Red Salute to Cousin, Comrade Wayne Pharr
by BAR poet-in-residence Raymond Nat Turner
Lilā L.A. cats playing army,
Make believe battlefields,
Backyard theaters of war
Rough and tumble, mannered
Boys, 3 meals a day, 0 body fat,
No phone bill, fun and innocent daysā
Cousins āBilly,ā āStevie,ā āMikey,ā and
Ronaldāsons of steel workers, school
Cafeteria workers, carpenters, mariners,
Maids, teachers and real community
Organizers we could look up to and believe in
āBillyā/ Wayne had army men, and
Played imaginatively, played intenselyā
Ron loved coffee cans he played before
Bongos entered his life, before heād circle the globe
Slapping Gon-Bop & LP drums; I loved to rhyme at the
Time; and Steve, Steve loved baseballs, gloves
Bats, leading to his contract with the Yankeesā¦
Living on 81st and 83rd Streets between Avalon and
Central we learned the Devil wore dark blue, not red,
Delivered hell up South, out South in black and white
Cars, and dying wasnāt necessary for seeing his pale,
Hate-deformed faceāthree or even four times a dayā¦
Slauson Village āThe Vee-LAā was like
Fanny Lou Hamerās sick and tired of being tired!
Tired of the LAPD occupation army tasked to
āProtect and serveā apartheid: Beat-downs, frame-ups
Keeping Black men and women without work, bellies growling,
Tired of ātesti-lying,ā the smog curtain concealing crimes
Like police murders of Ronald Stokes, Leonard Deadwyler,
Gregory Clark, and others, tired of Hollywood sci-fi
Lies that made Octavia Butler blushācars lurching forward
Causing āserviceā revolvers to āā¦accidentally discharge,ā āā¦furtive movement,ā
āā¦reaching in his waistband,ā āā¦brandishing a knife,ā āā¦becoming combativeā lies
Even as a lilā boy, Wayne had a Jones for justice and
Fairness and was never cool with bullies, itās no mystery
He too grew tired, grew into a soldier, warrior
Not an olive green, G.I. Joe, plastic plaything
We ambushed, blew up, in the backyard, not a Karangatang
Robot, pork chop nationalist provocateur, punching, kicking,
Shooting servants of the people; Wayne became a soldier
Organizer of BSUs, free breakfast programs, clinics, a speaker,
Debater, agitator for self-defense, Revolution, Power to the People,
Soldier in black beret and leather jacket, who grew like a
Bunch of greens, the Tommy Lewis, Masai Hewitt* crew,
Bunchy Carter core coming from Wayneās Auntie Caffie Greeneās
Teen Post, 79th and Central Avenueā Bunchy called it āThe Stemā
December 8, 1969 41st & Centralāwild boars, SWAT,
Didnāt batter down doors to bring beer to the party and
Discuss perils of policing, as Rose Garden Negroz do; terrorist
Murderers came to kill Wayne, Peaches, Cotton, Roland, Tommye,
Redd and the others in their sleep, like theyād murdered
Mark Clark and Fred Hampton in Chicago, days before; the
Pigs didnāt come by 1s, didnāt come by 2s, didnāt come by
10sāthey came 300ā thousands of rounds and reinforcements
Wayne couldnāt get out, but then again, they couldnāt get inā¦
He was āFree at last,ā like Frederick Douglass on the road
Escaping the plantation, free like General Tubman leading her
Charges to Canada, taking marching orders from the North Star
5 hours freedom in his 64 years on the planetā¦5 hours,
5 hours and heād savor every second, relish for a lifetime
Peoplesā Servant of Steel,
Truth-teller, author, historian, father, esteemed elderā
Not bad for a lilā L.A. cat who played army with his cousins
In his backyard; Not bad for a lilā L.A. cat with 9 livesā¦
He needed a heart, but we couldnāt just rip open, unzip,
Un-bolt hollow chests of his torturers, his captorsā
Thugs who choked him under color of law, fired thousands of rounds,
Through cover of darkness, fog of surprise, to halt his workā
We couldnāt just pull their puny, mustard seed heartsā¦their
Miniature tickers, they are far too tiny to fill the crater of
His big black bayou heartāreally, we believed if anything
In this world was, āToo big to failāāit would be Wayneās heartā¦
Raymond Nat Turner can be contacted at Raymond (at) upsurgejazz.com
Raymond Nat Turner Ā© 2014 All Rights Reserved