Header
---------------
Links
Photos
1776 and other epic poems by Johnny Blade
---------------

 

Image 

 

1776 and other epic poems by Johnny Blade

(simply scroll down to find the poem you’d like)


     TABLE OF CONTENTS

1776- The dramatic tale of how George Washington
and his army were able to escape from New York.

Kunta Kinte’s Dream- A poem about a fictional
late- 1700’s slave revolt.

Conquistadors- (the battle scenes read like
very good heavy metal lyrics)

Danielle- About an erotic dancer who is nervous
because it’s her first day on the job

Caravans (a desert adventure)

Kunta Kinte’s Dream (prologue)

A Desperate Last Stand- (this poem is quite graphic)

 


1776

This poem begins with the battle of Long Island, N.Y.
Just a month and a half after the Declaration of Independence was signed


All was chaos and great loss
No orderly retreat was this
But the worst sort of rout

Officers shouting, pleading
Attempting to restore order,
Were quite literally run over

This was nothing less than a stampede
Not even the wide stream up ahead
Could impede the frenzied mob
Which plunged headlong
Into the frigid water

Rifles were held aloft by some,
But discarded shamefully by others

Men who tripped were soon smothered
Under the trampling, frantic feet

The wretched stench of defeat
Did more than merely linger,
Penetrating to my very core

As I paused above a rocky outcrop
Already I could see
The drifting of not yet bloated bodies
As they journeyed out to sea

The muddied stream wore a shade of crimson
And scattered about it’s shore
Were heaps of flesh
Which till recently had been human

The entire scene did reek of ruin
Yet what most dismayed my sight
Were the scattered packs and discarded muskets
Where had gone the spirit of our fight?

Was it only just a dream
Or had we not indeed defied
At least for a short time
The might of a far off king?

Only this morning we had stood united,
Side by side,
Our battle lines as stern and rigid
As our resolve

We had faced horrendous odds
The greatest force Great Britain had ever sent abroad

All throughout early august
Their ships were dropping anchor
Till at last their bare masts
So filled up the harbor
They resembled an entire forest
Of trimmed pine trees
And every man of war
Was a floating battery

Through their telescopic sights
Our officers were doubtless sent a shudder
By the mere numbers of disembarking troops

It appeared Staten Island would surely sink
Beneath it’s weight, they were so many

No doubt the teeming slums of London
Had been all but striped bare
Of able bodied, yet idle men
Ole King George had found a use for them

Rumor was, he’d even gone and hired Hessians
Mercenaries all the way from Germany!!
Such a crime could scarcely be believed
Yet how else could we account
For such a force upon our shores

We had thought ourselves blessed
Back when we had severed our ties
That the might of an ocean
Between us and England did lie

Yet they had weathered the Atlantic
With the most impressive army
Ever to set foot upon the continent

To and fro, each and every day
Did their splendid regiments parade
Displaying, for all of us to see
Their clear superiority

They wheeled about
With a precision
Which could only be weaned
Through endless drill
And the harshest forms of discipline

Why our enemy
Appeared more akin to machines than men!!

All throughout the summer
We had waited for them
With ten thousand souls
Here on Long Island’s soil
A similar number
Just across the East River in Manhattan
Where with our shovels and spades
We’d transformed New York
Into a city bristling with barricades

We were in dire need of such entrenchments
For besides cannon captured earlier in the war
We were armed only
With the wide variety of weapons
Which the men had brought with them

Brown Besses, Blunderbusses, Fowling pieces
And even an occasional rifle
Which, with it’s grooved barrel
Was capable of sending a bullet
A full two hundred yards accurately

With our musketry of such a wide variety
Our quartermasters faced a difficult chore
In keeping us supplied with ammunition

Fortunately our good citizens were all too eager
To donate items which could be melted down

The statue of King George upon his horse
Would alone provide sixteen-thousand rounds

An even more pressing problem
Than that of our weapons
Concerned the quality of the men

We hailed from every colony except Canada
Fathers straggling in with their sons
Or whole towns coming out in unison

A Virginian, George Washington,
Only nominally held command
For we were sorely untrained, ill supplied
And mostly only recently arrived
Our numbers always fluctuating
For men were free to leave at their own discretion

Farmers mostly, they’d drift in from the countryside
Only to vanish again come harvest time

Could these men, as yet untrained
Be counted upon to stand their ground
Once the battle was joined?

