Parable of the No People
No, no, no! That is all you say. Everything about you is no. Your lips say no, your eyes, your heart, your mind, your arms, your legs, your feet. You are a no person. I run from you. You say no to God. I am afraid of your no touch. I cannot expand my mind around no people. You will kill my spiritual development. No no no no!
When you say yes to life you open the world of infinite possibilities. I understand no part of no, only infinite possibilities. No does not exist in my world, only yes. Yes to love. Yes to success, yes to hope, yes to truth, yes to prosperity, yet to divinity, yes to resurrection, yes to ascension, yes to eternity. I am the language of yes. If you cannot say yes, get away from me. I run from you, want nothing to do with you. There is no hope for you until you open your mouth to yes.
Cast away the yes fear. Let it go, let God. Yes. No matter what, yes. No matter how long, yes.
No matter how hard, yes. Let there be peace in the house, yes. Let there be love between you and me, yes. Let there be revolution in the land, over the world, yes. We will try harder, yes, we won't give up, yes. We shall triumph, yes. Yes is the language of God. Yes is the language of Divinity, Spirituality.
No matter how hard, yes. Let there be peace in the house, yes. Let there be love between you and me, yes. Let there be revolution in the land, over the world, yes. We will try harder, yes, we won't give up, yes. We shall triumph, yes. Yes is the language of God. Yes is the language of Divinity, Spirituality.
All the prophets ssaid yes. Adam said yes, Abraham said yes. Moses said yes. Solomon said yes.
Job said yes. Jeremiah, Isaiah said yes. The lover in Song of Solomon said yes. David said yes.
John and Jesus sasid yes. Muhammad said yes. Elijah and Malcolm, Martin and Garvey, Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth said yes. Fannie Lou and Rosa Parks, Betty Shabazz and Coretta Scott ssaid yes.
Job said yes. Jeremiah, Isaiah said yes. The lover in Song of Solomon said yes. David said yes.
John and Jesus sasid yes. Muhammad said yes. Elijah and Malcolm, Martin and Garvey, Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth said yes. Fannie Lou and Rosa Parks, Betty Shabazz and Coretta Scott ssaid yes.
Mama and daddy said yes. Grandma and grandpa said yes. All the ancestors said yes. Forevermore, let go of no and say yes. Dance to yes. Shout to yes!
--Marvin Xfrom Beyond Religion, toward Spirituality, Black Bird Press, Berkeley, 2007
Parable of Family
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Parable of Dr. Yacoub's America
In the populist black studies of Elijah Muhammad, we are taught a big-head
scientist genetically engineered the white man by separating the
dominant and recessive genes from the aboriginal Asiatic black man.
Yacoub's bio tech lab was not much different from the bio-tech labs
operating in Berkeley and Emeryville, a few blocks from my house. We
have no doubt they have cloned a man in these labs, but are simply
delaying the announcement.
According to Elijah's Myth of Yacoub, the young scientist found the
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Parable of King Tut
There was a man spoiled rotten by women, wives and lovers. One of his several mother-in-laws said she never saw a man treated so royally as her daughter treated him. He got breakfast in bed, lunch in bed, dinner in bed. Her daughter waited on him as if he were King Tut!
And other women did the same. He wished they would not do this to him, but of course he went along for the ride.
The people, men and women, loved him because he was intelligent and dedicated to the people. His life was a sacrifice to the people and their struggle for freedom.
Actually, he lived a spartan life with nothing of value except his writings. And they would only become valuable on the day he died, according to friends who kept his writings in their archives for that fateful day no man escapes. They made sure he autographed everything he gave or sold them.
The men loved him as much as the women. He couldn't understand why men wanted to kiss him on the cheek. He wondered if they were gay or just sincerely appreciative of the good works he did for the people.
One brother from his childhood in West Oakland told him the people were proud of him and could see he was doing something unique that no one else was doing, making himself accessible to the common people as few intellectuals and artists would dare attempt.
One of the bourgeoisie intellectuals said selling his books to the common people would be like trying to sell stakes to vegetarians. But brotherman either sold or gave away freely his books to the common people. Or he would give them credit and the people would come by weeks later with the money.
His latest book is priced at $100.00 (one hundred dollars), not because he gives a damn about money, but he wants people to appreciate the value of his labor, often writing 24/7 without a break except for a brief nap or two.
