Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Sunday, December 18, 2016
Rollcall / For all we know
the scholars who learned into junkies
the bigots begged to be cops
the people who watched from the post office
those loud cowards who fought on stages their tender parade unfists so bloodless
the day workers who stay for sale
the ones who you sold mama they pay you yet? Net netherwold
R E P A R A T I O N S
one repossessed corvette at a time Rahsaan's One Ton heckling climbers (social kind) off blue minor
lost men rolling in the mud miners blacker birds/ agents/ fat pillars Algerias of the will
desert men rolling on the water tongues lobbed out as dogs' soft bob of black sails
his atlanta now Atlantis-proud daughters binding plastic claws to their fingers and slabs of lotion as coarse as seafoam
cream and moans cream and only you atonal newday homeland se cure ity cured already parched flesh and salt
If you can imagine fleeing to Birmingham
then I can clothe that pregnant mannequin
and my role was to bring the press down, so that the day would not pass unnoticed flash
Daddy's distant eyes the way he hurled that lawnmower into oj's yard paid off the nervous bystanders , went back to his nap
from time to time , some of our more unruly ancestors were found floating face down
there is no refuge from confession but suicide , and suicide is confession
This is a red november
this is no place to sleep
with the liars who bled november
heaping salt into our wounds
the afternoon swooners shuffling across prison yards looking for anything to lift
their penniless women, free at last/ hissing whore hymns at the catch-all sun not him not him neither damned are the
trespassers fixing to hunt our ledge
Friday, December 16, 2016
Everything came from sound (light) and it's going back there
That's the only way you're able to store your genetic information
In between two pillars of light and carbon picture a record spinning with your dad's black face all up in the whirlwind making you a person, a sound a wedge of noun / Amun / a few minutes of leverage in a dark room and the man could make anything scream with rhythm : light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light Atkin's ass kinless niggas
plotting your destruction
like
light
like
light
ice
spun
dark in the carburetor bard in the flame be our sun
In between two pillars of light and carbon picture a record spinning with your dad's black face all up in the whirlwind making you a person, a sound a wedge of noun / Amun / a few minutes of leverage in a dark room and the man could make anything scream with rhythm : light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light carbon light Atkin's ass kinless niggas
plotting your destruction
like
light
like
light
ice
spun
dark in the carburetor bard in the flame be our sun
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Monday, December 12, 2016
Sunday, December 11, 2016
Storefront Window
I do revere and love the image I keep learning not to want. How do I? Walking by a price tag that reads: this radical loneliness. Have I been invaded for clues into it? Refuse what’s been refused to you. Such that freedom to be a slave is luminous. Emitting light without heat, total efficiency, its gesture being the first flesh computer peddling quecards in the marketplace between exaltation and shame, I let myself derange for a while. Just long enough to play auction block with the bargain shoppers. The first goal of a freed slave is to purchase his children. What if they don’t wanna come. As if self-realization is a threat. As if they are never hungry. Knowing : the subject who was never here can never truly disappear only haunt.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Is this some kinda hustle?
So our god is an all consuming fire and we are its embers burdening the sweet dog's mouth?
Black dna has been changing rapidly since the 90s, and we are evolving?
You've got to have a hellava ego to think that you are harming the planet
the people who study the ancient mysteries know that the earth is heating up to save us and language is a lazy hustler
My words are gonna click again, and scoff and slur into Birdie Africa cohesive again gripping the gnarled root of no more winter and you, baby shy and naked in the yard living on the borrowed sugar of a wrong idea will butter the dragon's mouth We are diamond people now, we who have gone through the milling process of utter hell and come out telling the tiny horse how to escape from time
Sunday, December 4, 2016
Saturday, December 3, 2016
Resurrection / Black Supremacy (1)
The wind blew a chain from spectacle to bait and tackle / are you offended/ Hi(gh), Black you didn't see how that was god's hand coming in to save us? Before the crack addiction and the sex addiction and predilection to sterile suburban forms of barely joy before you became terrified and artless and called that growing up growing into the lie inside you we made a life , I , unlimited vessel, came back to life with the matted brevity of our need How does a woman forgive her partner in genocide / lightly like a soft fake smile on the wobbly edge of well-being or never bye bye blackbird / or never / Howler / how I've become , come to be, all that I've carried run from hung some embryo photo somewhere unsung in the mind that now knows how to chant
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Star Killing
Fight : the gridded spotlight bleach blond weave (again?) miss piggy looking muppet type clutches Lee Morgan cement Sluggish fame machines everywhere touch denial and it's a mall spilling foam made of snow on Los Angeles, say the word bleach with me like leisure, like victorian sleeves ripped in solidarity with Fidel : dare a hero to be a killer for justice, for just surviving cointelpro / leave Lee's blood flowing slow brass levees in the street, Fidel strutting up the heavens. as the bleached sugar rolls into Havana, leave him to teach the hunt to sunny mutants, but bring his name inside To all the women who struggle for a better world, who know revolution is personal and wash and fold the guillitine into the morning coffee like good liars Nobody's messiah is nervous bitter or allegorical AD as Assata crosses the Jersey turnpike , her gun arm steady around american coffin flowers : sweet rebirth , sweet beneath its destiny, marks the profound generosity of decay
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