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HOODOO VOODOO CHICKEN
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Voodoo Chicken 1
“A spectre is haunting
america—the spectre of
neo-hoodooism”
—Ishmael Reed,
“Black Power Poem,”
Conjure, New and
Collected Poems
Hoodoo Voodoo boyz—
Neo-HooDoo young hustlers
Knockin’ at your door.
That aint a door-bell—
Buzzin’ in your whitey head
Dat’s Voodoo drum-time!
Voodoo Chicken 2
“A whole chicken.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“The Neo-HooDoo
Aesthetic,” Conjure,
New and Collected Poems
You say you gotta—
Whale in your thigh, baby?
Harpoon it for me.
Here’s my phone-number—
I’m into Voodoo Chicken,
Zombies turn me on!
Voodoo Chicken 3
“I am a cowboy
in the boat of Ra,
sidewinders in the
saloons of fools.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“I am a Cowboy in
the Boat of Ra,”
Conjure, New and
Collected Poems
Everybody knows—
The Devil makes me do it
Gotta pay for it.
Vamoosed by the cops—
We Badboyz of Boogaloo
Milky Way Vampires.
Voodoo Chicken 4
“Neo-HooDoo is the
music of James Brown
without the lyrics.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“The Neo-HooDoo
Manifesto,” Conjure,
New and Collected Poems
Dirty Boogie time—
I got da Loup Garou Groin
And Ju-ju Snake Lips.
Hung like the Congo—
Just ask any young Mambo
Erzulie chicks know.
Voodoo Chicken 5
“That’s why in Ralph
Ellison’s modern novel
“Invisible Man,” New
Orleans is described as
”The Home of Mystery.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“The Neo-HooDoo
Manifesto,” Conjure,
New and Collected Poems
As Larry Neal says—
Hoodoo Voodoo’s your Mama
Dat Marie Laveau.
Little Richard sings—
“Good Golly, Miss Molly!!!”
Sexy Sermonette!!!
Voodoo Chicken 6
“When He crows
they tremble and
when He comes
they flee.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“The Black Cock,”
Conjure, New and
Collected Poems
I got hex-signs here—
On all my bathroom windows
When I shit they scream.
When I take a dump—
They quiver and when I pee
They frown & they flee.
Voodoo Chicken 7
“Betty touched his organ,
made his cathedral rock,
his worshippers moaned
and shouted, his stained
glass windows cracked.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“Betty’s Ball Blues,”
Conjure, New and
Collected Poems
Voodoo Badboyz—
Dressed like cute Preppie Zombies
They can walk thru walls.
I stay up late at night—
For Night of the Walking Dead
Let them give me Head.
Voodoo Chicken 8
“Shine descends
as weird moonlight
as blues riffed memory”
—Larry Neal, “Ghost Poem,”
Hoodoo Hollerin Bebop Ghosts
Voodoo as dark chicken—
The singer at the crossroads
Specter-smeared body.
Eerie way down here—
Sucking the young fear outta
Your Titanic boyz.
Voodoo Chicken 9
“You know that he will
come as sure as shit
snorting good blow for
courage and he will burn
you at the peak of your
peacocking glory”
—Larry Neal, “Ghost Poem,”
Hoodoo Hollerin Bebop Ghosts
Now you jive with the—
Shadows at the dark end of
Turk’s Tavern at night.
Does your Mama know—
You been runnin’ around bad
With that fast-track crowd?
Voodoo Chicken 10
“Worse about them
is that they do not
take me seriously or
either that they take
me too seriously”
—Larry Neal, “Ghost Poem,”
Hoodoo Hollerin Bebop Ghosts
You let them touch you—
With nothin’ on but your own
Down-low opinion.
Scoffing at wearing—
Clothes when your sinking body
Just waits to be had.
Voodoo Chicken 11
“Dig night swinging there:
the cocaine sinners as
woven flesh; dark penis
exploding somewhere
between the lips of the city”
—Larry Neal, “Ghost Poem,”
Hoodoo Hollerin Bebop Ghosts
Strip tease for the moon—
But more for the money that
Pays the pimp your coke.
You’re trigger nervous—
Swinging with the whitey lips
After-hours blowjob.
Voodoo Chicken 12
“they have gone now,
back to shadow,
those spirits who
sing now through
this poem”
—Quincy Troupe, “The Old
People Speak of Death,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Cute Voodoo chicken—
Your smile growing like ingrown
Root fused with HooDoo.
The old folks ooze thru—
The holes in your turnstile eyes
Thru your young hardness.
Voodoo Chicken 13
“it never did matter
whether the weather
was as cold as a
welldigger’s asshole”
—Quincy Troupe,
“Old Black Ladies
Standing on Bus
Stop Corners,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
It doesn’t matter—
You just stand there anyway
In full male beauty.
