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Checking_the_Temperature_on_an_American_Tightrope
Move with a different frequency. Purpose. Shift the paradigms. Ignore the broken creeds and traffic lights. Always turn up the volume. Liberty is in the mind and heart before it becomes belief or philosophy. God-given.… Read more
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Strange D.N.A. is Now Streaming on All Platforms!
Good afternoon! My latest Spoken Word album, Strange D.N.A., is now streaming on all platforms! Click on the image and enjoy! Read more
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Groundhog_Day
Hungry at 5:46am. Not for food orforms of nutrition. Resistance. Voice. Impact. Normal stuff. Spring’s warmfingertips begin to break winter’s grip. Temps start to feel like distant cousins,stopping by on their routes home or mama’s… Read more
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Tapestry_of_an_Empire
The smoke is normal. Crashing into the walls of a burning house has become common place, a routine I repeat almost daily. Graying hair symbolizes the time I have committed to inhaling metallic culture. A… Read more
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Cosplay_is_the_Norm (Sheesh)
Back in the bag, or the gamble,or the risk, rolling dice against gray concrete, trying to fortifywings to clip polluted skies. The boy is too fly, unkempt, and unruly,escaping the hot mouthed silliness of so-called… Read more
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Ready_for_I-64_and_America’s_Smile
Switching lanes on Interstate 64. Backups don’t mean much. Latin jazz vibes. Surfing on steel drums, congas, keys, melodies. Police cruisers patrol the spots between Military and Brambleton–ravens setting speed traps, but the people smirk… Read more
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Smoke_is_Normal
Hop and skip over social debris. Pursue the daylight, hovering toward the East. Oceanfront got them good vibes. Play Kind of Blue and let me lose track of the noise, the talking heads, and the… Read more
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Taking_Notes_from_Behind_an_American_Wall
(Inspired by Darryl Moss’s “From Numbers to Power“) Outrun hope. Sidestep hate. Allow the people to see Resistance as the new Golden Rule. I rule the space between my ears. The American puzzle is nothing… Read more
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Blue_in_Green
Listening to Blue in Green and Miles Davis offers a glimpse of daylight. Coltrane blows lightning. She says, “What are you listening to?” I say, “Prelude to a Revolution.” Subtle like God peeking through off-white… Read more
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Mr._Monroe’s_Ski_Mask
Mr. Monroe got a ski mask. Nothing but a smokescreen for plunder, for pillage, for rape, for robbery, for exploitation, for OIL, for global theft in the WEST. Indigenous lands don’t stand a chance (don’t… Read more
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I_Too_Sing_of_Decay
I, too, sing of decay and rot, swinging for the noses of State Repression and Control. Imperialism hides his hand; he tucks a ski mask in his back pocket. He talks about promises of wealth… Read more
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Sum_of_Man
Ease into morning. Stealth-like. A Robert Glasper melody establishing a new beginning. The day yawns, stretches, and turns the key. Ignite the motivation to live freely. This day-to-day thing takes a certain mastery, a skill,… Read more
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Black_Joy_is_a_Breakbeat
Shaking dice or pistachios during a pulsing breakbeat–a 1980’s thing. Boom-boom, bap, bap, bap, bap Boom-boom, bap, bap, bap, bap Militant intro to a New World blues. BLUES. Preacher offers a sermon. Our Father who… Read more
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Sunflower_Seeds_and_the_Work_of_Tomorrow
No filters up here. Alone on a tightrope above the noise, the metal, the grit, the social pollution; miles away from a soiled Constitution, I sharpenthe edge of a brain fixated on survival. Laced up… Read more
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Tethered_to_the_Master’s_Feet
High-stepping over snake-like structuresseems to be easy when avoiding them filthy cherry pies. I keep moving, like grit is a small bird perched on my shoulders. Trump hollers about immigrants with darker hues. New identity… Read more
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Dopamine_Drip_From_Cracked_ Pipes
Don’t chase the temporary high of click bait and sophisticated ways to steal attention. We have been reduced to mindlessly scrolling for our enslavement–prisoners trapped behind walls, claiming we are free because the Constitution says… Read more
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Delineation_for_Dummies
Delineation without nationhood is cosplay. Delineation without nationhood is COSPLAY, is cosplay, is cosplay, IS COSPLAY. They love them red, white, and blue apples, falling from Empire’s ripped garments. They pray to colonial fathers to… Read more
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No_Mercy_in_the_American_ Jungle
Mercy can’t live in a jungle. This experiment is deadly, a creature that tries to fill its belly on the flesh of humans. A game of click-clack starts as soon as boots touch the ground.… Read more
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Late_Autumn_Talks_in_Tongues
Balancing weight for the fifth time this week. Subtle. Heavy. A bluesy rhythm set to the tone of American hustle, muscle. Carlos Santanna strums a melody for a sun hanging on a cold day in… Read more
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Used to the Weather
Adapting to the changes. To changes, I adapt. Eerily. Patiently. An early November morning winks her eye. Still gambling with old dice, trying to outlive the poison of snakebites or out hustle the pigs at… Read more
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Words and Beats at Sundown
Joy is a state of mind. Even a crooked smile has value. Changing tires in the wilderness has become a thing. Greg Lee unpacks the gear for another small crowd. We fall in with the… Read more
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With Outstretched Wings
American politics weigh the equivalent of a night without Bobby Womack’s raspy voice filling this space. Eerie. Boring. Slightly neutral. Need some Soul to waist away the evening. Maybe some Blues from John Lee Hooker.… Read more
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Tell An Entirely Different Story
Allow wings to stretch, like the doors of a Cinnamon-skinned Ford Explorer cruising through the late 90s. Dad used to crisscross state lines, while I used to catch snoozes in the back seat, listening to… Read more
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Militant Kiss at Lunch Time
Step through empire, leave ruins on the bottom of black boots–lace themthings for struggle, for the gamble, for the hustle,for the swollen knuckles, for the donkeys, for the elephants, for the fat cats. Swell the… Read more
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New Poems in The Skinny Poetry Journal!
