I woke up leaning on a soldier

Each man his own place 
Each flower in its place 
Each voice hung about me in the late evening 
Each face will come to me now
Or what it was, running through their flesh, all the wild people 
stalking their own winters   

Another secret

Who wants to know about the angst of a militant black monster?

When we took Sun Ra to the streets   people thought it was dance music      It had a beat    people didn't know it was supposed to be deep                Now they propped this blood  on the cover of Newsweek nigga  mona lisa   peeking out from under   his secret   love     as Dr. Martin Luther King Junior sits calmly with a letter opener protruding from his chest      Kiss my black     heart     yeah       it   has   a beat     it's  been chased   beaten  ridden  riddle   eyes        survived    the dance and the abstraction    kiss    that       bloody  speech    we     see Bill Cosby  running from  on a treadmill   in the distance     every   horizon   or   so   another  Moses    deposition        kiss    the   displaced forgiveness  we call gangster proclivities,  feeling   good  or    cause  I got like that      a    cold tally of   what terrible things     communication  can   do  

Of the rhythm changing

http://afrosonics.tumblr.com/post/131211022194/but-the-rhythm-i-dont-think-that-people-are

You can change, Blackman

behaving under your touch the way you wanted to. 

http://afrosonics.tumblr.com/post/131011565279/this-is-now-change-up-and-look-at-the-world-now

Democracy is Ubiquitous and Complete throughout the Land

Siiiiiiiike          

Just a bunch a reverent niggas trapped between the bounds of buildings  

I proclaim 

I declare   

Privacy is the only glamour

for my people, now which of my people,  I'm in several groups? 

I am not a secret 

to soothe the savage beast

I am not a secret   

I am no man's secret 

how to turn inevitabilities into choices  like the will  is with it   not  a secret     nor a crisis  nor this magazine  ice      internment       on our terms   starring 

The new subdued mature  Jimmy Hendrix        

afraid to approach the microphone  with his old time religion  boa       his body   searching for ma-at  

his name locked in lights 

as if he is the good secret  keeping us  in    fur    and   fright    (of freedom )  

                                                       I want a land where the   sun         don't        question  

                                                  him   or take his prints  or fiendish saturn      or Discipline 27 - II 

Them that's got shall have

http://afrosonics.tumblr.com/post/130542020334/tell-that-son-of-a-bitch-to-forget-it-yes-the