Friday, July 31, 2015

Profound Encounter with the United States of America


The love, being cruel, is also  merciful      ( Highly Recommended) 

                                                            And all the burdens shift to the skin     with an altruistic glow

I'll seethe here with jealousy,   he promised    

I'll act greedy  but mean ecstasy  is neither gentle nor folded into me like the cruelty I use to reach  it  

Pleasure  is cruel  too  (attainable/shifty   (Highly abused for every green night   a fugitive   isolates some striking blues  as arousal ( Blacked-Eyed Susan whose eyes are blue til Jim comes in, the new American  

and hedonism mistaken for righteousness is a one word attitude we don't have a word to, but people, all the so called leaders from MLK to your soul ... praise the hedonist!   

And when you exaggerated  you lured   his laughter  into Cadillac Records   where the mythic   lowness of black  is getting trapped  in   that  hope    exactly   

                                                        how 

                                                       we used yesterday  like a famous favor  and promised her  perms and cadences        greeted with a pack of cigarettes and photograph of John Wayne on Ellis Island, Jamestown,    we realized kill or be  killed  and it is all very lively from then on   and unreasonable   and we will 

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Blacks have the most fun

Monday, July 27, 2015

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Will Hollywood let negroes make love

Something utter and wordless work us up to the gutted frenzy. Get out of the martyr, black psyche, or I will light you up. Tuff threats are trending like the new sweatshop chucks of thicker souls and swollen metaphors. Where was somebody. Where was her man. Luck, the loa, the lantern of obvious turns. The exact pivot of this shit right here. Like for water I crave an iconic infinity/ photograph of Betty Shabazz and Malcolm, together, lovingly, to be etched in our hearts as far as Sandra Bland and Part Cherokee. Like Spike Lee craved the scene of Malcolm fucking that white woman in an utter way, the reversal arousal or the arousal of reversal or how one man I used to almost know, while married to a black woman back in the states, got high and rented a white prostitute in Belgium.  Maybe none of it was from skin/running. Where to? Numbing.  I know my consciousness is too high for judgment but whenever I try to force it I come into this sin like saddles and whips and the bent lipped daisies in Clay's deliverance, and I  grip the bars of the jailcell my father died in looking past him for a carnival where we might mercy around the ferris wheel of destiny with tambourines and clean shins, mercy mercy me / him,  our chains gleaming like rainy/ Ma Rainy teeth, in our chains, our range, our pretense, our ability to fake death in order to escape reason, our will's Overman and treason, had we considered any of them accomplices on the hit list of listlessly spinning souls. Whatever.  Mineral Animals told to toil as lamb. And the scroll minded mannerisms of blind griots who can strut speeches past terror as rap sheet amnesia leaping up churchgoer parody leads us to why we marry white dna witness every betrayal on both sides as a betrayal of self. You were shown. And you shown. And shone.  Sho 'nuff.  As romance plans its debut in torment and then has second suntan-tender thoughts and tantrums of the office piano we sold for dope in their fantasy we play the needed damsel hugging needles and needless of no one.  For Clyde Ross, Sandra Bland, Albert Ayler, Alberta Williams King, ...   May a lost god, Damballa, rest or save us, against the love we intend against our lost white children, Black, Dada Nihilismus.


Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Drivers. Riders, and. Men of Letters.

The Night is Alright ™

Its tenacious obviousness  / The same primal scene had migrated      patient migration my savior  is  late     and   black   wears amber tinted glasses to act out the blue light  knows  the electroluminescence  of past fact  is not post   fact

This is how we became black ™

Its tenacious obviousness

Can we just figure out what we want to do before we try to figure out what to call it

I say techniques of ecstasy ,   you say always

And to temper the triumphalist tone with a hue the recognizes the complexities of transformation

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Forget the right things

And a collection of villages going back centuries springs forth in the will

And at first when you're 12 and the singers are artifacts babbling their surplus of sadhappy fiction  later   it all becomes  cap in his ass   cap in  his ass    sacred wicked baptist hero love  you so   like the nearly almost too slow love of      a redeemed sinner with gangster proclivities and  can chant anything into peak spells

with a joy that cuts so deep it's qualitatively different than pleasure

quit playin / don't  interrupt   me    

I want  us to have new conversations  with Kings

Fennel Bitter
wormwood
tea tree oil
nutmeg
mixed in walnut oil

nah like potion  but not rubbed in to the grown in feet  of any dancer     either    we  remembering
 

Friday, July 17, 2015

Thursday, July 16, 2015

A woman who is not interrupted

I.  Peddling the melted ice  of her eyes she had pacified life  so well   Yesterday I will be tragic   now   triumphant   and     bell them together   like     mummy     in the clean  air of nowhere

Where is the air still clean ?   Where!  Where are wives  still  lovers   and parodies   more perverse  than the natural   order     order      is also  grotesque    like   together    forever     for where is forever  in the jester's   articulation  of now     and   there   we  were  



II. Havoc is vanity  and chaos  is vanity       we want more time with the child in ourselves  and to cross  back and forth between young and ageless     Did Bill Cosby really rape all those women?        

Don't interrupt me.


III. Cake     cake cake cake cake   cake       how a word that outlasts its meaning becomes scenic  / music       a bowl   of stone fruit  in   photo        of   you       without black beauty  there's nothing prince charming can do   



Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Monday, July 13, 2015

Friday, July 10, 2015

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Angel Engine

He would dig somewhere in a flat field in a large grove of oranges  and come up the torn up information   as civil suits   as tender warnings   against    his   truth,  barbiturates, crispy cucumbers on a bed of heirlooms     soon   rape becomes someone's fairy tale   or   maybe we covet terror   well

Bill Cosby is a myth too    
A double cross
A double nigga
This suits us

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Monday, July 6, 2015

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Diminuendo and crescendo in blue

And when the barrel  lifts its coil   from   the mouth  of the toy   trumpet    heiress  to  her father's   love    oh  love oh   careless    love      where   were    you      then          andalusian   blood of henchmen     where    were   you     when   papa   coughed   up   his heart   in the  jail  cell and still refused   to stop   singing        praise  songs      Plain Gold Ring   on his finger  he wore    Paradise disorder



Trauma   is  disgusting    but     euphoria   is boring      

Every  morning   a new manifesto  on how niggas   ain't   shit   unfolds  in   the  myth  or honor   killings          

Dandelion Root and Leaf
Juniper Berry
Stinging Nettle
Oatstraw
Red Clover

Your heart pumps   you don't think about it
White Oak Bark
Butcher's Broom
Cornsilk
Marshmallow


Seven black churches on fire in our 33rd June
I swore the swoon was adoration but it could have been fear,  back then

Anything is endless   in   blue        and  who   forgets the    pledges     just to stand there with his fist pressed to his  chest        and rescue     and rescue