Estas canciones son / These songs are…
How is it – are these
places, artistic and affluent,
so “chill”, so “cool”, yet
so mechanationally White
Enumeration of safe
locations,
its a short list,
white and fey ones,
fey & Fair- skinned
obliviites,
all lottos in yr favor
I wonder what dead animal
ive ever become;
the god of me sits forever
side-saddle
at the edge of sleep –
no thought may attain
sanctuary here
My future self makes
a playlist based on me
sitting still in cafes
when it is so very nice
outside
in the early evening
springtime air
that my stuffy selection
of locus
seems almost shameful
Im all dead Olympians
before they could
ever live
I have no place found
yet in LA to lay
my throat in offering
A jester – here i am –
with a scintillating
red and blue dot
for a face and for
a head
–Take away the
powers abusers wish they
really had
(but still fucking yourself up)
Drums echo from the past
living in the gutters
along the roadways
of the brain
All is honky-dory
with a dwindling gasping
swath wishing every nigger dead
I blanch when i see
me coming,
dunno if ive ever blushed
in my whole life
Im red and black;
between the lines
my brown filthy arse
is advertised
and placed along
the wide bland way
of the hit parade
I won’t die in english
It feels traitorous(?)
but sometimes so does
breathing breath at all
and these frequencies
are all inside the guffaw
of the constant Fall
The prescribed god
has made joke and
travesty of my Sex
I see now we have
to sin in order to Win,
as far as winning goes
in the whitewashed world
in which we are constantly
batting away chains