This week's Poet of the People is Bugsy Calhoun. Bugsy has been a fixture of the spoken word community performing throughout South Carolina and surrounding states. Coming out of the COVID lockdown he pivoted his focus and is now the leading organizer and advocate for spoken word poets in the Midlands. The spoken word community has become a force with events almost every night of the week. Poetry in the Midlands is indebted to Bugsy Calhoun and I am honored to call him my friend.
Poem1
Dear momma I still call your number knowing you won't answer what would I say if you did answer I would tell you that I'm ok even though most times I'm not I would confess that I failed as husband like my father but above all things I'm doing my best to be a good dad I did what you said started over from the ground up my time on earth has been a Testament to your teaching since you been gone how I wish I was there holding your hand whipping your tears away before you finally let go to be with God I wouldn't tell you about all the pain I've been in physically and mentally but I know you would hear it all in my voice because you my mother my Queen who knew everything about me before I knew it myself you had the cheat code to my thoughts and ideas Spiritually you with me the most time I feel like a motherless child holding onto memories Google mapping the house I was raised in wishing I can scream your name can throw the key down let me in I will probably never visit your grave site because I pay my respects to you Myra Dee Dee And Ra Ra when I set foot on Bergen Street if I'm lucky I go to the house and breath in my heritage allow the Nostalgia to wrap his arms around me like a warm blanket I close my eyes and hear your voice like my conscience never will I forget you as long as blood flow in my veins looking in the mirror I see you looking back at me sometimes I remember the echoes of encouragements of you reminding me your Umi your son to how to stand a be a man in this cruel world the Queen in you has birth the King in me I'm forever grateful for you love it will reside in me for as long as I live no longer living in blue sky's that's now turn grey since you been gone
Poem2
This is about the sacrifice and the struggle
Black Wall Street being reborn on the backs of black business owners of today
reclaiming our reparations like reconstruction
this is about bold beautiful sisters who refuse to work for somebody's nine-to-five
but for themselves they will work 25 8 taking this time in there life to dedicate something that they can leave as a legacy for oncoming Generations
this is for the brothers that bond together to build generational wealth by lifting each other up by their own bootstraps never looking for a handout but ready to hand out what is necessary for us to stand on our own two feet
no this isn't big business
this is Mom and Pops
beauty salon an barber shops and restaurants
that make food for our souls visionaries who made something out of nothing never taking nothing for granted
To be brave enough to say to world im am here
and I have something you want to give change after service is rendered with a smile to share conversation ideas and gratitude with strangers that become your friends and neighbors over time
to become a staple in your community overtime
to know what you are doing is bigger than you
to truly embrace being a boss
Business Organizer Scheduling System
Brothers of the Same Struggle
Building Opportunities for Self-Sufficiency
to stand by it and guarantee it
This Is Black business
Poem3
It takes a special kind of ugly to beat the beautiful out of you to belittle your very existence to berate you with a bunch you insults viciously verbal bombarding you with derogatory descriptions to transform a mahogany brown into blacks and Blues beat you with in a inch of your life in love to call for God and no one answers mac can't make up the excuse for his anger to contemplate dying in your sleep than living awake in a nightmare to sleep with the enemy to justify his actions to question your self maybe it was me or something I said to lye in bed going over all the lies he said to be trapped in the prison of askaban the cracked walls don't feel pain like I do crack ribs remind me every time I breath what this kind of love feels like butterflies in my stomach have morphed into crows that circle over my head I'm scared to see tomorrow I try to hold on to memories a love story that
now turned into a horror flick hoping things will get better not ready to grab the life preserver from saviors nor listen to advice or prayers because they don't him like I do to put band aids of our good times over fresh bruises has become a new chapter in our walk together it took me losing my eye site to see that he wasn't the one for me even Scooby do showed the monsters hide behind mask to realise that wolves in sheeps clothing are not only found in fairytales
Poem4
