Monday, April 4, 2016

As yet incomprehensible

You woke the cancelled paradise  and it was   some hoods   in there with the Goody™ combs  stuck as moans    in     the play pony     goodness    you called    the pleasure   the understanding   and it answers    can   you imagine   the level of revulsion  that true understanding   is  constantly risking,  the  under emphasis   of risk   the  tripped will of diversion            even  when  blaming  envy     if you    can understand   why these people   hate   you from behind their smile suits, you  still hate yourself   and are useless   to the revolution    which   is useless to itself    just as

unknown ass patchwork muses    the acoustic condition  of shipwreck        or Bess entering the garden  with   flowers    in her hands     and the laziest answer is to throw a tantrum   about intentions

become ashamed as offensive    love  is a laziest   answer     and

                                    I feel like that man    at the piano     , my father, guns   strapped to his chest, he's somewhere  in Beverly Hills where he's   a black  man in 1970 just tryna   stack paper   and raise his family    when he decides     on safety    decides    he should be the one-man neighborhood watch   cause no body else  is as  strong     as beautiful     as  long      feared.    He knocks    on your door,   you're  a white man, he says   he's   here   to  keep you safe and protect your family from outsiders and hooligans,  semi-automatics strapped to his chest,  his bare  blue   chest  carved in resurrected diamonds ,  and who   again   are   you, mister  man    ,   who   again      I  feel nothing   like    him       If I'd  had my  way I'd have been   a  killer