Thursday, September 10, 2015

Ode to Maury Povitch

Have you read, Psalms, Hymns and Spiritual Songs? 

These poems have been written as I traveled the country sharing my educational programs, Spiritual Songs, The History of the Negro Spiritual and Dancing with the Devil, The African American Holocaust. They are reflections of my encounters at places such as Carnton Plantation, the burial grounds of the largest group of Confederate soldiers on private property. The Freedom Center which sits on the banks of the Ohio River, an educational testament to the past and present history of slavery. They were delivered to me through the news. The modern day terrors which transcended race but exemplified hate and from seeing cotton growing in the field for the first time at the age of forty one. I have chosen to sing the songs of my ancestors so that all may know the truth – the truth of an evil that still rolls like thunder across our nation today. And I like to think of these poems as songs as well, songs bound to the page to carry on long after my voice has been silenced and entered into the ages.

Ode to Maury Povitch

Beautiful baby
Paraded unaware
Before a live television audience
That giggles and hoots
At your mamma’s dilemma
Or they cluck their tongues
And shake their heads
In disapproval

Scripted or not
Foolish choices
Are displayed
As they read the results
And men liberated
From responsibility
Go running from the stage
Calling mamma out of her name
Fist pumping
Arms held aloft
In victory

Beautiful Baby
You continue to smile
Mamma’s baby
Daddy’s maybe
As the woman who
Clutches her hope
Sees it ripped away
With Maury’s famous words
“You Are Not The Father!”

Occasionally your momma
Gets to dance in elation
As the point is proven
Her integrity is restored
When there is a DNA match

Women of every shade
Exploited at the 10AM viewing hour
Why are you even here at all
Questioning the parentage
Of this beautiful blessing from God

Beautiful baby
Someone needs to tell your Mamma
That she is more
Then what’s between her thighs

And the celebrity
Will last for more then
A ten minute segment
In her baby’s eyes
Still the dirty laundry
Is aired for all to see

Soiled and stained
Too many one night stands
Trysts with friends, brothers, cousins,
Sons and fathers
Affairs with men
Who just don’t care
And call your mamma
Outside her God given name

Yet you keep smiling
Clapping your hands
Toward the camera
That covers you
Backstage in a green room
Unaware of the maelstrom
Surrounding the conception
Of your life

Unaware that Mamma
Is asking Maury for help
Cause everyone is unsure
Of who your daddy is…

(C) 2014 Dr. Naima Johnston Bush
From The Book: Psalms, Hymns and Spiritual Songs. Pick up your copy today!

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