Late December night—
Bent legs there at the bus stop
Giving me your strength.
Voodoo Chicken 14
“The hole in his
heart deepens,
pain has no
way out”
—Toi Derricotte,
“The Furious Boy,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
The furious boy—
A young heavy falling star
Pain always finds him.
I cannot say no—
He sucks me down into his
Dinge Voodoo HooDoo.
Voodoo Chicken 15
“Who takes
something takes
it from him”
—Toi Derricotte,
“The Furious Boy,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Light is too heavy—
It can’t escape from his sad
Voodooing Darkness.
I touch him gently—
He looks away but I feel
Voodoo HooDoo Love.
Voodoo Chicken 16
“Born of my trunk
and strengthened
by my roots”
—Naomi Long Madgett,
“Offspring,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
He stretches it for me—
His newgrown mulatto root
My Voodoo Brother.
I follow him down—
Down that dark Voodoo HooDoo
Highway to Freedom.
Voodoo Chicken 17
“everyblackoneofus
had his own private
lynching, carried it
‘round with him”
—Alvin Aubert,
“Blood to Blood,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
My baby is black—
I got ten inches down there
It’s like always scared.
I know those dirty—
White-boyz want it real bad
They be queer for it.
Voodoo Chicken 18
“Make some muscle
in your head, but
use the muscle
in yr heart”
—Amiri Baraka
“Young Soul,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
My bent black muscle—
I bend & twist it badly
All night long sometimes.
I couldn’t help it—
Hated my bentslick Father
White-trash Big Daddy.
Voodoo Chicken 19
“perpetual hard-ons,
smoldering fire in
gristle’s desire”
—Quincy Troupe,
“Reflections on
Growing Older,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
All that Cockiness—
Perfect dinge young Arrogance
Smooth teen liquid Strut.
My roped, Rasta Hair—
Snaking down in Braided Veins
Over my wide shoulders.
Voodoo Chicken 20
“now that the streets
are safe to walk with
small twenty-twos
and straight razors”
—Afaa Michael Weaver,
“Baby Boy,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
I don’t hold it back—
Deep down here with my baby
When he goes snake eyes.
Now that queer Artists—
Like Mapplethorpe pay us models
Big bucks for Voodoo.
Voodoo Chicken 21
“They told Rowena
not to marry Calvin—
too dark, too too dark”
—Toi Derricotte,
“Family Secrets,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
I go down on him—
My young dark 16-year-old
Cousin Calvin Jones.
One lonely night in—
The Gotham City Motel
Secret gods are freed.
Voodoo Chicken 22
“Undressing in the dark,
looking, not looking”
—Toi Derricotte,
“Touching/Not Touching,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
That first night in the—
Motel bedroom when the lights
Went out we made love.
Going down on him—
I almost suffocated
Young Lover or Beast?
Voodoo Chicken 23
“Now I can almost touch
the other side of my life”
—Toi Derricotte,
“Touching/Not Touching,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Proud as a peacock—
Calvin’s strong mean lanky legs
Wrapped around my neck.
And then I took it—
What’s not mine to keep for long
His dinge twelve inches.
Voodoo Chicken 24
“Abraham got all
the stars n the sand,
she got all the rainbow”
—Ruth Forman,
“Abraham Got All the
Stars n the Sand,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Tyrone smooth onyx—
Dwayne Jerome gingerbread,
Jones jet-black as ink.
Each one of them hot—
HooDoo Voodoo Halloween
Licorice candy.
Voodoo Chicken 25
“In a Harlem cabaret
Six long-headed jazzers play.”
—Langston Hughes,
“Jazzonia,” Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Harlem cabaret—
A dark dancing boy whose eyes
Glimmer like Fool’s Gold.
Sullen Salome—
Take my ogling Voodoo head
For your silver plate!!!
Voodoo Chicken 26
“Holy the days of the old
prune face junkie men,
holy the skag filled arms.”
—Larry Neal, “Holy Days,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Where’s that bright North Star—
That Harriet & Douglass
Followed to Freedom?
Those raped Holidays—
Those Mississippi lynchings
Singers & Sinners?
Voodoo Chicken 27
“And so the seed
becomes a flower
and in its hour
reproduces dreams
and flowers.”
—Langston Hughes,
“For Russell and Rowena,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Voodoo HooDoo weed—
Becomes a summer shower
For a new lover.
And so does the root—
The trunk, the tree, then your sap
What’d ya think of that?
Voodoo Chicken 28
“I have a dream,
no not Martin’s,”
—Pat Parker,
“I Have a Dream,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
In my dream I can—
Walk the streets late with you
Voodoo Hoodoo Boy.
Holding hands with you—
Tank-topped, buzz-cut chicken
HooDoo lover-boy.
