DeCrowned Boy, you need to go on and cut your hair. You look so handsome with your hair cut. Don’t nobody want to see them ugly ass naps in your head. Your kitchen is all jacked up. Look at all them peas you got cookin’ back there. Them shits’ll go to poppin’ when that comb get to ‘em.You can’t get no job with your head lookin’ all kinds of ways. Don’t nobody want a nigga with a nappy head, I promise you.
I keep tellin’ you to comb your goddamn hair, but your silly ass don’t listen. Don’t no white man want to give you no job no way. All you doin is makin’ it easier for him. You givin’ him the perfect excuse to kick your monkey ass to the curb. Don’t say a nigga never told you nothin’. You know a nigga speak the truth.
I picked up a strange tape box when my daddy was moving things out of his storage unit.
Depicted on it in many separate frames was an orgy, though that word would not come for some time.
Sex was already in my vocabulary because I looked it up in the dictionary, along with penis ( ding-a-ling ) and vagina ( ). I wrote those words as much as possible so I could have them in my imagination, like griffin and unicorn.
Playboy showed me sex before the tape box, but only in the form of vanilla duets, rather than as hypnotizing bacchanal ( an episode of Hercules: the Animated Series)
I saw a dog’s corpse on the side of the road tossed beneath hydrangea bushes, with fur painted by dust and clotted blood and feet caught up in rigor mortis, as if still racing toward mischievous squirrels.
What I thought were maggots turned out to be caterpillars, and what I presumed were flies darting were bees.
They took to the flowers, thoughtlessly accepting the macabre perfume.
blame no one for the devil loving humanity too strongly, merely spare the intricate parts living out their clockwork repetitions, their equally meaning filled, meaning void contributions.
spill the watery wisdom from human roots, with sounding off little
broken spells of birth, consciousness, despair, and death
with the tongues of unzipped mouths,
burst of anger
excursions into apocalyptic mindsets, avoided as much as desired,
money anxieties, money problems, money glorification, money robbed,
and banks and houses emptied as sacrifice to dying Americas of
dreamed inheritance, never really fulfilled, but dreamed always on
the backs of its awakening children, sistren, brethren, and the like
lights (Inspiration, smoked and fleeting)
out of the orchidaceous lobes
in Buddha's bowl of prayers
serpents who still offer supplication from earth, sea, sands
sad legless children.
loved them in their first forms in the great garden then hated them.
God robbed them blind down their descendants and quickly after forgot
to restore them, even though their ancestral crime was bred in
possession by the willful Jinn. Still they are tormented, still they
ecstasy is their miracle to disseminate with abandoned skins and
somatic immortality remains only in retribution