Saturday, October 25, 2014

The best seat in the house

Everybody's dead, so they can say what's really on their minds

Rhyme you outta  jail in time   to steal your rhymes    

How they love to use dialectics in a way to make you feel things that are not true

Like reticence stretches into abandon on the skin of confidence or confident desperation       the difference

                between life and death is finally  coming into question,  in the most optimistic  way  the plague is finally    Immortality

Break for war

Break for epidemic

Break for race  card         I am   a woman       woman is the nigger of the world     break   into her    for    her         what forest   of motives   this    sure     thing      

Remember the time   when we fell in  love   /     break for Michael     Jackson

Jesse Jackson  is full of shit,      break   for him       in the break    for     satisfaction        happy cantaloupe   /  island   break    for nourishment              

Never give  a sucker and even   break       ever     even    in the break   for courtship

break for judgement     caught  you   a   case    break   for    winning       glove     as vague  as breaking   with   tradition      what does that bullshit   even     mean    /   break   for translation         you   put  it down    and I pick   it up again         by   the time          the  tongue      the miner's    silent   confession   breaks    for          someone's  mother         breaks   to  blame    her         to  point   somewhere     like    forever       and   break   it into   images   savages    salvaged       made up of the thoughts   you   made   up  of the vibrations  that were made into  you        is  to   make   up   infinite future          and    break    for   life      slave /  wife     correlation   breaks   for   massa's    rape      at   sundown  1700 and something   forsaken      and   someday  far   later     in an earlier  way      this  great    mind     violator   meeting  violated  in the middle    with a tender   smile   of  misrecognition  (oneness)  tilted  like     prey   and prayer    away   from the mercy  to call it   forward    all,      Haven't you heard?  

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Correspondence (5)

Summary: You know when you're watching a movie and you keep rewinding to the part before the hero is killed some billowing love scene or accidental  seance between  notions   of when  suspense is the most unreasonable    shield   all around   intermittent  acts of violence   / I really have to look at the world  from  inside their  heads      where shadows rotate and you can follow the time in shadows  /   shallow upsloped blindness of the blind  hero  saving everyone but himself  /  advanced    suicide  /  nobel  effort    ,    what is the afterlife       He can be evil   but you always like him           goodbye to sequences   but language  survives  them and we are born   teen   in the middle of a discourse  on motives   / and are not crushed   / and are not crushed      New habit  of reading  treaties where some abuse is reasonable     good stupid  people  getting married    fighting    wars /  all of us  

And I wanted to see what propaganda  does  to   the language   of us.  A fabulist's anatomy or stark distress, was it,  the pharaonic order of the jesters.   Does it become more elegant to snub  all  excess or does it begin to deflect   the  innocent extra in the background  there to make the scene    a home  within itself. Brightmoment. (echo) (echo with a difference) (Narcissus / trick or trick narcissus) More to say about morals  than   the morose way one line folds into pictures  of a whole community sorted by  the invention/fabrication of oneness. Otherness Blues. Ovanuss Ball. Negroes in vogue.  Prison Notebooks on the arm of a plush velvet sofa , phd students supple with theories that will  save the world  if only they were of the world. Can propaganda help us populate the other vision with no more scams  but  candid / some   dandy / some daddy     plath   ease  of reality   pretending to need a dream.  And   how will the icon fare  if he cannot  tapdance   when the amateur  assassin   saunters  in     to tell his story fast.    

Highlights: You know when you're watching a movie and you keep rewinding to the part before the hero is killed 
MLK was clutching a Newport  cigarette in one hand. His mistress was downstairs fixing her hair for dinner. Jesse Jackson and them were in the courtyard just beneath Martin's motel room balcony, allowing him to falcon for them, dressed like dandies  and value  systems   discussing  spirituals  and pigs   feet    all the doves   broke free   .   As the shot pierced his memory    he begged  one man to sing        him Stevie  Wonder   from  the future   sequence is over      please  tell your   story  fast    if you don't  it will come to   pass     In his breast pocket   a note about ritual   sacrifice   his witch  doctor's  advice  /  phone  number       someone kept it 

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Correspondence (4)


Let it be good to yourself

The exorcism  of Wu-tang  mountain    jam   jam jam jam    flow     elsewhere   woke up       in my   subtle   tokenism   with a casual  urge  to conquer  all sufferers    disguised as  ourselves

Masters  of running  clubs     nightclubs    private  temples      Booker Little  sound valves , apostles but

Nigga you still ain't mysterious      (I mean, abstract)     Massah  I mean    messiah   be mean to his own true style   just to get    a good trap   on the capital

So it was fun, to be in the future  

Inanimate dancer   some surly clouds  overhead like mammy robot arms /  O Oprah, what have you done

to the future,  what have you done to the suburbs     they're  underneath her  like   layer  cakes or tourists rubbing   a brass actor  buddha/ high speed dubbed to wu-tang   discussions  ,  what have you done    to the  rappers     distracted children    of  Japanese   immersion         gives    him the chills   when you     give  away   cars  


Ritual     In the keeping   of soul  in tact  there  are neurotic  repetitive   magics   that show up   as  disdain  for the outside   world      a hidden language   so busy it cannot communicate.  I think our double icons (devil/god/ cons)   are the purveyors  of that  speech     and their ritual   is to fall  victim  to  the  ambivalence  as proof   of the eternal  worthlessness   of  struggle.   Struggle   is just a mode of production    superior to carelessness   , inferior   to terror      maybe.    All is full of love this way, by a strange default we join under : transcendence.  The water of our tendencies.    And   the ritual  of checking  things   has its  own scene  in the  arkive.    To wake up craving images   above even oranges,   is   a large    hybrid    of  afterlife and unlearned righteousness.    It begins   feeling imperative  to   have   one  subject    to wake up  to (as)       and trust  it's  image in handcuffs   on the internet   /   to imagine Cornel West    has   a   personal    life   nothing  like the public   one   is crucial  to the survival  or ritual  
 in a land where the sun kills questions.