1. |
Where I'm At
01:40
|
|||
2. |
Invocation
02:23
|
|||
Please allow me to introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
A walking contradiction
A hopeless optimist and a faith filled cynic
Imperfect god in the flesh
a saint and sinner
A no-name famous
legendary beginner
a stumbling tongue twisting teetotaler
drunken master of the sobering concept
a stalwart vagabond light writer
walking in a golden corona
intergalactic aura
a traveling doctor
and a moonlighting coroner
performing autobiographical autopsies
in dimly lit edifices for your edification
a man
of wealth
and taste
a first string
second line
verbal horn blower
meticulous sound-bending alchemist
and soulful mourner
the unknown soldier
a liquid sword sorcerer
civil war and uncivil peace reporter
anonymous contributor to the book of life
signing the byline with an infinity symbol
pleased to meet you
hope you’ve guessed my name
the stress induced ulcer in the belly of the beast
The aggregate of the good
the bad
and ugly
pleased to make your acquaintance
I’m you new best friend
The self taught
Home grown terror
Desk ducking son of the Regan-Bush era
independently distributed narcotic thought wholesaler
ominous figure with somber intensity
whispering generously
offering unsuspecting listeners the first hit for free
Scribbling and spitting a literary hallucinogen
El Shaddai is my supplier I’m a
man of wealth
and taste
A bad trip on a long vacation
Multisyllabic gist dipped in a circle of fifths
Liquid contraband delivered to your inner being
changing everything
Listen intently if you value the factual
Imbibe and rewind me often
Make yourself at home
God is spoken here
Slip me under your tongue
And touch the stratosphere
I am a man of wealth and taste
A concentrated substance
A weapon of mass CONSTRUCTION
Smuggle me into the devils den
and kill them softly
|
||||
3. |
Speak Freely
02:54
|
|||
I am an inner city poet
Black heterosexual male 30 something
Hip hop rhythm in my speech
T-shirt reflecting my left wing beliefs
African beads baggy jeans and black Timberland kicks
Nappy twisted roots peeking from underneath a camouflage bandana
Wrist wrapped in a red black and green wristband
Answering to an assumed nom de plume
You know what I’ve come here to do
yes, you have seen my kind before
I am an irrational proponent of black liberation here to irritate you
I blow things way out of proportion
I complain too much
I show no consideration for the pain of others
Nor do I display commiseration for their struggles
I am a misogynistic
Homophobic
Philistine
A heathen
In need of a salvation that only your righteous chastisement
Can provide me
I have a spontaneously combustible temper
A predisposition towards inexplicable indignation
And an insane tendency to literarily displace aggression
After all
You’ve never owned any slaves
And anyone that would go out of their way to make one or two black friends
can’t possibly be racist, now can they?
You know me
I’m a self righteous hypocrite
Pro black and no reality
Ex gang banger turned activist turned rapper and or slam poet but you
You see straight through that charade don’t you
You know I’m not an artist
I’m a charlatan talking garbled nonsense calling it consciousness my thoughts are garbage
Love Jones
Mixed with public enemy
Just another black-crab-in-the-bucket-wannabe
Another weed inebriated
Power to the people
Rerun rabble rouser rapping revolutionary rhetoric as the crickets play along
I am the ace of spades race card player
Raising my right fist in praise of a nebulous black liberation agenda
you know me I’m just another would be riot inciter
I mix conspiracy theories
with meandering listings of so-called political prisoners
while attempting to convince you that its art
I am an ignorant belligerent lost cause
A marginally literate imposter
Crip walking on your conscience
And transgressing against your colorblind ideals
I am so passé
I still speak of white privilege
As if it exists
I am a card carrying reverse racist pig
Dr. Martin Luther King would disagree with me
because apparently I hate white people
I am so redundant
I really should expand my horizons after all
The whole world can’t be black
And all of that talk about the past
can only make the race problem come back
I am so damn divisive
And as soon as I walked into this venue
you knew that I came here to rain down licentious contrivances from stage
Victimizing my listeners via tirades filled with
inane inflamed and misaimed black outrage
you may as well ignore me
cause you’ve heard it all before right
I am biased one dimensional and closed minded
and you damn well know it
so never mind me
I guess poetry really isn’t my thing
Maybe I’ll be enlightened if I just keep my thoughts to myself
and listen to you
my subconscious is a real pig sty
