Tag Archives: mailbox weekly

Flex them chops. Craft soul until they aim faulty pistols or use sharp knees or interpretationsof American law. No need to comply. Refuse tradition. Establish new religion. Normal stuff. We are built for this savage wilderness, this strange stage of humanity. I start morning with a poor disposition, a higher frequency, a vibration screaming, likeContinue reading “Wake Up to Resistance”

Early fall creeps into September, like Hendrix playing riffs for a light crowd. Determined to shed the dead weight of colonial creeds, actions, and pigs that don’t fly straight. Life is a trafficjam, with gritty, hip hop playlists. Them sermons got me surveying heavens. Shades sliding down my nose. Speeding acrosstown because goalsdance, like elusiveContinue reading “Transformation is an Animal”

Listen to the audio or read below! Morning begins.Sun leans. 10:27am. Protein pancakes and boiled eggs provide the nutrition.Random birds talk, whistle, bounce from branch to branch in neighbor-hood trees, spray painting natural graffiti on greenery. Corner boys evade motion, the motion of street creatures, looking to slap silver rings on wrists, sending them young boys up the pipeline.Continue reading “AUDIO LEAK SUNDAYS: American Funk”

Listen to the audio or read below! Solitude is King. Isolation is a type of God. Some may not understand ambitions, goals, and appetites. Nothing satiates the Hunger, like the grit of living for the edge of oblivion’s high. High pitched mutes resemble the voice of man. Don’t speak too loudly. Don’t walk too tallContinue reading “AUDIO LEAK SUNDAYS: Island of the Mind or Listening to Miles Davis”

A healthy distrust for Wings. Left wing. Right wing. Same old dusty things with colonial voices, circling their decaying bodies. This is most of the time, like brewing coffee on Monday mornings– Kenyan blend– placing specific tools in a black duffle bag to dismantle Massa’s house. We all know that you can’t use the sameContinue reading “A Healthy Distrust”

No open palms in this crooked land. Only clenched fists and iron-like ideas  can survive in this social wilderness. I dig into this militant bag. Fela Kuti  runs down anticolonial chants to awaken morning.A fresh brew wafts into  spacious rooms–Kenyan blend. Huey P’s voice crawls into earbuds, like  a follower of a congregation. D.C. experiences empowered mediocrity. The Oval  Office got plans to take overContinue reading “Today’s Thoughts on Empire”

Cocoa scented skin wafts for moments–an epic simile–like my man Reggie, twirling a piece of raw chocolate from a Haitian cocoa tree. The years fly by. We grind. Buildto act, to protect,to love, to resist, to live, to leap overburdens, like we have surfed these metallic waves before. Liberated. Cageless. Roses forcing their ways throughContinue reading “More Human Each Day”