Or would their self-preserving instincts
Prove to be unmastered?
Were we headed for a disaster?

In and about the campfires
There were braggarts, full of bluster
Yet these men hadn’t yet seen battle
Would they still be so brave
When facing bayonets?

Certainly today they had failed their test
Though it must be said in the men’s defense
The British had struck where they were least expected

Though our front line was well protected,
Strung out though it was
Along the long stretch
Of Long Island’s heights

General Howe took us by surprise
Sending his men on a long flanking march this morning   
Over an unguarded ford
And through an empty wood

Our extreme left flank was struck suddenly
And with all our guns facing the wrong way

It’s only to be expected then
That our raw troops became confused and panicked

Yet why were there no pickets?

Yet whoever is to blame
The truth remains
That we are no longer an army,
But instead a rabble
Being driven forward like a herd of cattle
And this after our first battle!!

Shamefully I could only wade the stream
With the rest of the stragglers
After all, it was a far better cry
Than being captured
Yet, though I was forced to swallow my pride,
I deeply seethed inside

Closing my eyes,
I softly cried
For assuredly on this most accursed day
Had our most glorious cause died


Our retreat was most discouraging
And we no doubt made a most pathetic sight
Yet we were safe once we reached the Brooklyn Heights

There we were joined by reserves
Who were well entrenched and rested

There was a brief moment of apprehension
When the redcoats
Reformed, and marching in cadence
Greatly shortened the distance
Between themselves and us

But alas,
It proved not a real thrust
But merely a feign,
A showy display

They then wheeled smartly about
And left us the day

Their coup de grace
Would apparently wait until entrenchments,
Creeping steadily closer
Would enable their artillery
To be brought fearlessly into range

We’d then be blown to bits
And our cause along with it

Sir William Howe had decided
Upon a most conservative plan of attack
Yet with the East River at our backs
We were still hopelessly trapped
Upon a most tiny strip of land

Clearly we now face annihilation

And yet how ironic
That it’s been just a mere two months
Since that most festive day
When our declaration
Was first ratified by the delegates

Jefferson’s emboldened statement
Concerning the rights of men
So eloquently put to the pen

Church bells peeled
Raucous crowds cheering
In all the town squares

Despite the sweltering heat
The streets were wild and alive
With hopes and dreams

Yet did we really believe
That we could somehow break free
From that wicked tyrant across the sea?

The naysayers were all too quick to point out
Just how heavily the odds were stacked
In his Majesty’s favor

Foolishly, we simply brushed them off as traitors

Yet here we are
Just a mere two months later
Heavily outnumbered
And with our backs to the river
Waiting for a sledgehammer blow to be delivered

We have but one small comfort;
To our credit
Though we hail from separate colonies
We shall surely hang together
Our common cause indeed has brought us closer

Mostly our men are from Jersey,
New York or New England
Yet I’ve met many a Virginian

Strange men, these southerners
Yet they’ve traveled so far
And are quite brave

Initially, we shared diseases
More than pleasantries
Yet that’s begun to change

Our shared dream of freedom,
Alike experiences and sufferings
Have served to ease tensions
Between the men

Perhaps one day
We indeed might have become
A nation united

Governed by ourselves
And not the petty whims
And harsh decrees
Of a far off king

 Ah, to dream of what might have been!!

As it stands,
I can no longer imagine
Such happenings

Although I keep my lips pursed,
Lest be denounced as defeatist,
Or worse yet a traitor
Still I pray that our leaders
Do seriously consider
The King’s olive branch petition

It may indeed be our last hope
For reconciliation

With shame and great sorrow
I eyed our proud banner
Whipping about fiercely in the breeze

White, red and blue
Her colors flew
Just like the Union Jack

But with horizontal bars
And a circle of thirteen stars
One for every colony but Canada
Which chose to side with the mother country

My, she was pretty
Yet though resplendent,
She was as yet untested
And so very recently sown

Why, our entire nation
Was not yet two months old!!