and I don’t remember extending an invitation
but since you’re already here- come on in
just go ahead and make yourself at home
please
tell me how we’re all the same again
show me how to make myself expression less intimidating
I am begging you
help me make my aimless raving relate-able to the mainstream way of thinking
because you’ve already made it painfully apparent
that I’m devastatingly incapable
of expressing my own position
without my skin and gender rendering me victim of a prejudicial stigma
or
having plight disavowed outright
by so called open minded open mic attendees
when I bleed
its seen as weakness when I scream
and when I speak of freedom
its greeted with derision
from the very individuals that claim to be proponents
of unfettered self expression
but my life will not be circumscribed according to their biases
I am so much more than black heterosexual and male
I’m music
I’m grief
I’m love
I’m loss
I’m father
I’m bitter
I’m brother
I’m gangsta
I’m son
I’m faithful
I’m joyful
I’m wisdom
I’m infinite
I’m complex
I’m a survivor I’m a survivor I’m a survivor I’m a survivor
I’m a living breathing human being offering you a glimpse into my spirit
and I am still struggling to be and speak freely
|
||||
4. |
Escapism
03:42
|
|||
He is a slave to the rhythm
and he dances
his lash lacerated past weeps inconsolably
but he still tries to dry it’s tears
he is a sojourner
and ancient spirits speak to him in pictures
as he extends his branches and ascends into the atmosphere
liquid prism prose descends and drenches his ambitious digits
he is a slave to the rhythm
and this is his midnight ritual he sits transfixed
bloodshot eyes like apple tree fingers reaching into a December sky
his essence is eclectic electric iridescent MIDI signals flicker in his sound garden
he sits and travels
tangential instrumentalist waxing transcendental
transposing binary codes to good foot notes and incense quotes
conjured in hopes to hit the intended target hard enough to give the Gods above
a reason to believe in all of us again
his passion is altruistic repentance for our collective apathy
they speak to him in pictures
and his ink slings whispered screams across the processed carcasses of trees
his muse fiends for cocaine and gun powder
and as she sniffs the mix
the hit trickles into his pen
facilitating his creative fix
he is a slave to the rhythm
and this is the way he scribbles hidden pain
from his inner sanctum
artistic doesn’t begin to illustrate this sick exchange
and mere language is incapable of elucidating the peculiar images trickling into his veins
so they speak to him
in pictures
delineating literary glyphs of Cadillacs castrating Adam
raping Eve’s new year
penetrating her raw dog
(dog) eat dog
(dog) days dawn
(dawn) of the (dead)
deadly words he speaks the unspeakable bitter pill
chanting enigmatic riddles
into phallic apparatuses as he peers into the black abyss behind his eyelids
he is the aphrodisiac necromancer of dead poets
smearing see men into the hollow sockets of sable sirens
as they bitterly lament the lack of black back bone
dismembering the grim reaper’s cadaver rendering resurrection obsolete
he lives in the space between the rock and hard place
dynamite and Namaste
exchanging positive karma for God’s promises
he is hip hop’s exiled messiah
celestial graffiti writer
spirit speaker zigzagging between frequencies
intangible to the apathetic right brain they speak to him in pictures
and captivated minds cannot reside in the Zion hiding behind his eye and eye
he is Lucifer’s nemesis living in the center of his brimstone domain
meditating in the basement generating salvation for heaven’s sake
lyrical trickster attempting to pick the lock of heaven’s gate
bartering insomnia for insight by limelight he is carnal complex
he is God’s apprentice architect mimicking the master’s intergalactic masterpieces
he is a ring shout and a rain stick a bebop walking jazz riff with Coltrane tracks in his forearms
he is Satchmo’s grin he is
minister mister magic’s everlasting echo
the limitless synonym for soul
he is a soliloquist disseminating his intense elixir mysticism
city to city to displace pervasive complacency
he is a slave to the rhythm and this is his ritual
for escape…
|
||||
5. |
Vortexas
02:35
|
|||
6. |
Concentrated Substance
05:05
|
|||
<Karega's Verse>
This is intended to enter your inner self
and intersect with your essential center
intellect is rendered irrelevant if the spirit isn’t resurrected
however
if you can remember how to listen between the measures
heaven’s messenger is whispering within your inner rhythm
expand your perceptions to catch
the projected solar flare ballistic philosopher’s stone
supernova groove induce the soul to move
the soothsayer seduces the oracle to show the future
overrule the mediocre
rain or shine?