He noted the true value of a hamburger is priced at $200.00 when factored in the slave labor of tomato pickers, lettuce and cucumber pickers, also the damage to the health of field workers subjected to dangerous insecticides and pesticides. And the animals do damage to the environment and the health of consumers because the beef producers use growth hormones to expedite meat to the market place. The growth hormones in the meat have a negative effect on the health of consumers, causing a variety of diseases the cost of which is astronomical.
So why should he not charge $100.00 for his book that he labored intensely to produce, doing all the work himself, writing, editing, proofreading, supervising the printing and promotion?
Maybe he deserved having sisters clean his house on their hands and knees. Maybe he deserved his meals in bed, or getting his sexual needs met by prostitutes since he was a single man.
Some say he is the most prolific writer in America, authoring a book a month, according to his comrades in the arts, the Last Poets. He finished his memoir of Eldridge Cleaver in three weeks, in public view online as he published each chapter daily, probably the first book in history written in public view.
Believe it or not, he hated praise and was the frequent victim of theft by friends. But he didn't care, it was flattering and gave him material to write about. As Bob Marley said, with my friends I don't need enemies!
He was a recluse who rarely comes out except to teach at his Academy of Da Corner, downtown Oakland at 14th and Broadway or at the Berkeley Flea market.
Sister Aeshah Kokoman said he was a deep sea diver who rarely comes up for air, and when he does it is only for a moment.
![Re: Good Places For Black Men to Meet Eligible Black Women...]()
She was a square bitch, sophisticated Spelman bitch, til Dante turned her out, made her a stripper, climbing up and down poles like a monkey.
She stripped til her mama and daddy came and got her and took her home for a rest. But she soon returned to college and Dante turned her out again, this time at the dope house, stripping, sucking and fucking the brothers and sisters in the dope house. Strung out so tough she rented out to the dope man the BMW her daddy bought for her when she first got to college. She waited outside the dope house all weekend til the dope man returned her car. Square bitch. Know everything dumb ass bitch.
Took two courses in Black Studies and claimed she knew all of African history, knew who she was and nobody could tell her shit. She was an educated black woman. But when she got a chance to travel abroad, she went to Europe rather than Africa. Said she wasn't ready for Africa. Nor was she interested in that Black Lives Matter bullshit, all lives mattered to her, specially when she met a hipster named Brando. Brando taught her color doesn't matter, so she believed him, until they got drunk one night and he called her his nigger bitch. The real nigguh came out of her and she slapped him, called him a low life peckerwood white trash bastard. When neighbors heard the noise and called the police, they came and saw Brando had bruises on his face, so they took her black ass to jail. Her mama and daddy sent money to bail her out.
She left Brando and slipped back into the hood looking for Dante. Dante told her, "I don't want yo punk ass, bitch. Go back to that peckerwood motherfucker, you funky ho!" She begged Dante, "Please, please, Dante, I just wanna be black again, please take me back, I'll do anything.""Ok, bitch, get me a choosin fee and hurry up. You know what to do." Miss Square bitch got on the phone to some tricks so she could get Dante's choosin fee. She got it together and presented it to Dante. He said, "Ok, bitch, don't give me no motherfuckin trouble. Don't you ever again tell me about some motherfuckin boundaries. You do whatever the fuck I tell you quick and in a hurry, you hear me, bitch?""Yes, Dante."
She moved in with Dante and his other ho's and they were all happy together for a time.
--Marvin X
7/31/15
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Parable of Family
Family is all there is, nothing else exists, no love, no hate, more than family. No matter the pain, shame, envy, lust, murder, let there be family. Revolution is for family, a unity, reconstruction of trust, faith, all for family. No matter the abandonment, mental illness, incest, yet it is family for the new day, for the tradition of ancestors, for the living and yet unborn. Family. Hate them, love them, but they are there live in breathing color, in blood, sweat and tears. Family.
Jesus said to hell with them. Godfather Part II taught us beware of them, they will plot against you, murder you, lie to you. Family. But to see them gathered together, even with their negrocities is a wonder, the generations, the elders, adults, youth, children, grandchildren. This is the best it gets on this earth.
Hide from them, run from them, deny them will not suffice for they shall rise again into the sun, they are there in the moon, family, gushing forth like some volcano to spill forth the lava of love in the midst of pain, sorrow, remorse, grief, the love is there in the wind, see it, smell it, family. My family is the united nations, the African, European, Latin, flowing in the blood of us, tweeking us for some future time of understanding, not now in the chaos of the cross and lynching tree. Family. Beaten by storm and money, depression and memory, yet must come together to form the forbidden tree of unity, like the garden we must no longer eat forbidden fruit, but eat of the tree of truth and righteousness. Family.