Such a shame
That so very soon
She may be driven down
For the last time

I closed my eyes and cried
For surely on this most accursed day
Had our most glorious cause died


With our entrenchments already dug
There was little else to distract me
From increasingly somber thoughts
My heart sinking ever further into despair

Damn the congress for their having demanded
That New York had to be defended

The city was astir with tories
Who would only be too happy
To welcome a British presence

But worse yet
It rested on the southern tip of an island
Which was adrift in a British sea

I mentioned before just how numerous
Were the ships of the enemy
Which could so easily sail
Up either the East or the Hudson rivers

We had submerged a few rusting hulks
And had laid steel cables
Yet to no avail
Our enemy still ruled the waterways

That is until a thick fog
Descended fortuitously

Washington, without hesitation
Issued orders for a evacuation

Campfires were kept lit
Though they were manned thinly
As our entire army
Throughout a long and restless night
Was ferried to the relative safety
Of Manhattan’s shore

In later years
I would learn just how precipitous
Was our dire predicament
On that nervous, near endless night

Apparently,
While we were busy straining
Against the broad river
A tory woman, loyal to the crown
Had sent one of her slaves
To deliver the alarming news
Of our attempted escape

Had he not stumbled across Hessians
Who understood not what he was saying
Our enterprise would have been quite literally sunk

Instead we were able to steal away
Perhaps to fight another day?

As I boarded one of the last boats
Just an hour before the revealing light of dawn ascended
I was awarded the most amazing sight
Of our commander in chief
Large in stature as well as measure
As he directed our rearguard
From astride his white horse
Washington was one of the very last to leave.

Though we had been granted a reprieve
We were still in a bind
At the southern tip of Manhattan

Clearly New York would have to be abandoned
Yet still we dallied
As if we were capable of defending her

When we finally began to withdraw to the north
It was very nearly too late

Grenadiers stormed ashore at Kip’s Bay
A point midway up the island

The mere sight of the bright sun
Glinting so fiercely off their bayonets
Was more than enough to knot our bellies
And turn the supposed backbone
Of our shoreline
To so much jelly

Washington, who was at the scene  exclaimed
‘Are these the men
 with whom we are to defend America!!’

Incredulous,
He lashed out with his riding crop
At the men rushing past him
Yet to no avail
They still turned tail

Thoroughly dispirited,
He hung his head
Slouching in the saddle

The redcoats were already within musket range
When he was saved by a quick-thinking aide
Who pulled hard on his horses’ reins
To spirit the animal away

Had the redcoats marched swiftly
They could have then cut off our rearguard-
Henry Knox bringing up the artillery

Instead,
In the woods which would one day form Central Park
They shamefully stopped for tea!!
Only thus were four thousand men
And all our cannon spared

British laziness
(Or was it overconfidence?)
Had cost them yet another chance
To trap us near the sea

Yet no war has ever been won
Merely through great escapes

Our retreat, however miraculous,
Still reeked of defeat to the men
Who by now were most discouraged

Surprising it was then,
That we found our courage
At Harlem Heights
Where a skirmish was fed
Until it became a stiff fight
The queens own Black Watch
Was sent reeling in flight

Though it was but a small victory
It was one savored by the men
Who had little else to cheer

We’d built a pair of forts,
Washington and Lee,
To guard the Hudson
But the British defied their guns
And sailed at will
Up and down the river

Fort Washington,
In upper manhattan
Should thus have been abandoned
Yet into it’s inadequate defenses
We poured twenty-four hundred men
And far too many of our precious cannon

Some filthy Tory spy
Must have supplied Lord Howe
With the blueprints for it’s defenses
For his attack, when it came, was well planned

Simultaneous amphibious operations
Were launched against her north, east and southern sides

Many a mercenary german died
Assaulting the southern slope
For it was very steep

But our men couldn’t keep up their murderous fire
As their rifles soon were clogged
They’d been designed for hunting, not combat
And soon their barrels were too hot

