Kanye in fox fur at the urinal
It’s been social and inuendoless to memorize those vulgar gospels in cotton hoodies, from bangladesh’s best sweatshops to Alameda and 7th, we’ve touched a road. Lifted. Reality gypsy, no pictures. It’s been, pivotal, me and you baby as the fog hits your will, and climbing some drastic canyon this early, this landless, this rich to learn Kanye West is in debt, broken, mentally ill, token evolution heroic demon no one can count the millions of him hanging from sudden trees in your misleading history of a wish, believe that. Desperate, silly power. His debt is ecstatic. His outlandish mediocrity is excellence. His skin is wet like Jordan’s. His skin is will like yours. For sport, for style. We part with the word ‘new; for its arrogance. We part with the new for its arrogance. We part with you for your arrogance. Kanye West’s poverty is immaterial and arrogant, stylized, casual. He shares this with us, lavishly. No elegant despair except from the stage. We swear by it. We harvest it for (new) territory. It turns our prayers, literal. It disappears as fashion. Backlash, no longer being nobel. It disappears. Fear no longer being nobel. First it was cold, made a killing, sirens lingering, made the kid sing for his supper all over twitter and liberty and justice for all it’s been distracted
We (still) ship to prisons slips in the corner like a path somewhere Anthropology gets me, the discipline not the store Their children never stop running, they run all their lives. You wanted to see these people and run with them
It’s been good practice for the way
Jesus Saves
Stable men have found him too. Colonial principal princes/ demanding / let me be astounded too. Unruly too. Jesus pimps. One won’t do and two is not enough for him, too. I’ll mention numbers and you’ll picture whores. The word. It’s endlessly searching jury/mercy/she think she cute attitude. It’s boredom with denial. As our collective oppression becomes both more and less trivial, all of the rap albums are employing gospel hymns, praise songs, chants against their own flimsy benediction, these points of entry in the service of abject materialism disguised as suffering/ and the same themes apply we suffer in the risk of our temptation we lord over ourselves with morals rooted in a judaeo christian sense of guilt we are tempted to be niggas still / negus/ kings black love negated as suffering too and everyone’s mother dies a whore who loves you
bored with denial MLK’s mother
She is at the church piano playing a road hymn when she is shot down just like him
Jesus is that silence miraculous? Stevie Wonder is still alive
confusing sight and sound is that darkness miraculous radiant fugitive is it a Saturday witness giddy with useless information no matter how many arrest records we search the beauty is in their shame today, lately easy and paid (all niggas, all of us
After Mingus