How will it end, how did it begin, no matter, we are here and beautiful, full of the God spirit beyond ourselves, our fears and years of hidden truth, the closet tales, wails, horror in the night, ghost stories and myths revealed only at the cemetery, the secret trauma of children keep hidden til uncle joe died and cousin mary. We didn't know dad had all those other kids, we didn't know him at all really. He was a preacher and man of the road, but then we found his truth on that fateful day when God reveals all. Family.
Watch the children grow tall, then the grandchildren. What wonder is this, what drama, what awesome revelation of God. The DNA leaves no doubt, the blood of ancestors is alive and well, who can deny, don't even try, the cause is lost to glory of the King.
Parable of Dr. Yacoub's America
In the populist black studies of Elijah Muhammad, we are taught a big-head
scientist genetically engineered the white man by separating the
dominant and recessive genes from the aboriginal Asiatic black man.
Yacoub's bio tech lab was not much different from the bio-tech labs
operating in Berkeley and Emeryville, a few blocks from my house. We
have no doubt they have cloned a man in these labs, but are simply
delaying the announcement.
According to Elijah's Myth of Yacoub, the young scientist found the
magnetic attraction between two pieces of steel. We maintain America
is the land of Yacoub's children who love playing with steel. America
spends a trillion dollars making weapons of steel, making her the number
one arms merchant of the world. Children in the hood (and the suburbs) are addicted to steel
as well, whether guns to mainly kill each other or cars they turn into weapons
of destruction, using cars in "side shows" where people are needlessly injured
or killed. The children will stand in the street or walk directly into a two thousand pound
piece of steel and plastic, fearing nothing. If you stop before hitting
them, they will curse you and/or pull out a piece of steel to shoot you.
They use steel to resolve all disputes, sometimes before a discussion
or conflict resolution.
Yocoub utilized three workers on his bio-tech project: the doctor, nurse
piece of steel and plastic, fearing nothing. If you stop before hitting
them, they will curse you and/or pull out a piece of steel to shoot you.
They use steel to resolve all disputes, sometimes before a discussion
or conflict resolution.
Yocoub utilized three workers on his bio-tech project: the doctor, nurse
and undertaker. These workers conspired to create the man of steel or devil.
They practiced a form of selective breeding, allowing the black to mate with
a brown and a brown with a lighter person until the white devil was created
after hundreds of years, 600 to be exact. Two blacks were not allowed to mate in this
experiment. Even today, there are some blacks who demand their children
not marry another black skinned person, only someone lighter. This is no
doubt residue from the Yacoubian psychopathology. If two blacks
produced a baby, the doctor, nurse and undertaker would conspire to
murder the baby to keep the experiment on track.
In modern America, we must note the three workers, doctor, nurse and undertaker,
are aided and abetted by workers from the petrochemical and
pharmaceutical industry, who are determined to fulfill their wish, "let
us make a man." The petrochemical workers produce the food in oil, not
earth. As much as possible the crops are genetically engineered. If not,
they are created by a healthy dose of insecticides, pesticides,
herbicides, fertilizers and dyes.
Naturally, the oil based rather than soil based food leads Yacoub's children
experiment. Even today, there are some blacks who demand their children
not marry another black skinned person, only someone lighter. This is no
doubt residue from the Yacoubian psychopathology. If two blacks
produced a baby, the doctor, nurse and undertaker would conspire to
murder the baby to keep the experiment on track.
In modern America, we must note the three workers, doctor, nurse and undertaker,
are aided and abetted by workers from the petrochemical and
pharmaceutical industry, who are determined to fulfill their wish, "let
us make a man." The petrochemical workers produce the food in oil, not
earth. As much as possible the crops are genetically engineered. If not,
they are created by a healthy dose of insecticides, pesticides,
herbicides, fertilizers and dyes.
Naturally, the oil based rather than soil based food leads Yacoub's children
directly from the fruit of petrochemical workers into the hands of pharmaceutical workers in
league with the doctor, nurse and undertaker. The prescription drug
dealers connect with insurance companies to guide the patient into the
hands of the doctor, nurse and undertaker.
