Hello. Come on in. The daddy writes about current events, literature, music and, once in a while, drops something on you from back in the day to make you pause and ponder, stop and stare, and begin to wonder. Who knows? You may start to pace the floor, shake your head from side to side, then fall down on bended knees in a praying position and cry, "Lawd, have mercy! What is this world coming to?" Check yourself! But this blog is NOT about the daddy. It's about you: your boos, your fam, your hood, your country...our hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow. So let's make a pact: the daddy will put it on the track if you'll chase it down and hit him back. Together, we can definitely take it to another level. Shall we?"

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

The Mad Dog Black Lady Gives the Daddy Fever

“Desiring to “rehumanize the dehumanized,” Coleman focuses upon the lives of the “down and out”; thus she populates her texts with working-class individuals struggling against daily indignities and social outcasts struggling simply to survive. The primary voice represented in her poems is that of the African American woman whose head is bloodied but unbowed, who is just as tough as the harsh city in which she lives.”


He wants it hot, rough and funky
He wants it deep, dark, and dirty
He’s got the hots for the tough-talking diva, got the
Little Willie John for the crazed truthseeker.
The daddy's burning for some Mad Dog Black Lady like

Talking bout Wanda Coleman, the poet out L. A. way, the Sistah whose
books you generally don’t find at a Barnes & Nobles because her books, like her
life, ain't so metered, ain't so refined, ain't so academically wordsmithed to the point where real life, real truth, real soul, is sucked out of it like marrow out of a bone.

Talking about the Wanda Coleman whose more than 2,000 poems, 100 short stories, and books spit fire and cut deep like an AK 47 on a dark night on Martin Luther King Drive on south side Chicago.

And she gives the daddy fever when she talks about the position of poor black women in patriarchal, white America, when she compares black women's lives to prostitutes peddling their wares on mean city streets, forever treated like dirt, forever demeaned, forever put down, forever going down, wondering if they’ll ever see the sun.

She gives him fever when she talks about the way some police officers in inner-cities treat brothas and Sistahs like animals: acting as gatekeepers for U.S. corporate world runners who live on water on big boats and yachts or homes near rivers and lakes as black folks brave the streets, the cold concrete, struggling to keep a crib in projects or apartment complexes with bad plumbing and without air conditioning--the way they lurk like wolves near their door, poised to take down black prey.

She give the daddy fever when she talks about the state of much of black male/ black female relations, about the heartache and loneliness of black women sitting alone behind closed doors long after midnight, about Lady Days singing the blues yesterday and today.

Lady knew about the jive-asses brothers together
with their “philosophy” the big-mouthed the big word
the big-wow talking the cause sweet-tongued, zip-witted
zipzag b-brothers all play all theater all curtain call & no cast party

Lady knew about the hours between gigs
when hunger is blues, the hours between lovings
when hunger is blues, the hours between laughs
trying to kick the ain’t shit blues,
going home to greet the dust and the echo of a life

i’m on my knees rocking
on the floor on my knees groaning on the floor
into the scratchy hi-fidelity
on my knees as i sing along
twenty-three years forever bluesing out my brown eyes

and i wonder as i romance the night
will i be unlucky and live tomorrow?

And the daddy's still craving the tough-talking diva, still
shaking with the lil' Willie John, still digging the crazy truth seeker; and
wants him some Mad Dog Black Lady like yesterday.

Sistah, where you at?

Note: Wanda Coleman, a native of Los Angeles, won the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize in 1999. She has authored the following books: Mercurochrome (2001); Love-ins with Nietzsche: A Memoir; Mambo Hips & Make Believe: A Novel (1999); Bathwater Wine (1998); African Sleeping Sickness (1990); A War of Eyes and Other Stories (1988); Heavy Daughter Blues (Poems and Stories 1966-1986); Imagoes (1983), and Mad Dog Black Lady (1979).


New Black Woman said...

I would love to buy her books at a local Barnes & Noble store, but I've never come across them.

Guess I need to venture into

Kit (Keep It Trill) said...

Hot damn, Daddy, that was friggin' AWESOME...

poetic flowing moving pleasurable sex-to-my ears

...while coincidently listening to Lil Wayne's Shoot Me Down as I read your praise of why I should read and praise Wanda Coleman.

Gonna go check her out right now.

MacDaddy said...

newblackwoman: Ordering books is what I'm doing. I just tried to order Mad Dog Black Lady, which is think is great, but was told its out of print. But her other books are very good too.
kit: I try to write--and try to get people discussing-- people and issues that are important, especially to Africans in America. Drop in from time to time and let me know how I'm doing. And I know you're going to love Wanda Coleman.

sdg1844 said...

Good Stuff! So much to read, so little time. My booklist is getting longer & longer and I love it. said...

Ooooooh Daddy...say that!!

Los Angelista said...

Simply stunning. Such a flow -- 90% of these "rappers" out here couldn't hang!

Anonymous said...

daddy: Sometimes you talk nasty. I bet that's why you like this Wanda gal.

Anonymous said...

This gives me the fever to just read it. Great pieces by you and Tami.
Thanks, Evelina

SagaciousHillbilly said...

Daaaaaamn daddy!

Anonymous said...

Daddy, thanks for the inspiring post and intro to Wanda Coleman. You've turned me on to read more. By the way, Peggy Lee is a great jazz singer and did a great cover of Little Willie John's hit "Fever" but for pure feeling, I'm with you and will always prefer LWJ.