The Day Marvin Gaye Died
(I wrote this poem a couple of years agi, and it appears in my chapbook, "Brown unLike Me: Poems From the Second Layer of Our Skin" (Calaca Press/Red Salmon Press, 2009) but I thought I would throw it out there for the world today, the 27th anniversary of Marvin Gaye's death. Enjoy. -E.O.
The Day Marvin Gaye Died
Every generation has its historical moments
Of collective grief and disbelief
Moments we forever remember
Exactly where we were when…
The deaths of Kennedy, King, Clemente, Cobain
The space shuttle Challenger explosion
When the plans hit the towers on 9/11
Some of these things I was around for
Some I was not.
But I remember the day Marvin Gaye died
It was the day I saw my father cry.
In 1984
I was halfway to manhood,
Living halfway between Motown
And Michael Jackson's hometown,
I knew nothing of Orwell's Big Brother,
Reaganomics,
Beirut, or the Contras.
My world consisted of playing guns with my brothers
A meager allowance
And the Dallas Cowboys.
I was nine years old – almost 10 -
That April Fool's Day.
My father and I seated side by side
On the burgundy brick-patterned couch,
Living room awash
In the electric blue-gray glow of the television
Father and son
Sharing a can of Pepsi
As fathers and sons are wont to do
In the last remnants of a spring Sunday evening
Before it slips away into work and school.
The talking head announces
The shooting of a soul
Singer
By his father in a furious fit
On the day before his forty-fifth birthday.
My own father,
Barely thirty,
Slumps back
As if a bullet has struck him in the chest
Puts his working man's hands
To his music lover's ears
As if by blocking out the messenger's voice
He can make the message come undone.
I watch my father
Watch the newscaster,
Waiting for the whole thing to be called a ruse,
An April fool's day prank,
So we can laugh and say
"That was a good one,
They really had us fooled!"
But the punch line never comes
There is no rebuttal.
The newscaster is onto the next story,
And my father's face
Is a Pamplona of tears.
In 1984
Marvin's 'Sexual Healing'
May have been my father's soundtrack,
But Michael Jackson's "Thriller' was mine.
More than a decade would pass
Before I'd come to fully understand and appreciate
Marvin's gift for music,
His turbulent life,
Or my father's sense of loss that day
Weeping for a man he never knew
But a soul whose troubles mirrored his own.
So what's a boy to do
When his father cries like a baby
For the crimes of another son's father?
He reaches out his nine-year old arms
Brushes away the saltwater bulls
Running down his father's face,
Wraps his small arms around his neck
And hugs him until…
Should I someday be blessed
With sons of my own
May they never be afraid
To sing like Marvin
Cry like their grandfather
And love as if eternally nine.
-Emmanuel Ortiz
2008
(I wrote this poem a couple of years agi, and it appears in my chapbook, "Brown unLike Me: Poems From the Second Layer of Our Skin" (Calaca Press/Red Salmon Press, 2009) but I thought I would throw it out there for the world today, the 27th anniversary of Marvin Gaye's death. Enjoy. -E.O.
The Day Marvin Gaye Died
Every generation has its historical moments
Of collective grief and disbelief
Moments we forever remember
Exactly where we were when…
The deaths of Kennedy, King, Clemente, Cobain
The space shuttle Challenger explosion
When the plans hit the towers on 9/11
Some of these things I was around for
Some I was not.
But I remember the day Marvin Gaye died
It was the day I saw my father cry.
In 1984
I was halfway to manhood,
Living halfway between Motown
And Michael Jackson's hometown,
I knew nothing of Orwell's Big Brother,
Reaganomics,
Beirut, or the Contras.
My world consisted of playing guns with my brothers
A meager allowance
And the Dallas Cowboys.
I was nine years old – almost 10 -
That April Fool's Day.
My father and I seated side by side
On the burgundy brick-patterned couch,
Living room awash
In the electric blue-gray glow of the television
Father and son
Sharing a can of Pepsi
As fathers and sons are wont to do
In the last remnants of a spring Sunday evening
Before it slips away into work and school.
The talking head announces
The shooting of a soul
Singer
By his father in a furious fit
On the day before his forty-fifth birthday.
My own father,
Barely thirty,
Slumps back
As if a bullet has struck him in the chest
Puts his working man's hands
To his music lover's ears
As if by blocking out the messenger's voice
He can make the message come undone.
I watch my father
Watch the newscaster,
Waiting for the whole thing to be called a ruse,
An April fool's day prank,
So we can laugh and say
"That was a good one,
They really had us fooled!"
But the punch line never comes
There is no rebuttal.
The newscaster is onto the next story,
And my father's face
Is a Pamplona of tears.
In 1984
Marvin's 'Sexual Healing'
May have been my father's soundtrack,
But Michael Jackson's "Thriller' was mine.
More than a decade would pass
Before I'd come to fully understand and appreciate
Marvin's gift for music,
His turbulent life,
Or my father's sense of loss that day
Weeping for a man he never knew
But a soul whose troubles mirrored his own.
So what's a boy to do
When his father cries like a baby
For the crimes of another son's father?