When poor Michael Jackson was found dead at the hands of his doctor, we knew the Myth of
Yacoub was alive and well. Michael was so addicted to the Myth of Yacoub
that he exceeded the limit of propriety in attempting to alter his
blackness in favor of the Yacoubian ideal of whiteness. But note his
doctor administered the hemlock that took him into oblivion.
There is almost no way to avoid the scheme or conspiracy of the Yacoubian
team of workers, the petrochemical, pharmaceutical, medical and funeral
agents.
When a man entered prison, the inmates warned him, "Don't get sick.
league with the doctor, nurse and undertaker. The prescription drug
dealers connect with insurance companies to guide the patient into the
hands of the doctor, nurse and undertaker.
When poor Michael Jackson was found dead at the hands of his doctor, we knew the Myth of
Yacoub was alive and well. Michael was so addicted to the Myth of Yacoub
that he exceeded the limit of propriety in attempting to alter his
blackness in favor of the Yacoubian ideal of whiteness. But note his
doctor administered the hemlock that took him into oblivion.
There is almost no way to avoid the scheme or conspiracy of the Yacoubian
team of workers, the petrochemical, pharmaceutical, medical and funeral
agents.
When a man entered prison, the inmates warned him, "Don't get sick.
Whatever you do, don't get sick up in here. There's a prison graveyard
full of nigguhs who got sick." And so it is the same in America, don't get sick.
Yacoub's team of workers are eagerly awaiting you, sharpening their knives
until you get to the doctor and nurse, and finally the undertaker.
The only solution is to avoid living in the stress zone, for dis-ease is brought
The only solution is to avoid living in the stress zone, for dis-ease is brought
about from stress, thus the food (petrochemical) is useless and dangerous; the medicine
(pharmaceutical) is useless and dangerous as it is not designed to heal
only prolong the illness unto death. Part of the last rites administered
to the victim of Yacoubism is that ride in a black steel hearse.
--Marvin X
11/21/10
(pharmaceutical) is useless and dangerous as it is not designed to heal
only prolong the illness unto death. Part of the last rites administered
to the victim of Yacoubism is that ride in a black steel hearse.
--Marvin X
11/21/10
Parable of the Rats by Marvin X
The rats all have the same gait: they scurry about, back broken by an abundance of lies, half-truths and disinformation, defamation and other tactics of rat behavior. Even their facial expressions have a rat like appearance, so you can see them coming a mile away. You can smell a funky rat. We suspect the two legged variety even has a tail hidden inside their pants or underneath their dresses, yes, there are rats of every gender, every color, class. Some are sewer rats, some are wharf rats, some are subway rats, church rats, house rats. But their behavior is the same. They are on the lower level of humankind, these two legged rats. They can do nothing right. They cannot give justice even with the scale in view while they weigh goods. They will lie while you look at them playing with the scale. They will try to convince you the scale doesn't work while it is their minds that have not evolved to work on the human level.
There is only one thing to do with such rats: set a trap for them or feed them poison cheese and watch them puke and vomit until they die. Better yet, let the cat catch their asses. It is beautiful watching the cat catch a rat, seeing how still the cat will become while stalking his prey. But the cat will lie in wait for the rat as long as it takes, never moving, never batting his eye. And then he leaps upon his prey and devours him. It is a beautiful sight when when the cat and rat game reaches the climax and ends with the consumption of the rat by the cat.
--Marvin X
7/15/15
Parable of the Penguin
The news broadcaster announced several motorists thought they spotted a penguin waddling along the freeway. Since the freeway was inland, the announcer wondered how was it possible for the little creature to find its way to the freeway. He said the highway patrol was coming to the scene and would try its best to safely rescue the little bird, but when the patrolman arrived at the scene, the creature was elusive, but he was certain they could capture the bird as it waddled along.
A short time later the newsman interrupted the program with a correction. They had made a mistake about the penguin. It wasn't a penguin as originally reported. The waddling creature was actually a diminutive teenager with his pants sagging.
He was arrested for being under the influence of drugs and taken to the mental hospital for observation. He was also given a citation for indecent exposure.
