Lyrics

Brathwaite's reading of this poem can be heard on SoundCloud, via the audio player (above right), or by opening this annotation Caliban1Ninety-five per cent of my people poor ninety-five per cent of my people black ninety-five per cent of my people dead you have heard it all before O Leviticus O Jeremiah O Jean-Paul Sartre and now I see that these modern palaces have grown out of the soil, out of the bad habits of their crippled owners the Chrysler stirs but does not produce cotton the Jupiter purrs but does not produce bread out of the living stone, out of the living bone of coral, these dead towers; out of the coney islands of our mind- less architects, this death of sons, of songs, of sunshine; out of this dearth of coo ru coos, home- less pigeons, this perturbation that does not signal health. In Havana that morning, as every morning, the police toured the gambling houses wearing their dark glasses and collected tribute; salute blackjack, salute backgammon, salute the one-armed bandit Vieux Fort and Andros Island, the Isle of Pines; the morals squadron fleeced the whores Mary and Mary Magdalene; newspapers spoke of Wall Street and the social set who was with who, what medals did the Consulate's Assistant wear. The sky was cloudy, a strong breeze; maximum temperature eighty-two degrees. It was December second, nineteen fifty-six. It was the first of August eighteen thirty-eight. It was the twelfth October fourteen ninety-two. How many bangs how many revolutions? 2And Ban Ban Cal- iban like to play pan at the Car- nival; pran- cing up to the lim- bo silence down down down so the god won't drown him down down down to the is- land town down down down and the dark- ness fall- ing; eyes shut tight and the whip light crawl- ing round the ship where his free- dom drown down down down to the is- land town. Ban Ban Cal- iban like to play pan at the Car- nival; dip- ping down and the black gods call- ing, back he falls through the water's cries down down down where the music hides him down down down where the si- lence lies. 3And limbo stick is the silence in front of me limbo limbo limbo like me limbo limbo like me long dark night is the silence in front of me limbo limbo like me stick hit sound and the ship like it ready stick hit sound and the dark still steady limbo limbo like me long dark deck and the water surrounding me long dark deck and the silence is over me limbo limbo like me stick is the whip and the dark deck is slavery stick is the whip and the dark deck is slavery limbo limbo like me drum stick knock and the darkness is over me knees spread wide and the water is hiding me limbo limbo like me knees spread wide and the dark ground is under me down down down and the drummer is calling me limbo limbo like me sun coming up and the drummers are praising me out of the dark and the dumb gods are raising me up up up and the music is saving me hot slow step on the burning ground.