antidote filled pens deliver analytical anecdotes
sonic prestidigitation provokes and stokes the ocher flame
we are anti-pedantic mechanics
skillfully wielding the tools of the trade
ratcheting catalytic concepts converting language to change
mojo voodoo solar devoted voted most likely and expected to levitate
kinetic meditation
the inner space invader created to radiate radio waves
ancient and alien avian sable Homo Sapien angelic and iridescent
a futuristic relic sipping hard water
a paradoxical logical ominous God
a centripetal spirit spinning and spherical
gyroscopic optic sensing images in 3 dimensions
pre
imminent lyrically rhythmic chemist spilling obsidian seed
increase the frequency as
Mr. Fiddler tickles the keys
Spitting mystical sentiments
scribbled in subliminal arithmetic
prodigious and diligent metaphysician dibbling and dabbling in alchemy
Melanin mixed with ancestral wisdom and elegance
perpetually next level dwellers
inextricably connected to the infinite
intelligence
forever
ascending
ascending
|
||||
7. |
Inhaling Heaven
08:02
|
|||
I live to inhale your heaven
To swim in your inner abyss
To sip
lap
and lick
the hallucinogenic sap dripping from the two lips in your secret garden
sweet heart I am high
Inebriated by the mixed scents of vanilla incense
and uninhibited femininity
I spend my waking minutes envisioning the chimera
of your sun kissed unblemished skin undulating and drenched
in me
in you
in us
we meet beneath neon marquees and star constellations
when the city sleeps and the senses awaken
anticipating generating heat in crimson tinted chambers
anticipating breaking the bed frame and waking the neighbors
see baby I’m anxiously anticipating insatiable tongues
honey glazed faces
and sticky fingers
baby I need to see you sweat
see I came here
to take you there
to witness you glistening and grimacing in ecstasy
I am a bit of a fanatic I will admit
I mean I am a bit obsessed with
the lascivious image of your exquisite skin jiggling and shivering
your frantic fingers gripping sheets and reaching into empty space
I am simply addicted to hearing your delirious screams
repeated over and over in ever escalating octaves until your eyes roll back
climaxing
trapped in a spastic convulsion
eyes wide open
mind blown
no
God is not my name
but thank you anyway baby
you lay prostrated
collapsed in the afterglow
your essence dances on my tongue as a mystic memento
slowly I drift into REM sleep
hoping to again meet the sweetest dream I’ve ever seen
and anyone who really knows me
knows you to be inexplicably woven into my speech
voodoo witchy woman that you are
ubiquitous gentle twister you haunt me
seeping into my blood and creeping into my subconscious
embracing my perceptions and caressing them until
every image within them is twisted into your likeness
Miss you’re like this living rhythm
a hypnotic overture washing over my senses
scintillating and lyrical sweet sable siren song
constantly calling me back for more
baby I live for this embrace
you are the air that I breathe
and I can’t wait to see you again
|
||||
8. |
What's In a Name
01:23
|
|||
9. |
Are You Kidding
03:33
|
|||
10. |
Evolve Affair
02:42
|
|||
11. |
Growing Pains
05:09
|
|||
As our children sit and listen by our bedroom doors
we so called grown people
grow into what will become of them
deciding the future by the light of the moon
evening screams punctuated by dissident midnight silences
and screeched allegations of infidelities
based on the second hand accounts
of imaginative and envious witnesses
we begin to consider each other guilty until proven innocent
yet
we remain obstinate in our suspicions
no proof is sufficient
belief trumps reason
we grow intolerant and hard of hearing
arguments growing louder and louder
love notes gone sour
dark blue duo singing dissonant two part harmony
at the top of our lungs
Clashing
sarcastic
acerbic and frantic
slashing and cutting each other down to the bone marrow
as our un-manicured egos
come to overshadow our solemn oaths
we grow
and passions afterglow is exhausted
fractured and collapsed
surrendering before the panting aftermath
of the most up-to-date mêlée with our better halves
we stand before each other naked
perspiring
crying and bleeding and
growing
shocked into an unnatural catatonic posture
rocked to the core by the harshness of our newly acquired perspectives
we grow out of our imaginations
and talk our of our heads
