CONVERSATIONS IN HEAVEN by William Fredrick Cooper
I received this poem in an email forward from my friend J'me and
thought I'd share. It's nice (Tiffany)
As the Love Unlimited Orchestra, headed by Barry White, grooved to 'Satin Soul', suddenly, the arrangement screeched to a halt.
Something just wasn't right. Feeling disenchanted with the sound, perhaps taking his expertise for granted, the man that had so much to give needed more.
"I think we practiced this enough," the Maestro.
Marvin Gaye, echoing the sentiment, suggested something political.
"I love the way you made my jam Inner City Blues, jump," he shouted. "Let's run through that again."
"Nah, Sugar," a statuesque female uttered. "it's my time baby." The cream colored queen, with happiness sparkling in her eyes, strutted confidently to the front of the band. This woman, named Phyllis, finally found the love she never recieved on Earth from the Lord thirteen years ago, and was eager to sing its praises whenever the opportunity arose.
"Chill, Sister Hyman," Luther Vandross said. "Now you know that between you and me, girl, we got that love thing covered. The joy and pain of it all, the whole gamut. We need something fresh."
Johnny Griffin, the tenor saxophone genius known as the Little Giant, slapped hi-fives with his bee-bopping brother Miles Davis.
"Yeah, man," he concurred. Having recently arrived from France last month, he too felt the band needed an infusion of style. "We need a bad mutha."
James Brown and Gerald Levert, exchanging puzzled looks, couldn't for the life of them think of who to summon.
Suddenly barging in the heavenly auditorium was Redd Foxx, Robin Harris and Richard Pryor, arguing about the new addition to their Kings Of Comedy Tour.
"Ya big Dummy," Fred Sanford screamed. "We could use Bernie up here. He had me in stitches with his Def Jam routines."
Richard Pryor disagreed. "Nigga, Mac done got Cosby on us with that television show. He got all commercial on us.. He don't talk about f**** enough. All comedians talk about f*****. When the president was making speeches, we talked about f*****. Even the coolness of women who like it as much as we do. I remember the Playboy bunny..."
"Nobody's talking about f**** up in here, so shut up, ya test-tube baby!" Leave it to Robin Harris to Bring da pain. "Look at you with your cornrows, Richard. They tied so tight, that I bet you sleep with your eyes open. You had a T.V. show once too." Ever the bold one, Robin climbed up the stage stairs and grabbed Phyllis Hyman's hand.
"Those aren't press-ons," he announced.
Phyllis slapped his hand hand away.
"Shut-your mouth," she said, barely concealing her laughter.
At that instant, the whole room got silent. Humor and harmony becoming one, Comedy and composition congregating in a meeting of minds, Richard and Barry looked at each other, and smiled. Luther and Redd Foxx lowered the heads for a minute, then lifted them. Tears mixed with joy and pain ran a race to their chins. Gerald, Johnny and Miles gave each other skin, then hugged.
Barry White shook his head...
"Let's call Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes. We sure could use em, up in here." he suggested.
Everyone agreed.
"Sho Ya' right," They all shouted in unison.
"Cool," was all brotha Miles stated. "Cool."
Will's Thought: We lost to in the physical spirit. But the remain in the laughter shared, and the head nod of a cool melody. Give Praise to the journey, as they will give God so much fun in their own special ways. Rest in Peace, Bernie. God Bless You, Issac. Y'all were some bad mutha....It's Okay, Ya'll can say it.
SHUT YO MOUTH!
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