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
They
       Gunna
                 Riot
                       Either
                               Way 

What I hear out the mouz of black folks
We 
     Finnah'be
                   Black
                           Either
                                    Way

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 
US
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 
awash. 
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.