The Slaves are Crazy

Decadent  with intention   and horsemen    sanity will be an omen when it comes

The broken fever      that lasts forever          will be an oath of participation    

And   the rebellious  heart would rather    be crazy than accomplice   

The slaves  are crazy     they   halve their   fists into these   knives turn the nave   

And the whole congregation  into tomorrow’s food    say massacre is sacred and  earlier you said this

    I mean  had the  tables turned       flipped over

I mean  if the    great paintings   of the holy   feasts we me  were Maafa you would  

witness      the clear luck   we crave beginning  in your erasure from   memory

And so    she went   on determined  to forget the    danger, onward, knives     for fingers

To  chop  the range   of crop like   a lobbyist I’ll   trade you this hallucinating    plant for first dibs

On   sabotage        

                    The sabot is a peasant  shoe (hear the show in the robot, the sad oath of signifiers)   and I’ll trade you for two show shoes in which I do  this switching and running through this forest it gets vivid  

 The sabot   is also a device that ensures the correct positioning of a bullet in the barrel of a gun    So to  come in   my shooting    shoes I will be   traded or killed by  you or running these    choices thrill me, throw me for       a loop? As in lasso I’m so   tied and up in these choices I look   like a pretty number 8 don’t I look   infinite innit?

The   sabot  is also  a box from     which casino  cards are dealt

The  common thread   between these objects   arrives at the walking     loudly that makes the intended meaning     of sabotage and the slaves are crazy      we thank your fake god and walk as loud   as possible in our crowded wooden clogs in    gunning gambling feet you leave Maafa no choice       but sabotage which is suddenly a feasting festive word       for black progress for a deck of blank cards some      shoes and some blushing bullets

Would you do don't explain/be glad too

Slave Demo Tape

Magnificent   clamor magnificent   sin nubian hinter      his and hers invincibility   shackle on our hill I’ll ball             I roll in the grass action movie star   style I’ll hold the child like I rein   the horses I’ll blame the source of my  power for my pain I’ll be correct I’ll be correctional    I’ll be so courageous my heart will go on my       daybreak won’t wander in the dirt I won’t see daddy’s skull       or Nipsey’s in that soil I’ll get us a building how they   love their definitive structures their limits or boundaries so many words  for rethinking no where I’ll let the building laugh us off it’s math of cliffs          call this demolition call this upswinging falcon singing and yes I have this demo    tape unraveling this naked magnetic thing yes there’s a record we left in the   kef and dirt as rut as slaughter leather that was us

Keeps Georgia On

Messianic, this ship

Lanonic and not like Lacan     neuroplastic not like a dolphin  fanning Fannie Lou Hamer from the  salt lamp window don’t make sense      fingerprint on the mirror then      abduction has its resonance

It   sounds      again

But that is no reason to blame the large birds of prey for carrying off little lambs   

Having been taken     ravishment a fake   thing victimhood is       and so what is it that this   torment really wanted?

Not the   pathos  of distance     not    the path       to jazz   and rap music     and misogynists and    this strutted witness                    not Mingus’ big ass violin which    brings tears of joy to my eyes cracks    me open where the messiah shows himself      for the murderer he’s been

We    wanted          to be forgiven          like my hero mentions into    the mirror again for the murders   we intend

Large     merchants     in her skin       a big selling      hint a woman has   her prices this ship  might be a kite         on the lips of her    endless confession