MOYERS: We know him as Amiri Baraka. But his name was LeRoi Jones when he burst on the public scene in the 1960s. The Beatniks shaped his poetry and the struggle of American blacks for justice his politics. He earned degrees in philosophy and German literature, immersed himself in jazz and the blues, has been a university professor and a political activist. Today his name is synonymous with the Black Arts Movement that changed American culture. And he's still going strong. I'm Bill Moyers. Join me for the Sounds of Poetry with Amiri Baraka.

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BARAKA: This is by the inventor of break dancing, this poem. You know the inventor of break dancing was Thelonious Monk. Nobody knows that [laughs]. This is a poem to Monk. It's called "Funklore." This is Herbie Morgan playing a tune called "Blue Monk."

We are the blues

ourselves

our favorite

color

Where we been, half here

half gone

We are the blues

our selves

the actual

Guineas

the original

Jews

the 1st

Caucasians

That's why we are the blues.

ourselves.

that's why we

are the

actual song

So dark & tragic

So old &

Magic

That's why we are

the Blues

ourselves

In tribes of 12

bars

like the stripes

of slavery

on

our flag

of skin.

In tribes of 12

bars

like the stripes of slavery

on

our flag

of skin.

We are the blues

the past

the gone

the energy the

cold the saw teeth

hotness

the smell above

draining the wind

through trees

the blue

leaves us

black

the earth

the sun

the slowly disappearing

the fire pushing to become

our hearts

And now black again we are the

whole of night

with sparkling eyes staring

down

like jets

to push

evenings

ascension

that's why we are the blues

the train whistle

the rumble across

the invisible coming

drumming and screaming

that's why we are the

blues

& work & sing & leave

tales & is with spirit

that's why we are

the blues

black and alive

& so we show our motion

our breathing

we moon

reflected soul

that's why our spirit

make us

the blues

we is ourselves

the blues

BARAKA: Words are very powerful, you know, powerful things among human beings. You know, we luxuriate in words. We use words. Words are both a means of production, you know, that mean words create production. They're part of the production process. You know what I mean? "Go to work. Come back home." You know, "Pull that switch, turn it off." You know, "Dig that ditch, throw it over here." You know, I mean, but words are also a part of our education. Two and two are four. Four and four are eight. You know what I mean? And so, language in its specific function as poetry is not only traditionally understandable as say something to be listened to in another way. But, you know, it can be infused with all kinds of elements. And I try to infuse it with a specifically teaching. I mean, I don't want to be a, you know, a pedagogue, you know, but at the same time, I think poetry is most useful when it can educate as well as titillate.

This is a poem about the Civil War. You should read this book Black Reconstruction, by the greatest intellectual this country has ever produced, W.E.B. Du Bois. If you want to argue with me about that, I'll be available to argue after.

"First Fire" This way.

The road is not there except when you move toward where it needs to be.

This way.

The place changes like you do. '

The day changes all the time.

How old are we?

This way.

Watch out for the stump.

To lie there congealing with a man's head.

This way.

The dawn beats toward us.

No, this way.

Look, that shimmering image is not real.

What is it?

Nothing.

A cluttered rest, the absent voting.

The silence dancing.

Dangerous eyes.

This way.

When we get to the bottom of the hill, there will be singing.

When we get to the bottom of the hill, there will be singing behind that gray mass of early trees, the singing black and blue.

They hear you.

Despite the howling laughter they see you.

They heard you for a while.

They want to know what we will do.

They want to know what we will do this way.

Now when we get there, make sure everything is ready, clean, loaded.

That group of dead people sitting at the table making decisions are dizzy with success.

They love being dead and wonder when we will finally dig it, but we ain't.

This way.

Don't stop there.

I know the sun is shaking itself.

The shadows scanning the new light, but don't stop.

Just keep on.

The way is lifting with the newness, the way is clearing with the brightness.

Can you still hear you talking to yourself?

Will you answer questions if you will?

Ask yourself where you are and why.

If you know and it's the truth, that will be the next information you need.

This way. Okay, that's right. Hear them singing, this way.

See the mountain there.

The old king died here with the two modes of hell he wore like a ring of comets.

Not there, watch there. See they coming out the brush.

The blue jackets catching the emerging day.

They with us. We they children. They sons and daughters.

They waving, wave back this way, this way.

The last bit of ground to cover that rumbling from the mountain top is of course Satan.

When we get where he is exposed, kill him immediately.

Empty the weapon into his frightful head and don't be frightened by the storm of rhythm the sky turns into.

Let it tear into you and sing whatever comes into your heart.