Peace and greetings! I hope this message finds you well and finding some semblance of peace in the current whirlwinds of the American experience. The Skinny Poetry Journal has published two of my poems, James… Read more
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Unbothered: After Election Time
After voting time, my face is still shaped like a fist. Tightly screwed. Unbothered. Huey P. Newton behind a podium or Fred Hampton trying to build class solidarity. The truth lives in a gray area,… Read more
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Nation-Building Escapes Fingertips
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.”–Marianne Williamson Allergic to nation-building and… Read more
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American Jazz in Late October
A different path. A different frequency. Flight is an idea, a way of life for people who are locked into alternative methods of screaming into the void, an American thing. The Last Poets talk fear… Read more
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Audio Leak Sundays: Junk Food
THANKS FOR LISTENING. MAKE SURE TO SUBSCRIBE TO MAILBOX WEEKLY! Read more
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Stand Down, Stand Up, and Kneel at the Same Time
Avoid cosplay by any means. Ten toes down. Actors can’t live here. As an Orange tyrant drives a filthy machine through traffic, hoping to convert sleepy people into patriotic minions. Toxic. Life in the margins is… Read more
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Resistance as Lullaby
Say no to empire, to both wings of the same filthybird. Parties of failure and gas lighters. Let the teacher bless cold classrooms with fiery lessons from US history. Let young Emmett Till get his… Read more
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No Emotions for a Failed Party
Hakeem Jeffries kneels for the umpteenth time this year. Tap shoes grind down to the soles on men who don’t have souls. They float, like bees, but sting and shuck, like worthless pigs, sporting power… Read more
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Get a copy of Blues in June Today!
For the next 7 days, readers can purchase copies of Blues in June, which is a small collection of poems from the forthcoming Blues Man on a Tightrope Vol. 1! Click on the image and… Read more
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Choose Smoke: If You Must Interact With Donkeys or Elephants
Dramatic. Like Gandhi tucking a firearm into the waistline of a three-piece suit, asking Congressto pass the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act. Or like Tupac spitting at reporters, and then speeding down the street… Read more
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Hampton, Like Fred
Hampton boulevard buzzes. I stalk sidewalk. A Free Palestine flag flaps in front of an old tree, towering, like a symbol of an American today, a tale creeping along flesh, begging for the right interpretation.D.… Read more
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Poem Written After Watching an Episode of Goliath
California license plate on a yellow bug. “Baby, I got your money,” she says, misremembering the codename. “The name is Fernando Vasquez,” he says. A lawyer with a bloody nose and a poor disposition slides… Read more
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Tradition for What?
Too fast to wear a crown.Uneasy. Heavy is the head. STILL. Raised on a different frequency,moving skillfully with sharks, like Miles Davis swimming in sound. SOUND is a temple. The gamble crawls on skin, and… Read more
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Said the Monk to His Earbuds
Beats by Dre hurl gritty street anthems. Nipsey Hussle. Jim Jones. Jeezy. K-Dot. Motivation is a strange addiction. Speed and altitude are objectives, pushing farther into concrete oblivion, keeping the circuit board CLEAN, like the… Read more
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Enter: We Were Supposed to Be Quiet?
Good morning! First and foremost, thanks for continuing to read the poems of Mailbox Weekly! I will continue to add new content at least once a week. You may receive two poems in a week,… Read more
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Long Way Home
City streets snake and swerve toward ordinary oblivion. Not worried about the hate and the hostile stares. Or the pissed off old man in a dark pickup truck, trying to make a quick exit on… Read more
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A Hustle Beyond the Stars and Stripes
Beyond traffic. Beyond cracked lives. Beyondbluesy attitudes, polluted countries, and silly white genocides. Bones don’t move for plastic ideals, shifty rhetoric, and piggish ways to prove American vomit is a gold-plated crutch. Sunlight breathes new… Read more
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Heavy is the Head Space
8 miles down a black road, hoping to smash before the crash.Hoping to bubble and ball before the sun comesup. Cool breeze gives me dap. Early morning deer escapeinto the last exhalationsof night. No one… Read more
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Never Attach Breaths to Conformity
Hang a left on Volvo Parkway. This Chesapeakething got blues in the veins,swag in the pockets. We craft vibes, weaving in andout of traffic patterns. GoBIG or go home. The route ispaved with good intentions,bones,… Read more
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