The redcoats had an easier time
Though still over a hundred and fifty of them died

Yet with fifteen thousand of the enemy
Taking part in the assault
The end result was inevitable

As the enemy closed in,
Our men crowded together like cows
In a slaughtering pen,
Had no option but surrender
And thus were our comrades
Forced to stack their arms

The Germans,
Who had suffered greatly during the assault
Unleashed their anger on the prisoners

Many of them were stripped half-bare
And this in the frigid cold of late November

The poor souls were marched ignominiously
Back to New York
Where churches or the rotting hulks of ships
Would house them

Copyright 2001 by Johnny Blade


Unfortunately, that’s as far as I got with this epic poem
But I can tell you how the story ends;

Washington and his men were chased
All the way across New Jersey
By Lord Cornwallis

Unlike General Howe, who moved slowly,
Continually allowing the Americans to escape
Lord Cornwallis, just like General Patton two centuries later
Believed in crushing the enemy swiftly

It was, therefore, a very desperate chase
And a very near thing
But Washington and his men were safe
Once  they crossed the Delaware River

Still, they were in a bad way;
Morale, already low,
Plummeted with the onslaught of winter
And many enlistments were due to expire at the end of the year

Even worse, Washington was being undermined
By Major Charles Lee
The second in command
Of the Continental Army

Figuring the war was all but won,
The British and their German allies
Settled down in their New Jersey garrisons

It was on Christmas eve
When Washington recrossed  the Delaware
And attacked Trenton,
Taking a thousand prisoners and the town
At the loss of only four men

Although the war would drag on
For another seven years,
It was this turn of events
Which gave the revolutionaries
The hope which sustained them
Through the difficult times ahead


Another thing I should mention
Is that many of the Americans
Had wanted to abandon New York
And then burn it
So that the British couldn’t use it as a base

Congress wouldn’t allow that,
Yet during the battle,
Suspicious fires were set
Which burned a large portion of the city down

 

 

Kunta Kinte’s Dream


Imagine that Kunta Kinte is in his slave hut
When he hears the sound of a beating drum
And he knows that it’s a signal
For an uprising or an escape attempt

Well here goes;

Brave Mandinka Warriors
You are not alone
The village of Juffure
Was also our home

We, too, were brought in the great canoe
From our lands across the sea
We have prayed almighty Allah
Let him grant us victory

Hear the beat of the drum and gather
For did we not once dance together friend around the fire

We have prayed and fasted
Scorned the pig meat served us by the Toobob
On their tin plate
For though we have been brought here
To serve as slaves

Still we must defy the Toobob
Who with his puny whip and chain
Has designs to hold us
In these dark huts beside his house

Rise now and we shall fight these pagan beasts
Who would have us toil their fields

Rise now and we shall become one again
For we have stolen weapons
And studied well his weakness

We gather now
In this darkened hour
With him bundled against the cold
 
We’ll march through mud and snow
And by morning fall upon him
In all our numbers
Using his own weapons against him

Follow now then
The beat of the drum
But be weary to bring your friend along
For the man who feels himself unclear
Will surely betray us to his master
Out of fear

Copyright 1991 by Johnny Blade

 

 

Conquistadors

It was a most glorious day
When Columbus
First sailed from Spain

For a new world was soon discovered
Far, far away across the mighty sea

An entire new land filled with vast riches;
-an entire score of delicious fruits
which our tongues had never tasted
-and untold acres of virgin land
which until now had gone wasted

Great Glory be to God!!
For these lands were even rich in gold!!

Without hesitation we staked our claim
That these lands all belonged
To our King of Spain

Entire fleets of Galleons were soon outfitted
Our every port a swarm of bustle
Men scrambling to enlist
In spite of the hazards which surely lay ahead

It was a long, often deadly ocean voyage
Yet once ashore, we journeyed inland without fear
Even though these lands were cloaked in darkness
For the natives were dark-skinned devils
So savage that they even wore animal skins!!