snatching off our rose tinted sunglasses
lenses cracked and shattered
we stand there
abandoned and bitter yet
hopelessly hopeful
tears of Crimson descending
sprinting rivers running into reservoirs
congealing and festering
sweltering
gradually growing greener
it’s funny
how unsophisticated we get
in the midst of complicating the simplistic
we use the same mouths to take vows
as the ones we use to shout each other down
and run each other through the mud
and maybe somewhere deep down inside of each of us
we believe that we can find our own salvation
by sacrificing each other
so we cut deeper
attempting to bleach our grief in one another’s blood
we become
ghastly gardeners fumbling with envious thumbs
spitting venom
irrigating rows of white rose remnants
we spit fire ‘til we set the petals ablaze
leaving smoldering ashes scattered amongst
thorn laurelled stems casting exaggerated shadows in the autumn sun
standing singed
solemn and grave
we sleep restlessly in beds we’ve neglectfully made
and we grow
traipsing through the rows of our garden
reaping pernicious epithets indelibly etched in the depths of our souls
we grow out of our unconditional delusions
I love you, but
I love you, if
I love you stitches ripped open with razor tipped slips of the tongue
we grow
outlook growing bleaker
We grow distant
Jaded eyes retreating into fields of iridescent blackberries
And a thousand pixilated games and applications
meant to save us from facing each other
Crying out in desperation
Praying for an electrified consolation
We throw each other away and embrace
the creeping vine wires rising from quicksand
In our relentless pursuit of escape
We get caught up and drawn down into a solipsistic abyss
becoming ingrown people
too busy to love
contented memories fleeting
becoming forgetful
unable or unwilling
to remember what we used to see in each other
unable or unwilling
to remember what we use to be to each other
we grow unhappy to see one another
we grow bitter
we grow bitter
we grow apart
Your priorities begin to travel abroad
growing more and more sophisticated
more sophisticated than I ever could hope to be
and I respond in kind
lashing out in a prideful attempt to make things even between us
even if it ends up rendering our evenings odd and distant
we holler till we hollow out the hallowed home we used to have
alone we grow
cold
becoming weary of the underestimated struggle
heavy is the hand that wears the wedding band I guess
too heavy
so reluctant yet recalcitrant
in tandem we press the big red button
unified in suicide only
we witness the vicious fission of the nuclear black family unit
sitting back and watching the bombastic blast
as if it’s an out of body experience
while our baby
sits there crying silently outside the bedroom door
tip toeing back into his room
slipping back under the covers and
drifting into his first dreamless sleep
he grows
we grow
into statistics
becoming more
and more
ordinary
|
||||
12. |
Improvisation
03:41
|
|||
What do I do now
This was my last try
Now I'm all cried out
So now its goodbye
Time will heal all wounds
Right now I'm in pain
Love I thought was mine
I'm alone again
There are so many ways
To show I love you
And only so many words I can say
to reassure you
I can only do my best
To make you happy
Just for you to fall in love
With someone not me
What do I do now
It was my last try
Now I'm all cried out
So now its goodbye
Time will heal all wounds
Right now I'm in pain
Love I thought was mine
I'm alone again
How do I mend my shattered heart
When half of it left with you
In a sense now I am color blind
Cause everything is now so blue
So
What do I do now
This was my last try
Now I'm all cried out
So now its goodbye
Time will heal all wounds
Right now I'm in pain
Love I thought was mine
I'm alone again
|
||||
13. |
A Requiem for Magnolia
11:44
|
|||
Katrina levee
Voodoo Woman’s water breaks
Wash our Blues away
Act I
Scene I
2008
As the moon breaches the Eastern horizon she arises for her ritual
mahogany refugee manifesting African realities in American effigy
she peers into the mirror
meticulously slathering a MAC facade onto a dark deceivingly stark canvas
getting glamorous for her date with escapism
Scene II
Her stiletto heels click a rhythmic cadence
kissing the faces of immense steel sentinels that have replaced her neighborhood
she is sleepless in Seattle,
in Dallas, the Big Apple,
Atlanta, Salt Lake City or Washington D.C.