Mothers and tired of black children being made into Martyrs from unjust murders we have been Willie Lynch since we were captured from the shores of Africa white hoods have been traded for black and blue police uniforms made it legal to hunt men like me because Justice is blind Thirteenth Amendment and the industrial Prison Complex is the new slave trade mandatory drug sentences equal genocide for people with melanin murdered by cops equal admin leave the benefits and pensions niggars have no color no conscience or code of conduct for every black person killed on camera there were 20 more who will never get named or a hashtag or there last words made into catch phrases to be sold on t-shirts we have been spinning our wheels for too long murder hashtag protest no conviction riot repeat Officer Jim Crow applied Chokehold and segregated the life out of his black body the color of his skin pose the threat hands up don't shoot threat I can't breathe threat he was wearing a hoodie threat in the confines of my own home threat we got Soldiers with no leaders they'll show you better than they can tell you what happens to our leaders any man that tried to force change has been made a Mater by America's bastard children I am fortunate to survive my lynchings scared and afraid of those who supposed to Serve and Protect today there's too much talk with no actions tired of Facebook and Twitter rants social media activist being called a Nigger don't make me one unplug and wake up from the Matrix red and blue pill resemble every police lights in the distance agent Smith Reminds Me of every racist cop in existence I'm afraid for my son his mother my daughter and lastly myself speeches and poems don't make you an activist action in your community does athletes are willing to speak on Kaepernick taking a knee but won't take a stand themselves the president called them filled niggars play ball it is the only time that we can run and not get killed for it we are sick and tired of being sick and tired they are no riots without reasons protest reform and Revolt and are the seeds of revolution see the hate that is made is the hate that you gave there will be no change until we change freedom from mental slavery breaking the chains I pray we can find a resolution From the Ashes of the flames
Poem5
I dedicate these words to my father and to those with the courage to help where help is needed for those fighting the good fight we won't lay down and die we will keep on living through the support of loved ones and Samaritans who know about service and sacrifice may you find the strength to endure to live a life of longevity finding your second chance to Salvation somewhere between holistic and Hallelujah together through tolerance we can transform the treatment of transgender individuals teaching there is a better way because this disease does not discriminate race religion Creed color identification or orientation to those who find themselves hopeless or homeless may you find refuge in these words remember to rise every day to reclaim your respect with resounding resilience and accept that death is not in your diagnosis may you find a fulfilling life on your journey Embrace every day as it comes remember the reward and living your best life stay uplifted when ugly actions and words draped in ignorance and rejection find you with quil I quilted scripted stitchings of words giving by infected and affected projecting that through love knowledge wisdom understanding education perseverance empathy and compassion we can eradicate the stigma of those who live with HIV and AIDS and come together to understand that it's your dignity not your diagnosis that defines you
Poem 6
This poem will not be superficial
This poem will recognize that reparations are pass due
This poem will be acknowledgment that the sacrifice of our ancestors is present in our present generation
This will feel like Gil Scott-Heron giving honor to Maya Angelo
Fueled by the Passion of James Baldwin
An ode to Madame Gwendolyn Brooks, Nikki Giovanni and Paul Laurence Dunbar
This poem will be a freedom song
A new Negro spiritual
We will lift every voice and sing
This poem is the realization that free at last is still a dream by Dr. King
It's knowing that trouble won't last always but joy will come in the morning
To understand that black is beautiful, black is strong, black is powerful, black is resilient
Black is survival by any means necessary
Remember we were kings and queens
Before the slave trade and middle passage segregation and Jim Crow, Black Wall Street and Tuskegee Experiments
Cause we be making something from nothing
We be feeding our families with the leftovers of our oppressors
We be innovation black inventions H.B.C.U. black education, black girl magic, refined minds divine nine
We are the culture that you wish you was
The style you pattern yourself after
We are Joe Louis, Jackie Robinson, Jim Brown
Maya Rudolph, Phillis Wheatley, Mary McLeod Bethune
Fred Shuttlesworth, JamesBevel, Stokely Carlmicheal Ralph David Abernathy, Jessie Jackson, Andrew Young, Bayard Rustin,
Miles Davis, John Coletrain, Thelonious Monk & Donald Bird
We are love supreme and a dream deferred
We are first black president serving two terms
This poem is confirmation that black lives matter
Black is the origin that birth nations after
It's I self-love and master
Knowledge wisdom and understanding
That there's magic in your Melanin
The reflection of God in every man
We are more than we shall overcome
Our existence is the testament to everything we overcome
We're more than any month, more than any color, more than any Name
Bio
(Bugsy Calhoun) Jamal Washington a poet emcee born and raised in the OceanHill Brownsville section of Brooklyn NY, Debuted his poetry at the Brooklyn Moon. He is founding member of the Unusual Suspects poetry Troop and member of Black on Black Rhyme and the slam master of Columbia's slam team Tribe Slam he Co-hosts an open mic at The House of Hathor called the J.A.M. Session with his wife (Wintah Storm) Karen Joyner Washington he also has 6 spoken word and hip hop music projects on www.Bandcamp.com/bugsycalhoun Bugsy works in the community using his poetry to build Bridges not barriers he works with Tracy Oakman who runs the Princes Empowerment and Boyz II Men infused mentoring program.
To understand the rhythm and flow of Bugsy's poetry it is best heard live and I encourage you to step outside of your comfort zone and listen to our spoken word poets in their element.