“A spectre is haunting
america—the spectre of
neo-hoodooism”
—Ishmael Reed,
“Black Power Poem,”
Conjure, New and
Collected Poems
Hoodoo Voodoo boyz—
Neo-HooDoo young hustlers
Knockin’ at your door.
That aint a door-bell—
Buzzin’ in your whitey head
Dat’s Voodoo drum-time!
Voodoo Chicken 2
“A whole chicken.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“The Neo-HooDoo
Aesthetic,” Conjure,
New and Collected Poems
You say you gotta—
Whale in your thigh, baby?
Harpoon it for me.
Here’s my phone-number—
I’m into Voodoo Chicken,
Zombies turn me on!
Voodoo Chicken 3
“I am a cowboy
in the boat of Ra,
sidewinders in the
saloons of fools.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“I am a Cowboy in
the Boat of Ra,”
Conjure, New and
Collected Poems
Everybody knows—
The Devil makes me do it
Gotta pay for it.
Vamoosed by the cops—
We Badboyz of Boogaloo
Milky Way Vampires.
Voodoo Chicken 4
“Neo-HooDoo is the
music of James Brown
without the lyrics.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“The Neo-HooDoo
Manifesto,” Conjure,
New and Collected Poems
Dirty Boogie time—
I got da Loup Garou Groin
And Ju-ju Snake Lips.
Hung like the Congo—
Just ask any young Mambo
Erzulie chicks know.
Voodoo Chicken 5
“That’s why in Ralph
Ellison’s modern novel
“Invisible Man,” New
Orleans is described as
”The Home of Mystery.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“The Neo-HooDoo
Manifesto,” Conjure,
New and Collected Poems
As Larry Neal says—
Hoodoo Voodoo’s your Mama
Dat Marie Laveau.
Little Richard sings—
“Good Golly, Miss Molly!!!”
Sexy Sermonette!!!
Voodoo Chicken 6
“When He crows
they tremble and
when He comes
they flee.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“The Black Cock,”
Conjure, New and
Collected Poems
I got hex-signs here—
On all my bathroom windows
When I shit they scream.
When I take a dump—
They quiver and when I pee
They frown & they flee.
Voodoo Chicken 7
“Betty touched his organ,
made his cathedral rock,
his worshippers moaned
and shouted, his stained
glass windows cracked.”
—Ishmael Reed,
“Betty’s Ball Blues,”
Conjure, New and
Collected Poems
Voodoo Badboyz—
Dressed like cute Preppie Zombies
They can walk thru walls.
I stay up late at night—
For Night of the Walking Dead
Let them give me Head.
Voodoo Chicken 8
“Shine descends
as weird moonlight
as blues riffed memory”
—Larry Neal, “Ghost Poem,”
Hoodoo Hollerin Bebop Ghosts
Voodoo as dark chicken—
The singer at the crossroads
Specter-smeared body.
Eerie way down here—
Sucking the young fear outta
Your Titanic boyz.
Voodoo Chicken 9
“You know that he will
come as sure as shit
snorting good blow for
courage and he will burn
you at the peak of your
peacocking glory”
—Larry Neal, “Ghost Poem,”
Hoodoo Hollerin Bebop Ghosts
Now you jive with the—
Shadows at the dark end of
Turk’s Tavern at night.
Does your Mama know—
You been runnin’ around bad
With that fast-track crowd?
Voodoo Chicken 10
“Worse about them
is that they do not
take me seriously or
either that they take
me too seriously”
—Larry Neal, “Ghost Poem,”
Hoodoo Hollerin Bebop Ghosts
You let them touch you—
With nothin’ on but your own
Down-low opinion.
Scoffing at wearing—
Clothes when your sinking body
Just waits to be had.
Voodoo Chicken 11
“Dig night swinging there:
the cocaine sinners as
woven flesh; dark penis
exploding somewhere
between the lips of the city”
—Larry Neal, “Ghost Poem,”
Hoodoo Hollerin Bebop Ghosts
Strip tease for the moon—
But more for the money that
Pays the pimp your coke.
You’re trigger nervous—
Swinging with the whitey lips
After-hours blowjob.
Voodoo Chicken 12
“they have gone now,
back to shadow,
those spirits who
sing now through
this poem”
—Quincy Troupe, “The Old
People Speak of Death,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Cute Voodoo chicken—
Your smile growing like ingrown
Root fused with HooDoo.
The old folks ooze thru—
The holes in your turnstile eyes
Thru your young hardness.
Voodoo Chicken 13
“it never did matter
whether the weather
was as cold as a
welldigger’s asshole”
—Quincy Troupe,
“Old Black Ladies
Standing on Bus
Stop Corners,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
It doesn’t matter—
You just stand there anyway
In full male beauty.