nocturnal queen walking beneath flickering streetlamps
in a lost angel metropolis or hailing a taxi in the Windy City
headed for the club district again
Scene III
As the alien cityscape sprints past her window
her separation anxiety begins to flare again
she closes her eyes and whispers her spirit a lullaby for consolation
almost home
almost home
this is her new existence
full of unfamiliar sights by day
but transforming back into the lower ninth when the night falls
she tips the cabbie as she arrives at the night spot
outside she sees a dagger tongued arachnid
leaning in to whisper sweet nothings
into the ear of a giggling glitter caterpillar
and she remembers her first time
she remembers home
almost home
almost home
stiletto heel rhythm clicking briskly
she reaches the bouncer
passes the velvet rope and reanimates
happy to be back in the place where everybody knows her face
and no one knows her name
she is only 18
but her displaced age old scars
find a familiar razor’s edge by the bar
the DJ spins earsplitting tantric anthems to her backside
drowning out the background sounds
of Cancer crabs grabbing
the innards of black men and women
like her and her and her and him
she sits silent
gingerly gripping her lipstick tipped Virginia Slims cigarette
flicking it’s ashes and peering into its smoldering rosebud
she considers how far she’s come
only to end up a fixture in dens like this one
her legs have become estranged by a trail of deranged minstrels
soulless men attempting to find God at his old address
her inner space is sore and shredded
but here she is again
continuing her descent
attempting to amend the divine oversight
of her survival bar side her ghost filled womb gapes open
jaded hoping waiting for the next chrome totting jester
to invest in his dick with distilled spirits
she sits there
wishing for a new trick to rent her
a Glinlivet filled snifter
an elixir in which she can dip her memories
and numb the pain
finally he sees her
she sees him
he seizes his chance and three drinks later she is dancing
beginning to forget the day the rain came once again
Katrina levee
Voodoo Woman’s water breaks
Wash our Blues away
Scene IV
At the witching hour they leave together
headed to an all too familiar rendezvous
three blocks away
a short stay motel
sweat stained bed drenched in the remnants of prior indiscretions
as the ritual begins she disconnects
he doesn’t notice
he is a Martian astronaut geologist digging for gems beneath Venus’s crust
only to discover stardust
water logged bodies
and a granite heart thumping an elegy
he comes and goes
promising to call
she sneers dismissively
knowing better
she reflects
“you never can tell with some men… he may even mean well…”
but insanity is the only fellow that never left her side
she knows his style
always true to form he never ever disappoints her
even tragedy hasn’t the decency to sleep next to her after he climaxes
he hits and runs
they always hit and run
silence
she sighs as she rises
midnight phoenix ascending from the ashes of her innocence
stiletto heels click a rhythmic cadence
back to reality
collapsing into a restless prostration
fading as the stars begin to vanish and the city
opens it’s eyes
Katrina levee
Voodoo Woman’s water breaks
Wash our Blues away
Act II Scene I
Flashback 2005
Southeastern Louisiana August heat
Trapped in the attic for the past 16 hours
nowhere
no one to run to
a crimson river bubbles up to the surface of a tumultuous obsidian abyss
contractions attack her ravenous and relentless like
her family’s backhanded quips about her ancestry and the
vicious insults about her chocolate skin that singed themselves
into her inner sense of self
she browns out and nearly collapses
snapped back to consciousness by the acrid stench of death
she struggles to stand erect but
another labor pain doubles her over
buckling her knees
shoving her nose to nose with her own distorted contorted reflection
a motor oil slick waltzes in polychromatic paisley patterns
poverty’s artwork wafting on a toxic canvas of
raw sewage
river water
rotting meat
bleach
discarded syringes and gasoline
