….the gap
between
l e t t e r s
is where
you need to look!
diffracting spaces
where nothing
is
as it should be
photons of
meaning
hurtling through
those
semantic
traumatic
signifiers
bent at
right angles
like
kennedy’s bullet
searching
for a victim
anywhere on
the grassy knoll
left becomes right
and the right never left
even though it
marched right
through
those lettered
passes
leftrightleftrightleftright
eyesinfront
and one foot in front of another
vote for a sister
or a brotha
dont matter
we still marching
into walls
and up onewaystreets
and into wallstreets

 

In support of Kanhaiya Kumar and the JNU protestors in India

…..we are with you kanhaiya
reaching out from our barred windows
all 2.5 million of US
we cross borders and seas
to smuggle in
wirecutters and metalfiles
and circuitbreakers
hidden deep
in these words and
outraged tears
we are with you
as you dance on this
multiheaded serpent
this global picture-in-picture-in-picture
of progress-in-democracy-in-prison-in-silence-in-fear
with you
shoulder to shoulder
as you scream over and over
abvp-is-obama-is-bush-is-modi
hand-in-hand with you
dear kanhaiya
as you christen
this revolution
with blood and urine
spilt in these corridors
of power
slick with the froth
of hindutva
with you always
as you stare down
this justice
turned
slippery and slick
and cold
until it is just / ice

….the sunset
dripping
off these leaves
pooling
into crimson
on the other side
of the tracks
how many
crimsons
and how many
crimesonsons
have seeped
under these
rails
derailing
progress
from
newark to dc
the shit
under these
corridors of power
is bloody
and mangled
and soft
and putrid
and oneofthesedays
that amtrak
gonna come
untracked
an that blood
red sunset
wont be glinting
off jus
my dead

and yet….

….iknowiknowiknow
my hop aint too hip
and my hip sure aint got hop
an yeah –
these stanzas
not gonna
make you stan’ up
an throw down
an most days
im jus stabbin
at keys
to release
pentup fuckedup
lockdup ovadatop
hidden
deep within
spittin
out words
that even mouth
cant roll tongue aroun
icepickin
into multiphased
reservoirs
where water an lava
are lovers
an madness
their cum stained
bed cover
but see here-
you still readin
and for that
i need to refer
you
to a proper class
in
poetry appreciation
but waitup!
before you
go
fafsa-in those loans
to pay for that course
I wanna telly’all
this is why
psychos sing
and
this is why
I keep wordstabbin
an yet…….

….16 not
14 shots you say?
but see
the first of those
missing two
did a weird thing
that day
rocketing
right through
laquan
and michael
and sandra
and mya
it gained turbo
boosters past
presidential
dronings on
about
gun control
crossing
humongous seas
of hypocricy
to cement
US policy
in the smashed open
heads of babies
and their mothers
it pulverized
bones
and teeth
and lungs
and livers
and staked
out antiterrorist
territory
by finally
embedding itself
in the eyesocket
of an afghani girl
studying in candlelight
for the gre
i should know
i csi-d that shit
grooveprinting it
to identify
every human soul
stamped
into its bloody casing
and the second
bullet?
its still in
the chamber
waiting
to blowback
and kill
the killer
dead

http://www.cnn.com/videos/politics/2016/01/05/obama-crying-gun-executive-action-sot.cnn

….no
you may not
get that toy gun
for christmas
and no
you cannot wear
that hoodie
and no
you cannot
walk that hood –
its gentrified
sentryfication
will
kill you dead
and no
you cannot
use strangulation
as an excuse
to reach
for your neck-
that blue clad
noose around it
is protected by
state rights
and no
you do not
deserve
to reach jail
you WILL
die in
thebackofthebus
and no
you cannot run
or put
yourhandsup
you WILL
be shot
14 times
inthe face
andthe
chest
andthe
ass
andthe
crotch
andthe
backofthehead
and no
you cannot
expect to live
if your transcendence
of race
and gender
and fear
gives them
a hardon
and no
your death
will not
spark a movement
or
new crow laws
because
your end
cannot be
contained by
a hashtag
or
a poem
and no
your death
will be nothing less
than
the death
of my baby
and yet…..

,,,,yes finally!
wrapping these
grades up
for in-titled
christ/masses
and
holi-day orgies
and
holy-night
hippo-cracies
red ink
and
red ribbons
tying together
highminded
resolutions for
newyears that are
oldyears that are
everyyears
unfulfilled promises
but hey!
who am i
to chuck bombs
through glass castles
sitting in
ivory
built of sawn-off
tusks lugged here
on dark backs
from
dark continents
my grade
only marks
your inability
to bring out
the sparkle
in those
elephant teeth
and yet……

….marchin always
lock stepped
with comrade’s feet
right through jails
and boardrooms
and into
presidential suites
yeah – i remember
when you
de-arrested Andre
only
to be arrested by Sheri
later that evening
it’s night here now
but you just
keep steppin
my friend
i’ll see you
on a picket line
on an evenin
soon

stay tuned

 

…..words titrated
through
pinched out
between ragged
heaving
breaths of days
concentrate hard
and every
once in a week
or a
month
or a century
a brownian
diffusion
of letters
will coalesce
and squeeze past
dripping
insensitively
incendiarily
onto
pre-elemental
particles
this
not god
is what precedes
the big bang
and yet….