--Marvin X
4/25/10
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 24, 2007
Parable of the Pan African Hood
By Marvin X
"The reactionaries will never put down their butcher knives,
they will never turn into Buddha heads."--Mao
We are talking about a condition in the hearts of men, an evil sore festering and stinking like rotten meat, to use that Langston Hughes metaphor. It is a spiritual disease more prevalent than HIV, for it consumes whole countries, not only Pan Africa, but it may be said to originate in Europe because lying and murder is the great theme of this culture, and Africa and Africans throughout the Diaspora are victimized and suffer this malady equally with their colonial Mother. See how Europe butchered the butcher's sons in Iraq, or is this the democratic way of life she is bringing to the sand nigguhs?
The problem is how to throw off the vestiges of colonialism to become the New Man and New Woman. Of course, we must first recognize how sick colonialism has made us throughout Pan Africa. Somehow we must bow down and ask forgiveness of our Higher Power, the ancestors, the living and the yet unborn. There must be a cleansing ritual performed until the mud and slime of Western culture is purged from our minds, bodies and souls.
The Western gods must be destroyed, crushed to the earth and stomped into eternity, for they have blessed us with ignorance, superstition, greed, lust and pure evil, allowing us to become worse than beasts in the field, committing the worse atrocities, yea, even worse than all the teaching of our colonial masters.
No doubt Africa is paying for the great sin of sending her sons and daughters into slavery. Has Africa asked forgiveness of herself, yet she wails for apology from the slave master's children. Has she given reparations to her descendants lost in the wilderness of North America? Has she ever sent a symbolic ship or plane to bring them home? So Pan Africa lives a slow death because she allows corrupt, boastful, arrogant leaders to control her nations, her leaders shelter each other, covering their multiple sins, protecting themselves from people's justice who would rightfully hang them like Mussolini and his wife.
Like jack in the box, Pan Africa must jump out of her iniquities, she must call forth the divine energy within the bowels of her soul and step into the New Day of light, breath and health. She cannot allow her children to devour her from coast to coast, sea to sea, from America to Africa, but children only mock the behavior of adults, so we cannot blame them, children are children, so adults must step to the front of the line, no matter how busy they are doing nothing, for they are surely doing nothing if the village is in chaos, security being the top priority of civilization.
Everyone must become the central command, every man and woman must be about the business of teaching new values, new ways of thinking and acting that are not harmful to the human soul and the human condition.
The world is so full of wisdom it escapes us because our quest is for the trivial, the low things of life, not the things in the upper room, but those in the basement, in the gutter of our minds and hearts, that is were we dwell, that is our focus and this is why we suffer. Kobe gives his wife a four million dollar rock, but will it placate her soul, will material things correct a spiritual problem of faith and trust?
The West has a sordid history buying people as Pan Africa can attest, but everyone is not for sale, those of integrity will jump ship, will eat the whip and the gun, for persecution is worse than slaughter, the Qur'an teaches.
No, physical weapons cannot solve the problem. Look at Israel, she has the all the modern weapons but she cannot defeat the spirit of a people determined to be free. So Pan Africa's children can and must be disarmed by a new consciousness. Even Fidel Castro has said the new weapon is consciousness!
Like Johnny Apple Seed, we must go about spreading consciousness, teaching unconditional love and forgiveness, sharing knowledge and wealth with the poor and ignorant, the brokenhearted and oppressed. I am not trying to be sentimental, but we can and must flip the script as they say in the hood.
Again, like Jack, we must jump out the box of mental and physical oppression by taking a new look at reality, by stopping a moment to wonder at the pleasure in the sun, the trees, the sea and mountains, the glory of being alive each moment to share human love, being grateful we have a moment on this earth to whisper truth to children that they may rise and be a pleasure to the ancestors watching from everywhere. Yes, we must transcend block man and block woman, the block within ourselves even, and reach forth into the realm of new possibilities, not allowing evil and her brothers and sisters to control the air and sun that comes each day blessing us with another moment to walk in the light, escaping the darkness of ignorance, greed, lust and violence.
Black men, go into the hood and take the guns from your sons, yes the sons you abandoned, neglected and rejected, the sons who look like you although you deny this, the sons who walk with sad hearts, hardened because they long for you, for your love and guidance, for your wisdom and strength, after all, Mama did all she could to raise her manchild in the promised land.
--Marvin X
By Marvin X
"The reactionaries will never put down their butcher knives,
they will never turn into Buddha heads."--Mao
We are talking about a condition in the hearts of men, an evil sore festering and stinking like rotten meat, to use that Langston Hughes metaphor. It is a spiritual disease more prevalent than HIV, for it consumes whole countries, not only Pan Africa, but it may be said to originate in Europe because lying and murder is the great theme of this culture, and Africa and Africans throughout the Diaspora are victimized and suffer this malady equally with their colonial Mother. See how Europe butchered the butcher's sons in Iraq, or is this the democratic way of life she is bringing to the sand nigguhs?
