Category: Cher in Art & Literature (Page 8 of 8)

Cher in pasta: http://www.jasonmecier.com/bcher.html

“Cher and David Bowie Singing Every Song Ever Written” is the entry on Debbie Millman’s blog. When I first saw this on TV — on VH-1 during their afternoons of Cher love many years ago — I actually did a roll-on-the-floor laugh. It lasted a long time, that laugh did. It’s just that it’s like…yeah…every song ever written…in one medley! It’s Olympic in nature really.

I promise to you – wherever I am and whatever poem I’m reading from the canon of great poetry being composed even as we speak… if I come across a great poem or a crappy poem that mentions Cher, I will retype it out herein this blog…for you. Because I love you…that much.

It just so happens this is a brilliant poem by Diane Burns, a Native American poet (of Ojibwa and Chemehuevi descent) who passed away last year. Diane won the  Congressional Medal of Merit and attended Barnard College at Columbia University. She was a smart broad. 

Sure You Can Ask Me a Personal Question

How do you do?
      No, I am not Chinese.
No, not Spanish.
      No, I am American Indi-uh, Native American.
No, not from India.
      No, not Apache.
No, not Navajo.
      No, not Sioux.
No, we are not extinct.
      Yes, Indin.
Oh?
      So, that’s where you get those high cheekbones.
Your great grandmother, huh?
      An Indian Princess, huh?
Hair down to there?
      Let me guess, Cherokee?
Oh, so you’ve had an Indian friend?
      That close?
Oh, so you’ve had an Indian lover?
      That tight?
Oh, so you’ve had an Indian servant?
      That much?
Yeah, it was awful what you guys did to us.
      It’s real decent of you to apologize.
No, I don’t know where you can get peyote.
      No, I don’t know where you can get Navajo rugs real cheap.
I don’t know if anyone knows whether or not Cher is really Indian.
      No, I didn’t make it rain tonight.
Yeah. Uh-huh. Spirituality.
      Uh-huh. Yeah. Spirituality. Uh-huh. Mother
Earth. Yeah. Uh’huh. Uh-huh. Spirituality.
      No, I didn’t major in archery.
Yeah, a lot of us drink too much.
      Some of us can’t drink enough.
This ain’t no stoic look.
      This is my face.

The poem was transcribed from Songs From This Earth on Turtle’s Back edited by Joseph Bruchac. For more on Diane Burns: http://www.thevillager.com/villager_198/dianeburnsnative.html