Late December night—
Bent legs there at the bus stop
Giving me your strength.
Voodoo Chicken 14
“The hole in his
heart deepens,
pain has no
way out”
—Toi Derricotte,
“The Furious Boy,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
The furious boy—
A young heavy falling star
Pain always finds him.
I cannot say no—
He sucks me down into his
Dinge Voodoo HooDoo.
Voodoo Chicken 15
“Who takes
something takes
it from him”
—Toi Derricotte,
“The Furious Boy,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Light is too heavy—
It can’t escape from his sad
Voodooing Darkness.
I touch him gently—
He looks away but I feel
Voodoo HooDoo Love.
Voodoo Chicken 16
“Born of my trunk
and strengthened
by my roots”
—Naomi Long Madgett,
“Offspring,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
He stretches it for me—
His newgrown mulatto root
My Voodoo Brother.
I follow him down—
Down that dark Voodoo HooDoo
Highway to Freedom.
Voodoo Chicken 17
“everyblackoneofus
had his own private
lynching, carried it
‘round with him”
—Alvin Aubert,
“Blood to Blood,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
My baby is black—
I got ten inches down there
It’s like always scared.
I know those dirty—
White-boyz want it real bad
They be queer for it.
Voodoo Chicken 18
“Make some muscle
in your head, but
use the muscle
in yr heart”
—Amiri Baraka
“Young Soul,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
My bent black muscle—
I bend & twist it badly
All night long sometimes.
I couldn’t help it—
Hated my bentslick Father
White-trash Big Daddy.
Voodoo Chicken 19
“perpetual hard-ons,
smoldering fire in
gristle’s desire”
—Quincy Troupe,
“Reflections on
Growing Older,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
All that Cockiness—
Perfect dinge young Arrogance
Smooth teen liquid Strut.
My roped, Rasta Hair—
Snaking down in Braided Veins
Over my wide shoulders.
Voodoo Chicken 20
“now that the streets
are safe to walk with
small twenty-twos
and straight razors”
—Afaa Michael Weaver,
“Baby Boy,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
I don’t hold it back—
Deep down here with my baby
When he goes snake eyes.
Now that queer Artists—
Like Mapplethorpe pay us models
Big bucks for Voodoo.
Voodoo Chicken 21
“They told Rowena
not to marry Calvin—
too dark, too too dark”
—Toi Derricotte,
“Family Secrets,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
I go down on him—
My young dark 16-year-old
Cousin Calvin Jones.
One lonely night in—
The Gotham City Motel
Secret gods are freed.
Voodoo Chicken 22
“Undressing in the dark,
looking, not looking”
—Toi Derricotte,
“Touching/Not Touching,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
That first night in the—
Motel bedroom when the lights
Went out we made love.
Going down on him—
I almost suffocated
Young Lover or Beast?
Voodoo Chicken 23
“Now I can almost touch
the other side of my life”
—Toi Derricotte,
“Touching/Not Touching,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Proud as a peacock—
Calvin’s strong mean lanky legs
Wrapped around my neck.
And then I took it—
What’s not mine to keep for long
His dinge twelve inches.
Voodoo Chicken 24
“Abraham got all
the stars n the sand,
she got all the rainbow”
—Ruth Forman,
“Abraham Got All the
Stars n the Sand,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Tyrone smooth onyx—
Dwayne Jerome gingerbread,
Jones jet-black as ink.
Each one of them hot—
HooDoo Voodoo Halloween
Licorice candy.
Voodoo Chicken 25
“In a Harlem cabaret
Six long-headed jazzers play.”
—Langston Hughes,
“Jazzonia,” Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Harlem cabaret—
A dark dancing boy whose eyes
Glimmer like Fool’s Gold.
Sullen Salome—
Take my ogling Voodoo head
For your silver plate!!!
Voodoo Chicken 26
“Holy the days of the old
prune face junkie men,
holy the skag filled arms.”
—Larry Neal, “Holy Days,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Where’s that bright North Star—
That Harriet & Douglass
Followed to Freedom?
Those raped Holidays—
Those Mississippi lynchings
Singers & Sinners?
Voodoo Chicken 27
“And so the seed
becomes a flower
and in its hour
reproduces dreams
and flowers.”
—Langston Hughes,
“For Russell and Rowena,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
Voodoo HooDoo weed—
Becomes a summer shower
For a new lover.
And so does the root—
The trunk, the tree, then your sap
What’d ya think of that?
Voodoo Chicken 28
“I have a dream,
no not Martin’s,”
—Pat Parker,
“I Have a Dream,”
Oxford Anthology of
African-American Poetry
In my dream I can—
Walk the streets late with you
Voodoo Hoodoo Boy.
Holding hands with you—
Tank-topped, buzz-cut chicken
HooDoo lover-boy.
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