The problem is how to throw off the vestiges of colonialism to become the New Man and New Woman. Of course, we must first recognize how sick colonialism has made us throughout Pan Africa. Somehow we must bow down and ask forgiveness of our Higher Power, the ancestors, the living and the yet unborn. There must be a cleansing ritual performed until the mud and slime of Western culture is purged from our minds, bodies and souls.
The Western gods must be destroyed, crushed to the earth and stomped into eternity, for they have blessed us with ignorance, superstition, greed, lust and pure evil, allowing us to become worse than beasts in the field, committing the worse atrocities, yea, even worse than all the teaching of our colonial masters.
No doubt Africa is paying for the great sin of sending her sons and daughters into slavery. Has Africa asked forgiveness of herself, yet she wails for apology from the slave master's children. Has she given reparations to her descendants lost in the wilderness of North America? Has she ever sent a symbolic ship or plane to bring them home? So Pan Africa lives a slow death because she allows corrupt, boastful, arrogant leaders to control her nations, her leaders shelter each other, covering their multiple sins, protecting themselves from people's justice who would rightfully hang them like Mussolini and his wife.
Like jack in the box, Pan Africa must jump out of her iniquities, she must call forth the divine energy within the bowels of her soul and step into the New Day of light, breath and health. She cannot allow her children to devour her from coast to coast, sea to sea, from America to Africa, but children only mock the behavior of adults, so we cannot blame them, children are children, so adults must step to the front of the line, no matter how busy they are doing nothing, for they are surely doing nothing if the village is in chaos, security being the top priority of civilization.
Everyone must become the central command, every man and woman must be about the business of teaching new values, new ways of thinking and acting that are not harmful to the human soul and the human condition.
The world is so full of wisdom it escapes us because our quest is for the trivial, the low things of life, not the things in the upper room, but those in the basement, in the gutter of our minds and hearts, that is were we dwell, that is our focus and this is why we suffer. Kobe gives his wife a four million dollar rock, but will it placate her soul, will material things correct a spiritual problem of faith and trust?
The West has a sordid history buying people as Pan Africa can attest, but everyone is not for sale, those of integrity will jump ship, will eat the whip and the gun, for persecution is worse than slaughter, the Qur'an teaches.
No, physical weapons cannot solve the problem. Look at Israel, she has the all the modern weapons but she cannot defeat the spirit of a people determined to be free. So Pan Africa's children can and must be disarmed by a new consciousness. Even Fidel Castro has said the new weapon is consciousness!
Like Johnny Apple Seed, we must go about spreading consciousness, teaching unconditional love and forgiveness, sharing knowledge and wealth with the poor and ignorant, the brokenhearted and oppressed. I am not trying to be sentimental, but we can and must flip the script as they say in the hood.
Again, like Jack, we must jump out the box of mental and physical oppression by taking a new look at reality, by stopping a moment to wonder at the pleasure in the sun, the trees, the sea and mountains, the glory of being alive each moment to share human love, being grateful we have a moment on this earth to whisper truth to children that they may rise and be a pleasure to the ancestors watching from everywhere. Yes, we must transcend block man and block woman, the block within ourselves even, and reach forth into the realm of new possibilities, not allowing evil and her brothers and sisters to control the air and sun that comes each day blessing us with another moment to walk in the light, escaping the darkness of ignorance, greed, lust and violence.
Black men, go into the hood and take the guns from your sons, yes the sons you abandoned, neglected and rejected, the sons who look like you although you deny this, the sons who walk with sad hearts, hardened because they long for you, for your love and guidance, for your wisdom and strength, after all, Mama did all she could to raise her manchild in the promised land.
--Marvin X
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Parable of King Tut
Parable of King Tut
There was a man spoiled rotten by women, wives and lovers. One of his several mother-in-laws said she never saw a man treated so royally as her daughter treated him. He got breakfast in bed, lunch in bed, dinner in bed. Her daughter waited on him as if he were King Tut!
And other women did the same. He wished they would not do this to him, but of course he went along for the ride.
The people, men and women, loved him because he was intelligent and dedicated to the people. His life was a sacrifice to the people and their struggle for freedom.