Okay, okay now, this way.

The Japanese have a form that's called the haiku, you know, which I studied closely. So I've invented an Afro-American form called the Lowku. Short on form, long on content.

"The Pet's Reward"

The pet's reward. On Miss Daisy's death bed, she told Morgan Freeman he was her best friend. So what about the dog?"

All art is political. The artist is trying to say something and you absorb it one way or another. You know, and it has a political meaning. Politics means people. When you say politics in the specific sense, you mean the gaining and use to maintain the power. You know and even the power of description if it's then ascertained that you have that correct description, then you have the power that that description affords. But all art is political. It's all political. Of the art that is less political is the art that confirms the politics of the people that rule, since that's less of a contrasting opinion. The art that seems most political is the art that has a contrasting opinion to the people who rule, because then it seems out of kilter with the norm.

"X"

X. Duh, do, do, duh, duh, do, do, do. Do, do, do, duh, do, do. Duh do, do. Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do do. X Don, do, do, do, do

Everything we don't understand is explained in Art

The sun beats inside us

The Spirit courses in and out of us

A circling transbluesency pumping Detroit Red inside, deep through us like a sea and who calls us bitter has bitten us and who calls us bitter has bitten us and from that wound pours Malcolm Little by Little

It's Mao that said, you know, all art is propaganda. Not all propaganda is art, you know? So, you know, my art is a conscious attempt to teach and to analyze and to point out. And I think that's what it has to do.

I got this title "Wise- W's- Why's and W-I-s-e and how I got that title was from Jimmy Baldwin. Jimmy Baldwin said, "If you ask 'Why' enough times you might get wise." If you keep asking 'Why', 'Why', 'Why' and I think most of us, you know the stuff that goes down in this country, you need ask at least why. If you don't ask nothing else, at least say, Why? And you might get wise.

So 40 pieces — why 40? Well, you know, 40 days and 40 nights — Moses was 40 when he came to consciousness. The Jews were 40 years in the wilderness. Christ died. Came back, when he came back he walked for 40 days on the planet. Takes 40 days for us to get from Gorey to New Jersey and then they wanted to give us 40 acres and a mule.

Africa! Go back black see yourself, know yourself, touch yourself, be yourself, world, world.

Mighty ancient Africa. Creator of the human being. Of speech. Of music. Of the city. Africa.

Africa! Go back black see yourself, touch yourself, know yourself, mighty ancient beautiful Africa.

But when you put your hand on your sister, made her a slave.

When you put your hand on your brother, made him a slave.

Watch out Africa. Watch out Africa. The ghosts going to get you.

When you put your hand on your sister, made her a slave.

When you put your hand on your brother, made him a slave.

Watch out Africa. The ghosts are going to get you. Watch out for the ghosts. Aaaahhh.

How did I get here? On my back in the dark with the wind and water blowing through my ears. How did I get here?

On my back in the dark with the wind and water blowing through my ears. Shango, Obatala, Eesa, save me. Allah, save me, save me, save me, save me.

How did I get here? On my back in the dark with the wind and water blowing through my ears.

My brother the king. My brother the king. My brother the king sold me to the ghosts. My brother the king sold me to the ghosts.

You know my brother the king? He worked for Budweiser, now my brother the king sold me to the ghost.

At the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean there's a railroad made of human bones.

At the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean there's a railroad made of human bones.

Like ivory.

Shango, Eesa save me.

Allah, save me.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, save me, save me, save me.

Wade in the water.

Wade in the water, children.

Wade in the water. God's gonna trouble the water

If you ever find yourself somewhere lost and surrounded by enemies who won't let you speak in your own language, who destroy your statues and instruments, who ban your oom-boom-bah-boom, you in trouble, deep trouble.

They ban your oom-boom bah-boom, you in deep, deep trouble. [Laughs]

Probably take you several hundred years to get out.

The poets out of the Black Arts movement in the sixties, the — this is where rap comes from. Rap comes from weird omen at a rap age. When we started bringing the music and the poetry and stuff, together, it was considered, wow, we say, we want poetry that you can take out of these classrooms, that you can read in bars and taverns, that you can read in playgrounds, that you can read on the street. That's what we did in the sixties. That's what I used to tell my students."You think your stuff is good? See those guys digging a hole in the street there? When they get a minute off to eat a sandwich, go read them a poem. See if you get hit in the head. If you don't get hit in the head, you've got a future."

Steal away. Steal away….

History-Wise #22. Steal away. Steal away.

The only railroad guaranteed not to break down!"

