Thursday, October 12, 2017

ball street jailout volume three

it was sort of cute
run away from the world
i got nowhere to go

i appreciate white people
they attune me to "the reality"
i resent reality or
i have a paid subscription
thus my perspective is invalid

black people still have to
prove they are worth a damn

i forgive every white girl
i have ever fucked

i assured you i was worth a shit
i convinced you that the president's father
was a CIA asset in the nineteen seventies
i did not expect you to believe me

i shout in my sleep
never in my dreams
everything is so dangerous

i threw a rock at a little boy
on his bike because he was going
too fast

strange things grown men
call transgressions

Sunday, December 4, 2011

super k

"leave the
radio on

this car is not
a democracy"

the thump
of my belly

hustlers round
the corner

who look but
never listen

the color
of money

"there should be
a western union
in every ghetto"

Monday, November 28, 2011


head nod
sophists that
insist to exist
sincerity that gives
me the creeps

considerate, deliberate
I am
all of this

a warm penetration
warning shot
who forgets
to feed himself

sour meat
gone bad in
the goo of
her womb

I was never meant
to last this long

lock down

trapdoor slum lord
and the interloper
who makes dollars
after hours

perfect strangers

Friday, July 23, 2010

Situation Normal; All Fucked Up

a future that foretold me
to fuck off and die
i am in a fix

of the comfort
mothers best provide
verily, a lone lady
whose womb, this undoing

of moments which
amend, confuse
that lay me adrift
against these times