Free The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni by Nikki Giovanni

columbia
    yours is the college you teach at
    or the people who sent you there
    i want a poem telling how tired you are
    of fucking women
    and relating to your hospital
    experiences
    or maybe a poem about who you’d like
    to lay beside and dream with
    and a real long poem on what you dream about
    i really need a rare book poem
    and what they mean to you
    and a new book poem about what you read
    and a joe goncalves poem about a hardworking brother
    and a carolyn rodgers poem about a beautiful sister
    and a father poem for hoyt fuller
    and a jet poem because we’ve never been in it
    and a scared poem about me taking your clothes off
    then offering an excuse
    and a man poem about how you reached your Blackness
    or perhaps an alcoholic poem about your mother
    and a climbing poem about how you reached the heights
    and a you poem mostly
    cause your other poems
    don’t tell me who you are
    and i
    having felt and tasted you know
    what you should know and relate to
    that you should write and are capable of writing
    a tall lean explosive poem
    not just a quiet half white hating poem
    about a black poem
    called a black poet
    that i know and would like to love
    again

For Teresa
    and when i was all alone
    facing my adolescence
    looking forward
    to cleaning house
    and reading books
    and maybe learning bridge
    so that i could fit
    into acceptable society
    acceptably
    you came along
    and loved me
    for being black and bitchy
    hateful and scared
    and you came along
    and cared that i got
    all the things necessary
    to adulthood
    and even made sure
    i wouldn’t hate
    my mother
    or father
    and you even understood
    that i should love
    peppe
    but not too much
    and give to gary
    but not all of me
    and keep on moving
    â€™til i found me
    and now you’re sick
    and have been hurt
    for some time
    and i’ve felt guilty
    and impotent
    for not being able
    to give yourself
    to you
    as you gave
    yourself
    to me

My Poem
    i am 25 years old
    black female poet
    wrote a poem asking
    nigger can you kill
    if they kill me
    it won’t stop
    the revolution
    i have been robbed
    it looked like they knew
    that i was to be hit
    they took my tv
    my two rings
    my piece of african print
    and my two guns
    if they take my life
    it won’t stop
    the revolution
    my phone is tapped
    my mail is opened
    they’ve caused me to turn
    on all my old friends
    and all my new lovers
    if i hate all black
    people
    and all negroes
    it won’t stop
    the revolution
    i’m afraid to tell
    my roommate where i’m going
    and scared to tell
    people if i’m coming
    if i sit here
    for the rest
    of my life
    it won’t stop
    the revolution
    if i never write
    another poem
    or short story
    if i flunk out
    of grad school
    if my car is reclaimed
    and my record player
    won’t play
    and if i never see
    a peaceful day
    or do a meaningful
    black thing
    it won’t stop
    the revolution
    the revolution
    is in the streets
    and if i stay on
    the 5th floor
    it will go on
    if i never do
    anything
    it will go on

Black Judgements
    (Of bullshit niggerish ways)
    You
    with your bullshit niggerish ways
    want to destroy me
    You want to preach
    responsible revolution
    along with progressive
    procreation
    Your desires will not be honored
    this season
    Shivering under the armour
    of your
    white protector
    fear not
    for thou art evil
    The audacity of wanting
    to be near the life
    of what you seek to kill
    Can you love
    can you hate
    is your game any damn good
    Black Judgements are upon you
    Black Judgements are upon you

For Tommy
    to tommy who:
    eats chocolate cookies and lamb chops
    climbs stairs and cries when i change
    his diaper
    lets me hold him only on his schedule
    defined my nature
    and gave me a new name (mommy)
    which supersedes all others
    controls my life
    and makes me glad
    that he does

Two Poems:
    From Barbados
    the mother palm had plaited her daughter’s
    hair for us
    to sit under
    while her bad little boy
    cloud wet
    in public grape