We steeled our resolve
For we were morally bound to save them

And thus, with God above as a guide
And his son at our side
We traveled amongst their various tribes
Embracing these lowly pagans with the Lord’s religion
And enslaving natives
To build great missions

Some fled or resisted
Their traps well hidden
Their wells doused with poison

In skirmish we were successful
They hightailed into shadows
Watching, waiting,
Their numbers always gaining

We’d been marching through woodland
In an orderly column

Suddenly savages sprung up all around us
They caught us in the open
And then cut us down

Wounded King Peronakin,
His horse shot from under him,
He lay on the ground dying of wounds

Their marksmen shot us to pieces
Before we could retrieve him
Then slipped away
The field filled with dead and dying
Our king lying on his death bed


Sweeping out of the woods
They sliced us to shreds
Then fell back to the mountains
To ambush again

Burning bridges,
Destroying roads
Poisoning our wells and water holes

We couldn’t even tell friend from foe
For those in battle wore no colors
And many of our “friends”
Proved only actors
Burning our churches
When our backs were turned

We were forced to use torture, interrogation
Meanwhile I did some thinking of my own

These natives we were fighting-
All they wanted was their freedom
And what’s so bad about their own religion?

They eat wild mushrooms
But in moderation

Respecting and loving one another and nature;

Would it be that we could be so pure

But as I am wise
I must also be quiet
The watching eyes, they are upon us

“Does thou doubt our mission a holy one?”
The bishop’s grin was evil, twisted.
I must better hide my expressions
We’re strangled by inquisition

Copyright 1987 by Johnny Blade

 

 

Danielle

This poem is about an erotic dancer
Who is nervous because it’s her first day on the job;


I was wearing a white,
One piece bathing suit
With a red belt secured tight around my waist

The boots I had on were pink, leather
And caressed my legs
To just above the knee

Everyone I had asked
Had thought they were too dangerous
But I couldn’t have cared less
I loved to be caressed

At the moment
I was taking a last nervous look at myself
In the full length mirror

Though I was generally pleased
With what I saw
Still my suit was a size too small

Even though it was sure to end up stretched
I pulled it up till it covered my breasts

It felt as though
It’s straps would break
Yet after a struggle
I had them secured

The suit was sure to leave marks in my shoulders                                                       Still I couldn’t have cared

I just loved the snug fit
And the feel of pleasure
As it hugged my derriere
Far outweighed the pain
Of feeling restrained

Masochistic I may be
Yet for now I’m free, unbounded
And full of energy

My golden locks falling past my belt
Had vibrance and bounce
As I danced about
Playfully rehearsing my moves
In front of the mirror

When at last I felt ready
To put on a show
I spun a half-circle on my heels
And headed for the hallway

My customers were in the recreation room
And I couldn’t afford to keep them waiting


I took a deep, uneasy breath
Outside the door
My hand trembling
As I turned the knob

I was tense
And made anything but a grand entrance
As I strolled into the room

Two of my customers
Didn’t even bother
To look up from their game of pool

I shrugged off their absorbed self-interest
And turned my attention
To the other pair of men instead

They too were wearing suits
And were seated on the far end of the room
On a sofa

I was pleasantly surprised
When I realized they were so handsome

At most they were only a year or two older than me
And that made me all the more eager to please

I wanted to kick up my heels
And prance across the room
Like a Vegas showgirl
But instead, I settled for a lazy stroll

Even still, they thought I was sexy
I could see it clearly in their eyes
-the way they focused on me
As if I were on parade

I did my best to play the part

Placing my hands firmly against my swaying hips
I ran my tongue in a wide arch
Across my upper lip

In no time,
Having crossed the room,
I stood before them

Suddenly however, I was unsure of what to do

Every erotic dancer has to start somewhere
Myself, I had never put on a show
For a man before
And was feeling insecure

Just then I noticed
That the most handsome of the two men
Was about to fire up a joint

A hit of pot always helped me to relax
And to release my inhibitions
So naturally I sat myself down
In the man’s lap
When he offered me a hit

Copyright 1991 by Johnny Blade

 

 


Caravans

The history of my people
Remains largely a puzzle
I only know of how we began
As just another warlike clan
Struggling for our survival
In an arid land