liquor bottles
insulation strips
insects
asbestos
pesticides
birth blood
tear drops and God’s wrath
bloody bare knuckles desperately impact the ceiling
as she attempts to reach the sun
No wait baby
Wait no don’t come yet
Momma’s gotta reach the sun
God HELP us
GOD HELP us
God help us
Katrina levee
Voodoo Woman’s water breaks
Wash our Blues away
She wails in agony as his head breaches her hymen
her tongue is numb from calling on God
calls for Momma stop in mid air
dropping into the concoction
sinking to the bottom
drowning like her baby boy beginning to kick sporadic
bloody knuckles thrash frantic
the abyss is getting deeper
minute old hands thrash frantic
where is Grand momma’s Jesus when you need him
she is screaming
her six year old brother’s lifeless arm floats over
draping her shoulder
consoling her post mortem
ancestral uncle ushering her son into the afterlife so soon
No wait baby
Wait no don’t come yet
Momma’s gotta reach the sun
God HELP us
Katrina levee
Voodoo Woman’s water breaks
Wash our Blues away
Scene II
Thrice denied by the divine
The kicking stops
The punching stops
The praying stops
The feeling stops
Silence
Sledge hammer explosions usher in the sun
She doesn’t even hear them
She is limp
Senses numb
Young would be mother
Dragged from the attic
and wrapped in a flannel comforter
Nothing left to struggle for
There is no land of opportunity
There is no land
Snapshot
Blue Skies
Black Water
Black Bodies
Blues People
Red Eyes
White Hands
Black Guns
Blue Eyes
Black Cameras
New Baby
Blue Baby
Blue
Baby
Noose lynched umbilical cord hanging from heaven
Limp infant pendulum swinging in the breeze
21st century picnic postcard
He came too soon
He ^ came too late
He came too soon
He ^ came too late
Cyclical refrain revolving in the darkness of her consciousness
Katrina levee
Voodoo Woman’s water breaks
Wash our Blues away
Scene III
September 11
2005
FEMA trailer solitary cell sweltering
She sits listless
Peering into empty space
Images censored
Deemed too explicit for CNN she’s been skinned
alive
repeatedly beaten by sanctimonious sensibilities and shifting eyes
She is invisible
Told to get over it over and over again
Considered invincible
Told to get over it over and over again
spirited from the
spirited from the Superdome
to Astrodome to the four winds
her neglected post traumatic stress descending into perpetual yesterdays
as her existence is eclipsed by the next Paris Hilton headline
repeatedly told she should be grateful that they came to save her
she cries herself to sleep at night
knowing better
grieving parents recognize
that there are some things worse than death
“So many of these people in the arena here, you know
were underprivileged anyway so this (chuckle)
this is working very well for them.” – Barbara Bush
Katrina levee
Voodoo Woman’s water breaks
Wash our Blues away
Act I
Scene I
2008
She’s awakened by a passing train
Another tear soaked pillow
As the moon breaches the Eastern horizon
And she arises for her ritual
Mahogany refugee manifesting African realities
in American effigy
She peers into the mirror
knowing
|
||||
14. |
Streets of Gold
02:10
|
|||
15. |
Oneness
02:39
|
|||
In the name of Allah the Beneficent the Merciful
Oneness
Characterized by unity undivided agreement
Our unity is more powerful than an atomic bomb
Elijah Muhammad
When you see me you see the father for I and the father are one
Yeshua
Oneness
Oh God of mercy I appreciate thee
when I can’t see I focus because you say you are in me
Nneka
Oneness
My life and my death are all for Allah
the Lord of the worlds
Oneness
Don’t betray what you portray
Saafir
Oneness
Servitude is the sincerest express of gratitude
Oneness
Reject the unauthorized authority of your impulses and emotions
Rise above your emotions into the thinking of God
Elijah Muhammad
Oneness
The universe is a woman and she will submit to anyone worthy
Oh my father I saw eleven stars and the moon
I saw them making obeisance to me
Surah 12 Verse 4
Oneness where two or more are gathered in my name there I am in the midst of them
Jesus
the love affair that cannot be compared to any other
Oneness
