Best Malcolm Poems
It is not as simple as merely changing one's name
You must understand the cauldron before that came
And the hustler's hair caught fire burning into red anguish
And the water is disconnected to out the wish
Something about a mother's prayer and father's faith
Like all the islands were one Caribbean state
Jamaica and St Kitts came together beautifully in his fate
I mean the old Garveyite dead upon the track's wrong side
And from his Nebraska to Michigan the fire follows and chide
Those admitting schools where a child's vision died. Wait
Till the latch is pulled on the city's yawning gate. Here
Behold the child crushed into streets by livid fear
ii
So Malcolm by way of Michigan from Nebreaska came
Flesh "red" with fire, eyes knotted with black desire
I mean nothing to aspire to better than a street name
A pimp, a runner, a hustler and only addresses retire
From New York to Boston the criminal element slithers.
Through windows widowed of locks, and doors deprived
The white margin keeps the black space in small fetters
The heist hoist him over the humped wall showing real
Chain this time and literal boundary for a black dream
Religion is borm always in our stillness, bringing zeal
To transform our weakness, and in his a eyes a gleam
Making name and nature one in Islam's deep embrace.
Prison begins for Malcolm the new prosedy of the race.
This gentleman and a scholar, this soldier strongly suited
O glorious comes morning after pilgrimage of night
And through its light this self-made man of sin uprooted
Was Africa's apostle articulating her children's plight.
So brother Malcolm, like a native prince valiant and bright
Took on the citadel's of false history, and with all still
Stoop and lifted sultry minds of sable children with might
And with his balm of words O mended their broken will
Could you have seen him compared with himself in the fifties
Could have sat and listened to the legal logic of his mind
Humbler and humbler he became, a pilgrim in the sixties
But after the firebombing you know death is near behind
He then like his father forewarned came to their end
By tragedy, and for such only the great ones God will send.
Bullets pierced the night.
A Mother's Cry pierced the calm.
His life stained the streets.
a. Perspective of Malcolm X
in the ghettos
like the reservations
white man builds
a separation of skins
hearts and minds
b. My Perspective
Malcolm Little born
to roll uphill
against all odds
a boy transmogrifies
into variable X
Come and listen awhile I pray
To hear a sad love story,
I have only a minute to stay
To tell the tale of Malcolm McCorey.
I'm Malcolm, Sally was my bride
I've loved her since grade school,
She was my life and my pride
And, I was her ever loving fool.
Work let off early that night
And it was pouring down in sheets,
When my eyes beheld the sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
My Sally was not forthcoming
And, I was blind by love's adoring,
I swear I never saw it coming
The day my Sally went a whoring.
This wasn't some casual adoring
That I might could understand,
This was at our home a whoring
In our bed with another man.
It was a cold and rainy night
And it was pouring down in sheets,
I wasn't prepared for the sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
The truth came like a blinding light
She couldn't wait to shut the door,
When I came home early that night
While she gaily played the whore!
She glared up at me in surprise
At seeing me suddenly arrive,
I stared back into her lying eyes
Down the barrel of my forty five!
It was a stormy and dismal night
And it kept pouring down in sheets,
I'll never forget the awful sight
Of Sally whoring 'tween the sheets.
The Padre' comes to comfort me
My life's now run it's course,
Today my pain will cease to be
Soon, I'll feel no more remorse.
I forgive myself of all at last
My soul will soon go soaring,
Today will soon be o'er and past
The pain, of Sally gone a whoring.
* Malcolm was executed in may of 1969. May God have mercy on his soul.
Timothy I. Brumley
Born Malcolm Little, Malcolm X,
Formerly known as "Detroit Red," was fiery and complex.
An American Muslim Minister and Human Rights Activist
He became disillusioned as Elijah Muhammad's loyalist
Date written: 08/22/2019
Malcolm
Father ,son ,husband ,poet
Son of Anthony Johnson and Debra Dyer
Loves of poetry ,gardening, bowling, and gothic music
Who feels anxious, excited, and sometimes extremely joyous
Who fears death ,life and solitude
Who like to see all of Europe and Africa
Who resides in Orlando Fl
Dyer
A Little Phone Call Malcolm and Donald
by Bob Moore
Hello Donald
That Afro-American President, lived there just before you
agreed to take these Middle Eastern fellers from Naru
they are a bloody handful, getting worser every day
when you gonna send a boat, and take them all away
A deals a deal out here in Oz, even if its dumb
hope you will not renege, we’re still your bestest chum
here in the Southern Hemisphere, and maybe in the world
we help to fight in all your wars, so don’t act like a girl
--
Hello Malcom
I heard about that stupid deal, you did before he left
a swap for some Columbians, you both must be bereft
not sure which of them is worse, but one thing that I know
there’ll be some heavy vetting, before you let them go
Out here we have our own problems, don’t know if you’ve heard
eight years of Pres, Obama, but now the people stirred
they want to make America, the way it used to be
no matter where you come from, settle in, and you’ll be free
So nobody can tell me, what is best for me to do
friendship, begging, threatening, its not all about you
I have a land of willing soles, and if they work with me
we will make America, great again, you’ll see.