Far too weak to contest our neighbors
We were helpless as they pushed us ever closer
Towards a desolate and fiery desert

Here at the edge of this burning abyss,
The hellish border of our lands
We braced ourselves for our final annihilation
Apparently so close at hand

Unless something drastic was done
We would surely be slaughtered
Already our enemies were gathered for the kill

In this desperate, darkened  hour
Our leaders came to their fateful decision;
We would turn to fight
But only to buy precious time,
Then with hurriedly gathered supplies
We would set out across the scorching sands

There was an obvious problem with the plan;
The hellish and inhospitable desert abyss
Would surely not take all of us
Only the strongest would have any chance of surviving at all

We knew of only a single small oasis
Which had a well
Which was nearly out of water.
We knew of no other

From there we could only set out blindly
Hoping to find a haven
Deep within the wasteland

We knew how heavily the odds weighed against us;
In the past we had sent out scouts
With much the same mission,
Few of whom were ever heard from again

It was obvious we’d have to abandon our children
Our elderly, as well as anyone else
Who might be considered a burden

We could only pray that our enemies would adopt them
Instead of slaughtering them

Our leaders themselves would decide
Who was fit to make the journey,
Everyone else would have to be left behind

It was only the implacable strength of these leaders
Who guided us through this horrible time
Their cruel and harsh orders kept us in line
Leaving no room for dissention

Although it was painful, this forced desertion of our loved ones
The wisdom of our leaders was later clear to see
When we were faltering under the blazing sun
Wondering if we could still push on
With all our camels gone


Sprawled out beneath our tents
We tried to rest
But there was no escaping the horrible heat of the day
Which drained what little remained of our energy

Traveling from late afternoon
Till early morning
We at first allowed our stragglers to lag behind

Then it began to prey on our minds-
The horrible deaths these poor souls would suffer
All alone without shelter,
Exposed to the murderous sun

This proved too much for us to bear
And so we posted soldiers
To travel behind us
To kill these stragglers out of kindness

Soon the sorrow we felt for the dead
Turned gradually to envy
As our ordeal dragged on and on

Almost a whole month now
We’ve traveled from dusk to dawn
Of every single day
And yet as we gaze out on the horizon
We’re greeted with the same monotonous view
Of ever stretching sand dunes

Copyright 1996 by Johnny Blade

 

 


Kunta Kinte’s Dream (prologue)

We stuck close to the overflowing banks of a stream
Which had been transformed this winter
Into a gushing river

This raging torrent
Cut us off fully
From the thick forest on the other side,
But for now at least
We had no reason to hide

It was true that we could have traveled
Concealed in the brush
But that would have greatly slowed us down

Besides, we were near enough to our destination now.

Just to be sure that all was clear
I glanced over my left shoulder
But was greeted by the same view as before-
Of fields covered in a layer of powdered snow
And flanked by the post road

I blinked and scanned once again
The entire length of the road
My squinted eyes half closed,
But there was no denying it
The road was deserted

I heaved a sigh of relaxed celebration
For though we had been traveling
The better part of an hour
We were as yet undetected
And were just five minutes from our objective


When the rough, uneven ground
Beneath our horses hooves turned smooth
I knew, though there was no fence,
Or crops growing in this deadly winter
That it was indeed a farm that we had entered

As I once again
Glanced over toward the post road
I could see, framed in the mistled branches of the willow trees,
One of the great estate houses of our enemy

In marked contrast to this gallant mansion                   
Were the crude huts
Parked at either side

Although my heart yearned pity
For those who were therein forced to reside,
I could appreciate
For at least tonight
Their lack of adequate shelter
               
For while their masters slept soundly                                                   
And secure from the cold
These slaves were likely to be awakened
By the sound of our beating drum

Our desperate tribal war cry
Urging them to rise

It’s beat would likely be a familiar one
To a certain brave African
Who had only recently
Become a fixture on this plantation

I had followed him here
Along with his master
Some three months ago
From the auction where he’d been sold