God is One
Oneness
Karega
the safe haven granting access to the upper room
allowing the purified ones the freedom to run wild like an oblivious child
both mentally and spiritually
displaying his power to carry the chose ones into the fifth dimension
God manifested in the flesh
Oneness
|
||||
16. |
The Riot Act
06:22
|
|||
I don’t think that I think like y’all think that I do When it comes to analyzing my mind insight defies you And you can’t define my life anymore than I can classify you Yet you continue to attempt to circumscribe me Issuing unsolicited critiques of who I be as if I breathe for your approval And I could continue to attempt to share my pain and bare my soul naked before you but I’ve come to find that monkeyshines and mindless high jinks tend to ensue When illiterate individuals attempt to proofread my truth So if I’ve been reclusive its simply due to the fact That an elder once said to me never to cast my pearls before swine And although I’m not implying that everyone in our community fits this description This is meant for the duplicitous Low life degenerates with senseless innuendo dripping from their lips Maliciously attempting to pit my kin against me as if anyone in my inner circumference would up and jump ship subsequent to listening to them it never fails to amaze me the crazy inane things the feeble and craven will say when they think that they’re safely away from my reach and enabled to hatefully speak on me freely the only impasse with that tactic is that if ever I become aware of your invective I will address it with extreme prejudice so welcome to my bad side
HERE’S A QUESTION:
Isn’t it ironic that the pathological community conditions
that many of these so called militant lyricists tend to lament in their lines
are immortalized by the very characteristics they tend to epitomize?
moreover
Isn’t it astounding how these same individuals are quick to get sentimental
with anyone they figure they can manipulate to get ahead
misappropriating labels like
brother sister comrade business partner or best friend
however
if ever their unethical rhetoric ends up ineffective
they’re ever so quick to switch to disrespectful
I’ve
witnessed this phenomenon so often that I’ve come to consider it inevitable
so please
bear with me if I initially
seem to be reticent to let you in
just consider it conditioned self defense
given my own experience
Don’t take it personal
Just know that I’m just averse to bull
And although I know the phrase poetry scene has become slang for pissing competition
I’d much rather use my gifts to soothe the bruised and battered spirit
And as opposed to whispering aspersions concerning the personal business of other lyricists
I’d rather lift my voice
delivering prescriptions scribbled down to mend the human condition
wield your pen to heal them
this is the mission I’ve been sent here to fulfill
but it’s been my experience that there will consistently be a few covetous individuals
nuts enough to try to undercut while I do my thing
well okay
if you insist
proceed if you wish
but please remember this admonition
my malice for my adversaries has no limits
nor has it an end
I am a man of principles one being self respect
and in defense of my principles I am naught if not direct
therefore
if any individual hearing this still feels the need to speak ill of me
consider this an offensive
a pre-emptive strike
a wicked apparition penned with intentions to bring your entrenched fears to life
whenever I’m incited to write a riot act
my inner peace yields
to a killer beast here
spitting a bitter piece
dipped in venom speech
getting nitty-gritty knee deep in these
blithering idiot critics and enemies
bleeding crimson weakness shivering
with each and every syllable
I deliver I defy you to silence me bitch please
More often than not it’s the small minded that try to malign me spitefully
Whispering whimpering and whining to their friends
that I’m some kind of supercilious elitist prick
which is an awfully ironic indictment in light of the fact that I never take credit for my gifts
Mr. Ani