He reaches out his nine-year old arms
Brushes away the saltwater bulls
Running down his father's face,
Wraps his small arms around his neck
And hugs him until…
Should I someday be blessed
With sons of my own
May they never be afraid
To sing like Marvin
Cry like their grandfather
And love as if eternally nine.
-Emmanuel Ortiz
2008
I just bought tickets to see Mexico v Costa Rica and Cuba v El Salvador in the Gold Cup at Soldier Field in Chicago June 12! woo hoo!
Anyone else going?
http://www.concacaf.com/page/GoldCup/NewsDetail/0,,12813~2310439,00.html
Anyone else going?
http://www.concacaf.com/page/GoldCup/NewsDetail/0,,12813~2310439,00.html
Ft Wayne Police get away with cold-blooded murder
http://www.journalgazette.net/article/20110218/LOCAL03/302189989
The Boys in Blue have done it again. This time, right here in Ft Wayne, Indiana. Back in 2005, they murdered a young Latino who had called 911 for HELP. Instead of ensuring they did all they could to get him help (they denied him the opportunity to speak with his psychiatrist, despite numerous pleas), they stormed his apartment, launched tear gas and flash grenades, and when they found him hiding in his closet, shot him in cold blood.
And yesterday, in court, an all-white jury of 8 men and 3 women exonerated the police department, the officers in charge, the police chief, deputy chief, and the SWAT team officers that stormed Rudy's apt and shot him. The message sent is that the police can ignore calls for help, ignore offers from trained psychologists to help, make brash and lethal decisions to send in SWAT teams to respond to cases of mental illness, use unwarranted lethal force, cover it up, and get away with it.
Bullshit.
Fuck the system.
Fuck the police!
http://www.journalgazette.net/article/20110218/LOCAL03/302189989
The Boys in Blue have done it again. This time, right here in Ft Wayne, Indiana. Back in 2005, they murdered a young Latino who had called 911 for HELP. Instead of ensuring they did all they could to get him help (they denied him the opportunity to speak with his psychiatrist, despite numerous pleas), they stormed his apartment, launched tear gas and flash grenades, and when they found him hiding in his closet, shot him in cold blood.
And yesterday, in court, an all-white jury of 8 men and 3 women exonerated the police department, the officers in charge, the police chief, deputy chief, and the SWAT team officers that stormed Rudy's apt and shot him. The message sent is that the police can ignore calls for help, ignore offers from trained psychologists to help, make brash and lethal decisions to send in SWAT teams to respond to cases of mental illness, use unwarranted lethal force, cover it up, and get away with it.
Bullshit.
Fuck the system.
Fuck the police!
I had to take some publicity shots for a poetry event I'm doing, so I figured I'd post them here on SG
I'm sure you are thrilled, stoked and elated.
Hope everyone is surviving the snowstorms.
-E
I'm sure you are thrilled, stoked and elated.
Hope everyone is surviving the snowstorms.
-E
ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I just added an Amazon.com wishlist! Been a long time coming. I know some of you have been asking how you can ever repay me for my friendship, my affection, my attention, well, this is how. Shop from my wishlist, buy me goodies that I have hand-selected. In return, I will love you forever, sing your praises, till the end of my days.
Thank you.
-E
Thank you.
-E
I'm totally excited about the new Machete action figure! I loved the movie. Danny Trejo has long been a favorite of mine. Good to see him have a breakout film. If you haven't yet, check out the documentary on his life, called Champion: The Story of Danny Trejo.
Here is the action figure. Maybe I need to add a wishlist so someone will buy it for me...
Here is the action figure. Maybe I need to add a wishlist so someone will buy it for me...
On Saturday night, I emcee'd the Scarlet Spooktacular Burlesque Show put on by Scarlet Fever, Ft Wayne Burlesque. It was a Halloween/horror-themed burlesque show, complete with stripping mummies, witches, zombies. Everyone was in costume. Not to be outdone by the scantily-clad sirens on stage, I reached deep for a costume, a character, an alter ego. I came up with Alberto L Muerto.
Check him out:
Check him out:
I saw Cheecjh and Chong with my father last night. It was hilarious.
That is all for now.
That is all for now.
I just got back from a trip to Minneapolis, where I had a job interview. Then a secnd interview. for Chicano Studies/American Indian Studies at the U of Minnesota. I was one of two final candidates. And I was the one that did NOT get the job. Super bummed about that. I was really hoping I could get up there, work, finish school...
Oh well. pa'lante, siempre pa'lante, as the Young Lords say.
I did get to hang out with Otoki Suicide, tho. Went to the global market. Had a good time. Saw her new tatoo. Fresh! Thanks for hanging out, Otoki!
Other than that, it's back to the grind.
Also, my friend and fellow Minnesota-Indiana connection Camara has a set in member review. Please show some love!
thats about it. Be well, each of you.
Oh well. pa'lante, siempre pa'lante, as the Young Lords say.
I did get to hang out with Otoki Suicide, tho. Went to the global market. Had a good time. Saw her new tatoo. Fresh! Thanks for hanging out, Otoki!
Other than that, it's back to the grind.
Also, my friend and fellow Minnesota-Indiana connection Camara has a set in member review. Please show some love!
thats about it. Be well, each of you.
