Malvina: A Pioneer for Change

In the 1950’s & 1960’s a boom of Folk-Singers and protest music began to dominate the psyche of an America.
The U.S. began to drift away from the social norms of the prior decades with changing views on what was considered politically correct.
From the ashes of what singers such as Woody Guthrie & Pete Seeger came many great singers that got some due in their lifetime.
The obvious being Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Janis Ian, Leonard Cohen, & Phil Ochs being a few examples.
However, the most out of left-field example of a surge in political change came a woman already in her elder years.
She was born in 1900 to Jewish Immigrants that preached Socialism throughout her life. Malvina Reynolds.
Malvina, may have not many hits, or even close to it, but she sung about Vietnam, she sung about answers to political heresies, she sung about assassinations, and she sung about feminism.
She began seriously writing in her late 40’s, and soon began performing around the world and writing until her death in her late 70’s in 1978 (when she still had concert dates upcoming)
For her politically charged lyrics I fully suggest someone to go to www.MalvinaReynolds.com and explore her lyrics & poetry, and read about the life of this remarkable woman. Listen to her songs such as “Little Boxes” “What’s Going on Down Here” and “What Have They Done to the Rain?” being some of my favorites, and more known songs.
Here is a poem I wrote about Malvina (loosely based):

Malvina

All of the gypsies danced in the graveyards,
and sung protest songs to the daisies.
The petals chanting Malvina
“Revolt in Folk, Malvina”

Your White hair has lived many seasons,
a woman of many wars, seen many deaths
Like the Winter warning the evils of March.

To a street you sing to the homeless, to the sad
You run out the ruin of brainwash propaganda
send the pimps crying over their lost moneys
you sing sweetly to a hobo’s heart.
to all the broken spirits drowning in the strangers of night.
in infected light.

May the blessed be in this pine box of feathers.
In these cyanide apples we reach for you, Malvina.
Tell us which trenches we can hide, to crawl away from the soot.
In the dynasty of coalmines.
Our clothes of rosy mud with breath of the crawdaddies,
whispering in army camouflage.
They love their kisses of the bullet winds,
that blow through this Vietnam.

We are all digging in the dirt,
and can’t wash the death from our fingernails.
Clouds that grow inside of them,
and sing one of your famous canary hymns.
mmmm…mmmm….mmmm…Malvina

Watch the snow pepper down,
and burn at our tear ducts
Our clarity whips and watch –
these devils preside in the caves
And they talk like a symphonic Nazi
Dragging freedom on the skin of his calloused feet.
In the cocaine webs pricking at the veins in his eyes.
they will hemorrhage at the stroke of your violin.

Let’s wash out this internal sepsis.
These war crime Valentine’s days.
Watching hippies falling to the sun.
Our heroes are the songs in your voice.
Washed out our glory…
They washed out our glory.
Can we grow as humans while crackling in the campfires?

The hum
the hums of your wonder
the hums of the caged birds
Many years sitting in depression’s wings
You finally learned to fly,
as you taught the progressions of Eve.

We discovered each raindrop could be your own.

Malvina, we failed your years.
You were misplaced in a world that needed your transitions.