Poem 463:


I am, my friend

A part of this world

A being of many parts, manifold

Of unknown ancestries, misconceived origins

If I could see my many forbears today

I’d probably see (for sure)

The color of the times in them

My mother, my father

And those before them I know

Had a difference in them

As wide as the Grand Canyon


I could never really explain

Some tell me (ever so often)

So, so many different tales

I’ve learned a lot, you know

For now

I truly don’t know who or what to believe

My mother had a nose so long

Pinochio would lose a contest of noses with her

My father’s skin so light

He could’ve passed for one of them

My grandma on his side

Had this strange look

Of one who’d scalped so many settlers

His father looked like

A cross between Ching Chang & Mona Lisa

Her father, no better or worse

His face had the shape of a sculpture

Now my grandma was different

She seemed to be a full blooded


Even so

They tell me (gleefully)

She has some strange blood in her too

I saw one of the great grand ones

In a picture mounted in the old place

So, so long ago

That is, before it was torn down


If I remember correctly

They were not any better off either

They also told me

(My "faithful" friends of lore)

The ones with the funny look

Were almost always products of unholy & forceful alliances

My relatives on one side

Look like a brew

Of Kunta Kinte, Ching Chang, Uuga Manga, John Doe………

And a hos t of who know’s what


The other guys had so much blood in them

I still can’t figure out

Who’s what & what’s in who

Hell, who cares ?

Not me, of course

(I’m already made, my brother)

No going back for me

Or change of address possible, that I’m sure of)

By now I guess

You’re wondering about me

How I look

What I look like

Don’t worry

I look like anybody

Who’s had so many people take a part in deciding how he looks

A disaster

Now, on the other hand

My sister is the lucky one

You’d probably think

She was an angel come to earth awhile

Uh !

Don’t ask me what I think of this all


I ain’t telling no one

Not even myself









@ Baba 6/19/93 6:20 p.m.

Written at Brooklyn/Cath U. Metro Station while for one of the R buses.

*Inspiration from a guy wearing a black ‘T’ shirt with UNKNOWN ANCESTRY in white (& a big question mark in the middle) on the back, with his girlfriend/wife with a baby. He, blackish; she, whitish & it, definitely, a mulatto. Oops ! ‘it’ is a baby.


Last Revised: 01-Nov-99
Copyright © 1998 BMWA / baba. All rights reserved.






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