I can still recall his savage expression
As he was pulled about on his chain
And had no doubt
That he longed to be free again

Such is the way of these warriors,
These newcomers to the continent
Just arriving on their slave ships

They were easy to distinguish from the others-
These freeborn

Having only recently
Felt the bonds of slavery,
They were far less likely
To be submissive

Not only were they slower
To see to the demands of their overseers
But they were far more likely to flee

It was for this reason
That we had made our journey
For though a lone slave,
Unfamiliar with his surroundings
Would likely suffer
In his escape attempts,
Surely he would stand a far greater chance
If allied with a small rag-tag army


In recent weeks
I had made a careful reconnaissance of the surrounding area
Aided of course by the light color of my skin

Since it was not my intention
To be caught unprepared
I had drawn up maps in my mind
Of all the paths which were fit to travel upon

I had even gone so as to hide a raft beside the river
So that we might wash away our scent
As we escaped

Obviously, no matter how well our plans were laid
There would still be problems
Thus we were nervous with anticipation
As we beat our drum

We were even more cautious
When a trio of dim figures gathered about
The dark huts in the distance

Obviously, though we hadn’t intended,
We had attracted more than the african’s attention

In spite of their desperate longings to be free
We still viewed domesticated slaves as potential enemies

They knew well the dangers of escape
And most often weren’t willing to take the risk

Worse yet, they were likely to inform their masters
If any of their neighbors were to attempt an escape

They could hardly be blamed
For wanting to save themselves the lash
But they were still dangerous

We kept our eyes glued on the negroes
But none made a move


Kunta Kinte’s Dream (reprise)

Brave Mandinka Warriors
You are not alone
The village of Juffure
Was also our home

We, too, were brought in the great canoe
From our lands across the sea
We have prayed almighty Allah
Let him grant us victory

Hear the beat of the drum and gather
For did we not once dance together friend around the fire

We have prayed and fasted
Scorned the pig meat served us by the Toobob
On their tin plate
For though we have been brought here
To serve as slaves

Still we must defy the Toobob
Who with his puny whip and chain
Has designs to hold us
In these dark huts beside his house

Rise now and we shall fight these pagan beasts
Who would have us toil their fields

Rise now and we shall become one again
For we have stolen weapons
And studied well his weakness

We gather now
In this darkened hour
With him bundled against the cold
 
We’ll march through mud and snow
And by morning fall upon him
In all our numbers
Using his own weapons against him

Follow now then
The beat of the drum
But be weary to bring your friend along
For the man who feels himself unclear
Will surely betray us to his master
Out of fear

Copyright 1991 by Johnny Blade

 

 

A Desperate Last Stand

No quarter, either side
Nowhere to run
Nowhere to hide
We’re trapped, surrounded
Perched on a mountainside

Caught in the deadly grip
Of winter and hunger
We warmed ourselves by cooking dead comrades

Slimy, wormy tissue
It squirmed down my throat as I swallowed
I held back my distaste
We’d all need strength for the breakout attempt


The sky bloody red
The sun already set
We prepare for battle
Last will and testament

As arrows pierce our ranks
We charge on
Rolling dice with death

 I could feel the dragon’s breath

We were so close
We could almost spear the enemy
Then, suddenly, the ground gave way

“Get back, it’s a trap”
The warning came too late
And we were seared by the flames

Branch covered, oil drenched pits
Just waiting to be torched
Spread out in front of their trench
The rotten stench of death abounds

Limbs, amputations;
They litter the ground

Exhausted, dispirited
I make my escape
Past the head of our leader
Impaled on a stake

Copyright 1987 by Johnny Blade

 

 

Blitzkrieg

Artillery shelling
Signals the beginning
Screaming shells rip up the ground

Machine guns afire
The snipping of barbed wire
Infantry’s prowling around

Stormtroopers landing
Take bridges intact
So rivers won’t halt
The deadly armored attack

Towns are laid waste
And ground planes are strafed
As winged beasts descend from the sky

You will cry
There is no where to run
You will die
Hitler’s having fun

Copyright 1987 by Johnny Blade

Image
 

Footer

site  zoomshare