Reflections on April 4, 1968 Lyrics by Nikki Giovanni
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What can I, a poor Black woman, do to destroy america? This is a question, with appropriate variations, being asked in every Black heart. There is one answer -- I can kill. There is one compromise -- I can protect those who kill. There is one cop- out -- I can encourage others to kill. There are no other ways. The assassination of Martin Luther King is an act of war. President johnson, your friendly uncandidate, has declared war on Black people. He is not making any distinction between us and negroes. The question -- does it have rhythm? The answer -- yes. The response -- kill it. They have been known to shoot at the wind and violate the earth's gravity for these very reasons. Obviously the first step toward peace is the removal of at least two fingers, and most probably three, from both hands of all white people. Fingers that are not controlled must be removed. This is the first step toward a true and lasting peace. We would also suggest blinding or the removal of at least two eyes from one of the heads of all albino freaks. And some honkie asked about the reaction? What do you people want? Isn't it enough that you killed him? You want to tell me how to mourn? You want to determine and qualify how I, a lover, should respond to the death of my beloved? May he rest in peace. May his blood choke the life from ten hundred million whites. May the warriors in the streets go ever forth into the stores for guns and tv's, for whatever makes them happy (for only a happy people make successful Revolution) and this day begin the Black Revolution. How can one hundred and fifty policemen allow a man to be shot? Police were seen coming from the direction of the shots. And there was no conspiracy? Just as there was no violent reaction to his death. And no city official regretted his death but only that it occurred in Memphis. We heard similar statements from Dallas -- this country has too many large Southern cities. Do not be fooled, Black people. Johnson's footprints are the footprints of death. He came in on a death, he is presiding over a death, and his own death should take him out. Let us pray for the whole state of Christ's church. Zeus has wrestled the Black Madonna and he is down for the count. Intonations to nadinolia gods and a slain honkie will not overcome. Let america's baptism be fire this time. Any comic book can tell you if you fill a room with combustible materials then close it up tight it will catch fire. This is a thirsty fire they have created. It will not be squelched until it destroys them. Such is the nature of revolution. America has called itself the promised land -- and themselves God's chosen people. This is where we come in, Black people. God's chosen people have always had to suffer -- to endure -- to overcome. We have suffered and america has been rewarded. This is a foul equation. We must now seek our reward. God will not love us unless we share with others our suffering. Precious Lord -- Take Our Hands -- Lead Us On.
About “Reflections on April 4, 1968” by Nikki Giovanni
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