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Date: Thu, 09 Dec 1999 14:17:14 -0500
From: "Rodney D. Coates" <[log in to unmask]>
Subject: Millennial treks of the Madman - a preview of things to come
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Millennial treks of the Madman – a preview of things to come
Rodneyc//99


Often a friend that goes simply by the name of “The Madman” visits me.  Much
like my private muse, he never ceases to impart to me wisdom, knowledge and
insight.  As I sit here in my four-cornered room waiting for the millennium
to begin to end, listening to the darkness, I find that I am in need of his
sage advice.  The panorama of a life, now a half-century-old, has left me
confused and exhilarated, humbled and exalted, numb and ecstatic, tired but
nevertheless expectant.  I have seen the hopes that dawned with the Age of
Aquarius turn into the fickleness in what may be called the dusk of Gemini.
This dusk, marked by a nervous tension filled with superficiality and
inconsistencies, of that dawn now unfolds.  As I sit, contemplating paranoia
and insanity, a still voice in the corner of darkness begins this strange
chant:

“Laying in a pool of obfuscation,
Surrounded by fools of justification,
wearing the height of today's fashion,
the king of Cool was dead.

The call, answered by the rapid
consolidators, went out in mid-December
to the entire hood, but no one came that day.
The sisters of perpetual chatter,
 the brothers of continual flatter
responded in late May.

Obituaries written just the other day,
remarked,
"The deceased, clad in a Grey flannel
suit by Hilfinger.  His hair, coifed, fried
and purple died, with extensions that stood
at least 3 feet deep continued to float gently
in the breeze.  His neck, covered with chains
by Gucci. Pinky rings, on either hand, with diamonds
all cut to perfection.  A platinum coded
credit card, strapped to his waist
along side his ruby studded pager and
phone- going off incessantly. Always ahead of his times,
his nails affectionately done in matching gray and red.
 On his feet, half-laced - gold air Jordan's
but of course!

He will be missed by all the merchants and
pimps, half slick wimps and whacked-out wannabe's.
His family, consisting of yesterday’s no-bodies,
signifying monkeys, jack legged donkeys,
and tomorrow's any-bodies,
will host the party on the corner of 6th and never. Please be punctual,
only the fashionably snobbish need come."

It was the third of December,
I remember it well.
The sun was in mid-sky
and the clouds in the air
spoke of snow later on that day.
The strange thing, no one cared,
but the death of Cool
was everywhere.”

As the chant ended, light from my night stand slowly invaded the darkness,
and there leaning against the wall, draped in kente...was The Madman.  Shock
and surprise now turning to expectancy and relief capture the moment as I
try to vocalize the questions that eluded me now, but all to no avail.
Dumbfounded, I starred at my friend.  Again, now more melancholy his chant
began anew:

The future belongs to those who chose to grasp it, embrace it, and become
one with change.  Excellence born of necessity dictates that our quests must
be both moral and righteous.  All Covetousness, excessiveness, pettiness and
obsessions must now be set aside else, we be broken by the quakes and
consumed by the thunder that is to come.
        Dreams, newly formed cresting on the horizon, must now transcend the
despair that all too many contemplate.
        Power, found in love, must now fill the void that 4 centuries of denial,
isolation, and ignorance has created.
        Wonder, rising up from the souls of a millions of  martyrs who gave their
lives in the middle passage, in the great passage, in the final struggle to
end all struggles – must now replace the listlessness that our children and
their siblings angrily contain in worlds filled with angst.
        The future belongs to those who demand life over death, love over hate, and
hope over angst.  Moreover, my children, keep your sights on the stars of
your tomorrows, but continue to walk the path with your ancestors.  Lean on
their wisdom and insights, but be not afraid of your passions and visions.
The past is but a guide let it not be your trap, the future is but a promise
but let it not be determined.  Let it unfold, both good and bad, with its
own rhythm and reason.

        We, who are your elders, can only suggest your course, you must determine
the path.  We the elders, can only warn you of our failures, and show our
successes as solitary stars for you to cling to.  We, who are of the past,
can only pray that you will choose life over death, wisdom over folly, and
knowledge over ignorance.  For, you are our last and best hope, you are the
point of all our strivings, and you are our brighter tomorrow.”

        In addition, with that, darkness again filled the corner, the Madman had
gone.  I was left starring into the light that now consumed my soul.




 -----------
umoja:

rodney c..
for more of my poetry please check out:

http://www.ulbobo.com/umoja/index.html