100 years before The Coltrane. The real subway Ms "Moses'" Streamliner John Parker's Darker Sparker at Night. No light but a far star North

And wayoff. Like a whistle or a bus

The black night fills our ears

We gon' go go on gone

She say got a general named Moses go on, go on. Harriet got a general named Moses. She say go on, go on, go on.

We gon' go has already gone

"Choo Choo" is the translation in somebody else's Station.

Go on get a general named Moses. That beautiful star we can see from afar.

"Choo Choo" is the translation in somebody else's Station.

Whooooooeeee Whooooooeeee Whoooooooooeoooo Whooooooooeeoooo Whooooeeeeoooo

is its real sound

from way up under the ground

Way Down

Whoooooweeeee Whooooeeeooooeeeooo Whooooeeooooeeooo

That's its real sound underground!

and then sometimes if the night is cold & bright

that whistle cries like all through

that night

that whistle cries &it moans

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Whyyyyyy!yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Etc."

I believe that you have to be true to people, you know what I mean? You have to be writing something that people understand, but at the same time, that's profound enough to have some kind of meaning past, say, the six o'clock news, you know? I think that was Williams that said that, you know, that the news ain't in the poems, but there's people dying everyday for lack of what is found in poems. You know, so that's what I think. Poetry is as necessary as breath.

"There was Something I Wanted to Tell You." (# 33)

Why? Revolutionary War game sold out The Tories

still in control of the culture

English Departments still and the money and the "culture" in an "English" accent.

The Green Mtn Boys Tom Paine The Bill of Rights tried to cut it

But then 19th century Explosion, Free the Slaves, Kill feudalism, Give

rights to the Farmer & Worker

the vote to Women

But that got blew Hayes-Tilden, Bloody Democrats

Traitor Republicans

The Ku Klux Klan. A murder Gang!

& that leap, into industrial society, democracy they said got all but killed

or murdered many times!

Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin, Mao, Ho Fidel, Nkrumah Martin, Sandino and Malcom X

Have all been betrayed

All revolutions bear their own betrayal and betrayers. The world is complex

its reality materially simple

It is the dying of the life

the quenching of the spark the graying of the light the cold whiteness of

the recently full of flaming inspired intelligent heart! The dead entrail of our

collective traditional enemy. [...] What betrays revolution is the need for

revolution. It cannot stop in life. Whoever seeks to freeze the moment is

instantly, & for that instant, mad!

We are servants of life in upward progressive motion. Fanners of the flame.

Resistance is electric. Fred said, its measurable on every block.

The would be stoppers of revolution are its fossil fuel

Winter comes and Spring

We can sometimes hear explosions! [audience now applauds]

[Amiri Baraka begins new poem]

[hums] "The ghost. The ghost. Watch out for the ghost. Ghosts get you.

Ghost. Watch out for the ghost.

In bitter darkness, screams, sharpnesses, smells and seas. Black voice

wails in the death filled darkness. Watch out for the ghost. Watch out for

the ghost. Their bodies disease beneath intoxicated floors. A sea,

shudder. Afraid it's turned to blood. Watch out for the ghost. Watch out for the ghost.

The bodies they will in death skull. To Lionel Hampton ghost. Look out for the ghost. Look out for the ghost.

Ghost is — have us chains. As we were dying. It's called Semad. Maniac.

Drunken, killing sea. Ghooooooost!!!!! Ghooooooost!!!!!

The nigger computers are bluely reporting. Ghosts ahead! Ghosts ahead!

The chains and dark, dark, and dark. If there was light it meant ghosts.

Rotting family we. Ghosts ate three of people flattened and chained and bathed and degraded in their own hysterical waste below. Beneath.

Underneath. Deep down. Up under. Watch out for the ghost. Watch out for the ghost.

Grave. Cave. Pit. Lower and deeper. Watchout for the ghost. Weeping.

Miles below sky scraper gutters. Watch out for the ghost. Blue blood hole into its blueness is the terror. Massacre. Torture.

And original western holocaust. Blue blood hole into which blueness is the terror. Massacre. Torture. An original western holocaust. Slavery. We were slaves.

Slaves! We were slaves! Slave. We were slaves. Slave. We were s — we were slaves. We were slaves. Sl — we were slaves! We were slaves. We were slaves. We were slaves. We were slaves. We were slave. Slaving. Slaving. Slaving they threw our lives away.

Beneath the violent philosophy of primitive canticles. Primitive. Violent.

Steam driven. Canticles. It's my brother. My sister.

At the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. There's a railroad of human bones.

Black ivory Black ivory.

Didi Didi di di…

[hums] Think of slavery as educational."