Is simply a mouthpiece for the ancestors and the grand planner that sent him
and really its sad to witness
cause I could be the guy to bring their wildest dreams to life via the lines I spit
but now I’ve come to realize that in the eyes of some I just can’t win
even in my absence there’s always some random asshole
that’s ever so happy to slander and bash my image
babbling asinine adjectives like conceited or classist
that is without the advantage of having had a more substantial conversation with me
than hello and goodbye
and I am absolutely flabbergasted by the fact
that the absence of this fundamental context
hasn’t stopped some of y’all so called intellectuals
from acting as if y’all have me pegged
well
if this is indeed the case
you may consider this next declaration a statement of the obvious
but for the edification of our non-omniscient guests
let me officially go on record regarding y’all as follows and I quote:
I find you sum total existence on this Earth superfluous
Your surface words are worthless
Regurgitated concepts diminishing in impactfulness
As soon as they travel past your bastard lips
And I could make you famous but in all honesty your names ain’t even worth mentioning as an afterthought
Besides, as the perpetrators of this malfeasance
Your ways and actions have severely diminished your humanity
Reducing you to more of a social ill
Therefore persona non grata
You shall now and forever hereafter be branded as envy
The living breathing embodiment of discontent
excited by the sight or perception of another’s superiority or good fortune
I know you well
I know that
loathing me is your only means of coping with a force that you can’t fence in
I know you well
I know that
as opposed to forging your own path you’d rather be parasitic
in attempts gain regain or retain attention
I know you ever
So
well
And you’d rather that I hate you than ignore you
Then at least you’d feel important
But I can ill afford to afford you that satisfaction
I am entirely too busy to be dragged in to your low rent melodramatic fantasy
Besides any idiot knows that mixing empty words
with chittlin circuit business sensibilities
begets penniless lyricists
I don’t take advice from broke poets so stow it
Go bestow your sense of decorum on some Joe Blow that don’t know no better
In essence
it’s a matter of perspective
If you’ve never walked in my shoes then don’t ever assume to correct me
This poetry thing may be a leisure pursuit for you
But it’s the air that I breathe
And ultimately
you may be content to continue contending in slams for bragging rights
Patronizing open mics
Or recording your less than average poetry CDs
Maybe even doing overblown features
To give people the illusion that you are really doing big things
But please
Don’t be peeved when you see me living bigger dreams
I wasn’t raised to be mediocre at anything
but I get it
low self image has some people thinking I’m attacking them
by simply being me
but please be clear
I will not diminish my abilities to give your spirits ease
Nor will I decrescendo to give you any sense of peace
Your lack of skill will continue to render you second fiddle
‘til I get up and leave this piece
And utilizing vulgar colloquialisms is typically something I choose not to do but
F.U.C.K.U.
Some may
Find the
Underlying lines
Confusing but try to
Keep
Up I’m
Friendly
Unless
Crabs
Kindle
Unrest I’m
Firmly
Undaunted though
Critics
Keep
Underrating me I’m a
Formidable
Undertaker, a
Calculating
Killer of the
Unworthy and this is my
Final
Ultimatum to
Cats
Kicking
Up
Fallaciously
Unnecessary
Confrontations with
Karega Ani
Unquote
|
Karega Ani Houston, Texas
Karega Ani is a performance poet/music producer from Houston, TX. For over a decade, he's been busy developing his unique style, living by the credo that diligent preparation must always precede presentation. Karega draws from a wide range of influences, from Hip Hop to straight ahead jazz, from gospel to funk, from down home blues to hot buttered Soul. He is timeless...and always on time. ... more
Streaming and Download help
If you like Karega Ani, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp