Friday, May 21, 2010

Take A Minute. Read A Poem.

Langston Hughes was one of the few writers that accomplished the near impossible: he wrote political poems that actually sounded good. In this age of dumbass has- been country stars singing at teabagger rallies, crappy materialistic gangsta rap, and cynical pop culture it serves one well to read a poem like this to remind us there was a time when artists actually used their talent to promote the common good rather than their own naked self- interest.
Let America Be America Again ( 1938)
By Langston Hughes

Let America be America again
Let it be the dream it used to be
Let the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
( America was never America to me).
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed- Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above
( It never was America to me).
O, let my land be a land where liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
( There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this " homeland of the free.")
Say, who are you in that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek- And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of land grab!
Of grab the gold!Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean- Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today- O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home- For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a " homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me?The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay- Except the dream that's almost dead today.
O, let America be America again- That land that never has been yet- And yet must be- the land where every man is free.
That land that's mine- the poor man's, Indian's, negro's, ME- Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose- The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes.
I say it plain.
America was never America to me.
And yet I swear this oath- America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land. the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain- All,all the stretch of these great green states- And make America again!

1 comment:

Dresden Scott said...

Langston Hughes! One of the very finest poets this country has ever offered the world. The academic world usually waters down his message, shows just a poem or two, really makes him into a thirty-second soundbite. Ends up sounding like a dejected complainer. But he wasn't "just" a "Negro poet," representing a marginalized people (as if any individual could represent an entire race). He was a true socialist and a believer in a capable humanity.

Thanks for posting this, Comrade! Inspirational.