It
was within the context of a ghetto life complex, that a new articultation
was needed, to oppose and expose, by poetry & prose, until oppression
was defeated. Born in a perpetual trap, it would come to known as "rap"
which stands for "Revolutionary Arts Proverbalization" and it
politicised and culturalized self determination.
A group of poets were formed, who would take them by storm, and shake
their academic foundations, wordsmiths all, who answered the call, against
centuries of domination. Seven scribes, from different tribes, friends,
enemies & rivals, merged into an alliance of artistic defiance, against
those opposed to their survival.
To document each trap, by the means of rap, with descriptions of the crime,
and out of those seven, five choose prose, and two of them wrote in rhyme.
Combining the African tradition, of oral transmission, with urban cotemporary
slang, reasoning, rhyming, and re-defining the balance of Yin & Yang.
Seizing the low-moral ground, upon which slavery was found, and transforming
it into meaningful methaphors, attacking racism at it's root, and liberating
the truth, from the effects of a losing cause.
These home-grown wits, were called "The Last Poets" a self-styled
adaptation and self cofirmation of a verse taken from out of a poem, written
by a South African poet, the legend according to some of the poets, who
at that time came to know it, that this verse articulated our longing
for home. And although the past couldn't be changed, we had our futures
to re-arrange, for the purpose of salvaging our lives. And as my friend
the soul singer Jerry Butler once said, to the not yet dead, "Only
the strong survive".
Now the road to the truth, is littered with proof, like the nose on the
front of your face, and the path we'd have to follow to survive each tomorrow,
meant staying on the case. And this group of seven, was divided by two,
made up of a first & last poet's who each had a different point of
view, and in the end, the last became first, and then it reversed, until
no one really knew who was who, except a few.
The former became the latter, and the latter became the former, and only
the creator and the old school really knew the truth, in as much as the
album covers were themselves the proof. In those days, many groups had
to replace lost troupe's due to dissolutions, disagreements, and death,
and I the elected leader became the first within the last, out of the
entire cast, of all those who had left.
And within the surreality, of these opposites in polarity, with the beyond
in between the vast, the creator alone, is knowingly unknown, the first
as well as the last.
We had turned on, from off, out of a Harlem loft, that was called the
"East Wind," a black writer's workshop, where one could stop
and find out what was happening. About african culture and the ancient
ways, and how to write poems, essays & plays.
Distributing pamplets, flyers, leaflets and books, and sporting dashiki's
braids, and afro-hairstyle looks. We were all proud to be and african
sage, whether black, brown, red, yellow, or whiter then beige.
Africa was everywhere, and it's culture was stylish, with afro-cubans,
phillipino's, spanish, french, german, dutch & irish. Afro-arabs,
italians, and indians (North American) and other multi-ethnic africans
amongst the world's dominions. And with the african people spread out
throughout the world, african blood could be found in many a boy and girl.
The "East Wind" was a place where one could exchange information,
and compare our situation, and hold discussions about the reality of police
brutality, and it's murderous repercussions, with poetry recitals and
fund raising events, dances, classes and whatever else made sense.
The Last Poets were by the people's poet's and were eventually globally
accepted and acclaimed, but they were destined to be last in notarity
and first in popularity and fame.