Title: confined: history re-mixed: an uncivil guide
Assemblage: Canvas, acrylic paint, acrylic ink, wood sticks, vintage stamps and postmarks, skeleton keys, locks, galvanized steel hardware cloth, political sticker
H 48" x W 36" x D 3"
(2017)
This work evolved from a gallery viewing of civil rights photography at the High Museum in Atlanta, GA. As I sat and viewed the patrons viewing the work, I wrote this poem on the margins of the exhibition program, reminiscent of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. writing on the margins of newspapers in a Birmingham, AL jail cell.
Assemblage: Canvas, acrylic paint, acrylic ink, wood sticks, vintage stamps and postmarks, skeleton keys, locks, galvanized steel hardware cloth, political sticker
H 48" x W 36" x D 3"
(2017)
This work evolved from a gallery viewing of civil rights photography at the High Museum in Atlanta, GA. As I sat and viewed the patrons viewing the work, I wrote this poem on the margins of the exhibition program, reminiscent of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. writing on the margins of newspapers in a Birmingham, AL jail cell.
history remixed: an uncivil guide
|
I
Writing from my cell I see photographs Documenting an era Hardened by anger Tempered by time Unsettling lives Men, women Framed within Black and white borders Margins on a page America’s fringe II Crossroads, good and evil Paths, separate and unequal Goals, desperate and disparate Black and white White and black Separated by hate Gathered by love Oppressed by ignorance Freed by nobility III From my cell I see kings Bearing non violent swords Severing racist vines in Segregated forests Freeing pine and oak Reaching for stars Against blue black sky On blood spilled flag Dripping stripes of crimson Upon white cotton field IV From my cell I see Dogs trained to kill Dignity and humanity Police beating conscious minds Unconscious I see devilish hoods removed For photo ops While James Meredith lies On a solemn road Blood, red stained white shirt Crying help, not for self For nations sake |
V From my cell I see Children bombed in Sunday school Men shot by snipers From roadside stands Grassy knolls And city streets Freedom riders Buried in dams Hung from trees Thrown in swamps As gator feed VI From my cell I see crowds of people Holding hands Marching, singing Praying, dreaming One day Peace shall prevail Justice will be just Equality, equal And freedom Will actually mean free VII From my cell I see Symbols and signs White Only Colored Only Inconspicuously hidden Among the syntax In coded lines Framing the times Code name “baby’s daddy” African names need not apply Affirmative action Affirmatively denied We accept online applicants only Are you a graduate of an HBCU? ‘We’ll get back with you’ |
VIII
From my cell I see prisons filled With black and brown men No hope of future Resigned to bestial ways Bearing tattoos declaring I AM A MAN Chorusing We don’t give a damn While a black man Runs for president Singing ‘yes we can’ Praising the audacity of hope IX From my cell I see a museum Civilizations storehouse Displaying images Of an un-civil nation I hear cell phones ringing Many have come to hear my story See my pictures, join hands and stare As if at a church funeral Or library of hushed voices Expressing silent thoughts like ‘I don’t know if I could Take that beating’ Under breath, saying ‘I don’t know those people’ or ‘How could they’ or ‘Why’ And ‘I never knew’ X From my cell I see change Black men are not present In equal numbers at this gathering Locked in cages We have found a way To deny them the right to vote Removing them from families, Churches and baby’s lives Doing what mobs, dogs, kkk National guardsmen and Segregationists could not So we print new signs To march ______________________________________ Copyright © 2008 by F. Geoffrey Johnson All rights reserved |
