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 mindless chatter, the characters without characters. Different Breed. Green tea with protein is the brew. Stevia pulls up to chillContinue reading “Smoke_is_Normal”
Tag Archives: mailbox weekly
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 more than a maze-like trap. I test boundaries, inhale limits, lean forward into grease, metal, grind. Mr. Moss talks aboutContinue reading “Taking_Notes_from_Behind_an_American_Wall”
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 blinds, watching the aftermath of Creation. I flip American channels: ICE Shoots a Woman Fleeing the Scene. Venezuela Agrees toContinue reading “Blue_in_Green”
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 stand a chance). US imperialism is the boogeyman, the boogeyman, the boogeyman, is the language of beasts in a threeContinue reading “Mr._Monroe’s_Ski_Mask”
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 and status. Elephants and donkeys surf airwaves, passing blame. Normal stuff. I scowl at the puppet master, walking along cobblestoneContinue reading “I_Too_Sing_of_Decay”
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, a relentless step along shifting concrete to navigate empire. The cracks are deadly. Politicians flash sinister smiles. I carefully examineContinue reading “Sum_of_Man”
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 boots are normal conditions. Tupac hollers from a street corner. I focus on the margins, making a homenear outlaws, rebelsContinue reading “Sunflower_Seeds_and_the_Work_of_Tomorrow”
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 groups echo his hot-tempered rhetoric, like they forgot liberation is already in our DNA, like we forgot that they grovelContinue reading “Tethered_to_the_Master’s_Feet”
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 so. Silly rationales have value. The paradigm remains. Instead, I lift fingers to rebel, to soothe, to heal, and toContinue reading “Dopamine_Drip_From_Cracked_ Pipes”
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. Throwing dice is like breathing, dreaming. Empire functions as it was designed. I move along a black marble square, aContinue reading “No_Mercy_in_the_American_ Jungle”
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