Goodbye
A NOTE FROM MALCOLM
My advice is free, and time’s not billable
Try speaking French and I will soon know
Don’t claim a local or a provincial accent
It really does not sound as if heaven-sent
Nor a comment heard such as il fait beau
As the accent is always on the last syllable
As a teacher, these things do really matter
One must develop that Gallic look as well
Sometimes that simple shrug just says it all
From Southern Pyrenees up North to Gaul
Whether from Paris or le Midi, one can tell
In some regions, the vowels do sound fatter
So, let us practice the deep grunting sounds
And don’t forget all those hand gestures too
But accents can apply to letters when written
Cedillas, acute or grave never seen in Britain
Where just the plain and simple words will do
Whilst pretty perfume accents do the rounds
One of the greatest scholars and speak so clear for a messaging so rugged but his future so clear
Day is his night and sunset be his fright
As human as could be ,it only is right
Marching as a man is all we could see
One turn of his cheek was the ending of me
Untold story we would never could see
The truth about America is Malcom and me.
Raising the slogans won't make it any better.
Dare to accept the truth,
All lives matter.
Does that sound better,
Islam is the way out,
Quran is the light out.
Read it I promise you will later have no doubt,
As from it I have learned
All lives matter.
(Based on the TV show.)
This was a show about Malcolm who's a genius teen.
He had four brothers, a dad and a mom who's mean.
The parents were constantly angry at Reese.
He was a thug who didn't give them a minutes peace.
Francis was sent to military school just because he pierced his nose.
A lot of people laugh when they watch those shows.
Dewey and Jamie were the two youngest boys.
Watching this disfunctional family brings people lots of joy.
Malcolm worked at a grocery store and his mom did too.
He got his ___ kicked by a man on stilts, that was humiliating to go through.
I've spent many hours laughing at these people who are funny.
They had to star as messed up kids but at least they have money.
Due to his parents’ deaths Malcom mobilizes a new truth
Laughing and cavorting, moving in a frenzy
He is covering up his sadness with faux mirth
His essence cloaking abject melancholy
Laughing and cavorting, moving in a frenzy
Creating an illusion of complacency and acceptance
He is covering up his sadness with faux mirth
The ones closest to him pretend to believe his masquerade
Creating an illusion of complacency and acceptance
He is covering up his sadness with faux mirth
The ones closest to him pretend to believe his masquerade
Due to his parents’ deaths Malcolm mobilizes a new truth
I’m pulling this Earth towards me,
as I’m as heavy as the stars,
I feel so out of place,
home only in my scars.
It is a wish, that someday I’d belong,
until then, smile wide and hope I’d be strong.
If only anyone knew, how all of it felt long,
I’ve lived too many lifetimes to die young.
I feel as if I’m never wrong,
as I’m also right about my ego keeping me afloat.
There are some lies that have to be told,
so we could maybe someday grow old.
In this game of chance, I’ve tried to fold,
more hands than I cared to hold,
I am one so fragile and flawed,
in a body that the Gods above have mould.
I am sinner, trapped inside this head,
shun to a place where there’s no rest.
Some think they’re wise to state,
this life is a test.
I’ve failed it once before,
I’m here with this heart beating in my chest.
I am in debt, to every sun that sets,
that lays my head down and pulls the starry blanket over my breast.
I don’t know, no more, if these nights are a blessing,
for as my soul is undressing, I am terrified of who I’ll be facing.
These words are to the wanderers locked within.
To those of us who don’t know of sin.
Every tortured, forged in ether grin,
there is peace, a few more steps in.
So keep walking, though these roads are so thin,
we belong somewhere, someday we’ll begin.
Each moment passed, is a glorious win.
The battle’s not over, though the war too will sink.
Keep swimming, we’ll stay afloat.
Do you still breathe me in?
Do you still worship me?
You are my air
I worship you
Like in the old days when I ran to you
I followed you
From here to the end of time
Remember us lying on the bed
Listening to Waterfall and making love
Drinking our mudslides
Frozen drinks
Chillers was our thing
Smoking our cigarettes
Acting wild
Being free
Being young
Nothing could stop us
We could conquer the world
Just you and me
Us, we, together
Soul mates forever
Free as birds
On top of the world
We could read each other's thoughts
Like in the Shining
Ironic since you are such a big fan of Jack
You were my Romeo
I your Juliet
But, you know how that ended
A fairytale that lost it's innocence
Waiting in the castle for you
Cannot wake
Need your touch
A couplet like no other
A bond that is cemented
Despite the odds
The Tragedy
We have remained unified
Together, One
Soul Mates Forever
Young Malcolm was meek, rarely riled,
asking for korma, quite mild,
they all thought him nice,
until ordering rice,
that was where Malcolm went wild.