Actually, he lived a spartan life with nothing of value except his writings. And they would only become valuable on the day he died, according to friends who kept his writings in their archives for that fateful day no man escapes. They made sure he autographed everything he gave or sold them.
The men loved him as much as the women. He couldn't understand why men wanted to kiss him on the cheek. He wondered if they were gay or just sincerely appreciative of the good works he did for the people.
One brother from his childhood in West Oakland told him the people were proud of him and could see he was doing something unique that no one else was doing, making himself accessible to the common people as few intellectuals and artists would dare attempt.
One of the bourgeoisie intellectuals said selling his books to the common people would be like trying to sell stakes to vegetarians. But brotherman either sold or gave away freely his books to the common people. Or he would give them credit and the people would come by weeks later with the money.
His latest book is priced at $100.00 (one hundred dollars), not because he gives a damn about money, but he wants people to appreciate the value of his labor, often writing 24/7 without a break except for a brief nap or two.
He noted the true value of a hamburger is priced at $200.00 when factored in the slave labor of tomato pickers, lettuce and cucumber pickers, also the damage to the health of field workers subjected to dangerous insecticides and pesticides. And the animals do damage to the environment and the health of consumers because the beef producers use growth hormones to expedite meat to the market place. The growth hormones in the meat have a negative effect on the health of consumers, causing a variety of diseases the cost of which is astronomical.
So why should he not charge $100.00 for his book that he labored intensely to produce, doing all the work himself, writing, editing, proofreading, supervising the printing and promotion?
Maybe he deserved having sisters clean his house on their hands and knees. Maybe he deserved his meals in bed, or getting his sexual needs met by prostitutes since he was a single man.
Some say he is the most prolific writer in America, authoring a book a month, according to his comrades in the arts, the Last Poets. He finished his memoir of Eldridge Cleaver in three weeks, in public view online as he published each chapter daily, probably the first book in history written in public view.
Believe it or not, he hated praise and was the frequent victim of theft by friends. But he didn't care, it was flattering and gave him material to write about. As Bob Marley said, with my friends I don't need enemies!
He was a recluse who rarely comes out except to teach at his Academy of Da Corner, downtown Oakland at 14th and Broadway or at the Berkeley Flea market.
Sister Aeshah Kokoman said he was a deep sea diver who rarely comes up for air, and when he does it is only for a moment.
Parable of a Square Bitch by Marvin X
She was a square bitch, sophisticated Spelman bitch, til Dante turned her out, made her a stripper, climbing up and down poles like a monkey.
She stripped til her mama and daddy came and got her and took her home for a rest. But she soon returned to college and Dante turned her out again, this time at the dope house, stripping, sucking and fucking the brothers and sisters in the dope house. Strung out so tough she rented out to the dope man the BMW her daddy bought for her when she first got to college. She waited outside the dope house all weekend til the dope man returned her car. Square bitch. Know everything dumb ass bitch.
Took two courses in Black Studies and claimed she knew all of African history, knew who she was and nobody could tell her shit. She was an educated black woman. But when she got a chance to travel abroad, she went to Europe rather than Africa. Said she wasn't ready for Africa. Nor was she interested in that Black Lives Matter bullshit, all lives mattered to her, specially when she met a hipster named Brando. Brando taught her color doesn't matter, so she believed him, until they got drunk one night and he called her his nigger bitch. The real nigguh came out of her and she slapped him, called him a low life peckerwood white trash bastard. When neighbors heard the noise and called the police, they came and saw Brando had bruises on his face, so they took her black ass to jail. Her mama and daddy sent money to bail her out.
She left Brando and slipped back into the hood looking for Dante. Dante told her, "I don't want yo punk ass, bitch. Go back to that peckerwood motherfucker, you funky ho!" She begged Dante, "Please, please, Dante, I just wanna be black again, please take me back, I'll do anything.""Ok, bitch, get me a choosin fee and hurry up. You know what to do." Miss Square bitch got on the phone to some tricks so she could get Dante's choosin fee. She got it together and presented it to Dante. He said, "Ok, bitch, don't give me no motherfuckin trouble. Don't you ever again tell me about some motherfuckin boundaries. You do whatever the fuck I tell you quick and in a hurry, you hear me, bitch?""Yes, Dante."
She moved in with Dante and his other ho's and they were all happy together for a time.
--Marvin X
7/31/15
