Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Tookie to Tikrit

In 10 hours and 16 minutes, Stanley Williams will be put to death. 
In 54 hours and a few minutes, Iraqi citizens will begin to vote. 

A gangsta, a thug, a nigga will die a martyr        &
A Sunni, a Sh'ite, a Kurd will live an ideal         
Both be symptomatic of how we humans decide our fate as well as others. 
Both be born of a process that seeks justice through unjust means. 
Both, comedic in their tragedy. 
Both, shocking in their realism. 
Both irrelevant to the average American's day. 
So easy to care about neither circumstance. 
So cryptic to engage either's significance. 
How unsettled both shall read, a textual rememberance. 
How anxious both shall figure, a dreadful augury. 

In ten hours the state will kill 
In 54 hours the polls will open in 

Friday, January 16, 2015

Intro to an End

Wow, to be here now, talking to you
bout this
I'v heard a few lyrics
stole a few rhymes 
But I never felt
so behind the times
Can't watch the game
without feeling shame

I live the bohemian lifestyle 
Words can't bring me down
To definitions I never wrote
Yet understood
To mean I was beautiful 

We all care what others think
No reason to make a stink
We've come so far 
Let's enjoy the brink

Staring down always felt more natural than
looking up
To yous I'm just thug

A Tax Platform

This ain't class warfare 
My platform is for societal welfare
And before you say socialist nigga
Read my lips
I'm talkin all new taxes
Like every good capitalist
Man can make what he make
Just can't take what he take
So if that is your first take:

Than I'm a commie bastard
And a vote for me would be a disaster 
Then you better stop listening 
Lest I Change your mind
As I speak on design 
And how we've all bought in
To fucking toeing the line
Ain't about believing lies
Or speaking truths 
But building roofs 
Providing shelter
Meeting needs
If it bleeds it feeds
It will bleed to feed
So it will come for yours if you don't give it some
And now day it seems like none. 

Taxes are what built the Roman Empire
Don't care what gibbon say
I'v never read him anyway
It's when they stopped paying taxes
That empire fell
Come on people it ain't 
Hard to tell 

[ A Tax Platform ]

Monday, November 24, 2014

Hashtag Ferguson

So the decision was tonight
Made it a primetime delight 
Interupted the Bills game, which
Was delayed and relocated due to snow 
That May or perhaps 
Was not caused by global warming. 

Darren Wilson not charged
A just kill
Product of protocol. 
What I hear out the mouths of white people

What I hear out the mouz of black folks

Just another decision, another tough call
Another life not valued
But yet makes us [society] struggle
About how we value
A symptom of a cause
Like trying to heal a gunshot wound with gauze. 
A phish line for me
A punch line for the middle class
An anxiety for the wealthy. 
How uppity will this make 
Even if 
I'm one of them (punctuated by a silent screaming)


Friday, November 7, 2014

Danny's Wegmans & The American Dream

I smoke my weed, eat my cheese cut my coke and watch my screens grow fatter by the day and higher into the night and puzzle over whether this be the dream? 
I slip into Ebonics more and more these days, so this is giving up, turning in, Friday night dinner at the grocers, movie out a vending machine; just cuz I don t feel like streaming tonight. Succumbing to the age, absent of grace, devoid of any discernible talents, hanging on a wage, maybe still scribble out a page, cipher out a tweet, chirping: I'm still young, only half believing  that perhaps this be fun. 

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Ode to Robert Moog

New Orleans is 
The rain beats steadily outside my window. 
I'm trying to pick a starting hand,
while others pick through their rubble wondering how to start anew. 

Trying to synthesize the thoughts 
so I can lay them juxtaposed in a psychedelic fashion
for others to trip out on. 
Yet they feel so far away. 

The rain outside my window, 
moved on from the Big Easy, when really I sat down, between hands to pay homage to the man, who like Eli Whitney, invented a device of liberation. 
Just as the gin freed the slave through automation the synthesizer freed the beats from monotones. 
I can't imagine the sound and fury of my life without the repercussions of Bob's device. 
For the soundtrack of my life could never have been produced.

I know the world goes on, through tragedy and chance, and through it all we look to god to make sense of what was dealt. Yet I also know that sense is made through synthesis and death is just a part of the blend, and I can't help but think what better way for god to speak and be heard. 


Saturday, March 29, 2014

Life Can Wait

I go from mostly sober to really high to hardly drunk to officially blacked out, and I know all of those mees. 
I'm Admass with a philosophy like that of mad max, completely in my age since before I was of age. I don't just read, I grok, and if I'm hanging with some techies we can converse on Spock. If I was a painter I'd be sans smock, messy with my work, cuz I wear what I paint. Just a modern day poet thinking life can wait.