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves
Of their bad influence, and their good receives:
By objects, which might force the soul to abate
Her feeling, rendered more compassionate;
Is placable—because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure,
As tempted more; more able to endure,
As more exposed to suffering and distress;
Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.
—’Tis he whose law is reason; who depends
Upon that law as on the best of friends;
Whence, in a state where men are tempted still
To evil for a guard against worse ill,
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,
He labours good on good to fix, and owes
To virtue every triumph that he knows:
—Who, if he rise to station of command,
Rises by open means; and there will stand
On honourable terms, or else retire,
And in himself possess his own desire;
Who comprehends his trust, and to the same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait
For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state;
Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall,
Like showers of manna, if they come at all:
Whose powers shed round him in the common strife,
Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace;
But who, if he be called upon to face
Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined
Great issues, good or bad for human kind,
Is happy as a Lover; and attired
With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired;
And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw;
Or if an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the need:
—He who, though thus endued as with a sense
And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes;
Sweet images! which, wheresoe’er he be,
Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve;
More brave for this, that he hath much to love:—
‘Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high,
Conspicuous object in a Nation’s eye,
Or left unthought-of in obscurity,—
Who, with a toward or untoward lot,
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not—
Plays, in the many games of life, that one
Where what he most doth value must be won:
Whom neither shape or danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray;
Who, not content that former worth stand fast,
Looks forward, persevering to the last,
From well to better, daily self-surpast:
Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth
For ever, and to noble deeds give birth,
Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame,
And leave a dead unprofitable name—
Finds comfort in himself and in his cause;
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws
His breath in confidence of Heaven’s applause:
This is the happy Warrior; this is he
That every man in arms should wish to be.

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Marge Piercy | Who’s Naïve? | Sneak and Peek

Monthly Review

 

Marge Piercy

Marge Piercy

Marge Piercy is the author of Pesach for the Rest of Us: Making the Passover Seder Your Own (Schocken, 2007). Her most recent novel is Sex Wars: A Novel of the Turbulent Post-Civil War Period (New York: William Morrow, 2005) and her newest book of poetry is The Crooked Inheritance (Knopf, 2006).

 

Who’s Naïve?

A young woman said to me
you guys in the sixties were so
naïve. How could you ever believe
there would be a revolution?

Oh, child of the oughts, did you
ever believe Wall Street would
turn out to be a sham, stocks
made of piffle and hype?

Did you ever believe General
Motors would come to tax
payers cup in hand begging
not to go out of business?

Did you ever believe we would
go to war on a lie? That one
president could fuck up every
thing standing in just eight years?

That we would elect an African
American president? That in some
states, lesbians and gays could marry?
That greed might go out of style?

What I’ve learned on my hard
scrabble way is that nothing remains
but trouble and love and opportunity
we can make to change what needs it.

Copyright © 2009 Marge Piercy.
Reprinted with permission.

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Filed under American Culture, American Progressive Politics, ART | CULTURE | WRITING, Feminist Leaders, Poetry

THE LAST POETS | Niggers Are Scared Of Revolution! | Jazzoetry | When The Revolution Comes

The Last Poets

The Last Poets

    • Umar Bin HASSAN – voice

    • Abiodun OYEWOLE – voice

    • Don BABATUNDE Eaton – percussion


WEBSITE -http://www.myspace.com/thelastpoetsdotnet

INTERVIEW WITH PerfectSoundForver-http://www.furious.com/perfect/lastpoets.html

GROUP BIO - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Poets

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Filed under Movement & Message Music, Poetry, Soul

Denise Levertov | “Prayer for Revolutionary Love”

That a woman not ask a man to leave meaningful work to follow her.
That a man not ask a woman to leave meaningful work to follow him.

That no one try to put Eros in bondage.
But that no one put a cudgel in the hands of Eros.

That our loyalty to one another and our loyalty to our work not be set in false conflict.

That our love for each other give us love for each other’s work.
That our love for each other’s work give us love for each other.

That our love for each other, if need be, give way to absence. And the unknown.

That we endure absence, if need be, without losing our love for each other. Without closing our doors to the unknown.

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Filed under American Culture, Poetry