SLAM

 

SLAM

I didn't quite come to win 

I came to bare witness to the re-booting of beginnings                                                                                                                                                                                          

To compost all of the leaves worn by Adams and Eves while leaving all the apples on all of the trees knowing that this stimulates more than a serpent's citrus 

I came to share the dancefloor with angels and cameo a saxophone among baritones and I wouldn't be complaining if I said that my only issue is the characteristic of campaigning because it's anaesthetic and reminds me of when we were six. Games weren't electronic and we'd play on a roundabout taking turns to grab this lolly stick and the essence of joy was being able to shout Got it, then dropping it and shouting “Dropped it” . 

Ok you had to be there or HAVE to be there as it's never not there as in here, like hair that's in here but not out there

 I came because the first time I ever performed I felt as though I came, so ascertain that I'm a rock'n roll celeb getting off at the buffet

And through the translucent bulbs the rays of Raa are glistening and I can see by the angle of your shoulders, you're listening  

You relate. You too probably shout to landscapes and wait a few disembowelled seconds for feedback and marvel when ethereal orchestras crescendo in sunsets just before they curtsy into a quiet 

I see stories 

I have epic three way battles with me because myself is elusive when a sand pit is a far more alluring place to bury my head than a routine update.

And, yes; I know. I too find more rewarding conversation with a sheet of lined A5 or technologically manifest 'my god' by confiding in ipod

I often wander through light with my fingers crossed

hoping that every now and then I could catch it turning randomly selected raindrops into abseiling prisms that jumble into one big snug family within  siblings

over-lapping lazing limbs for the sheer fun of it before they to do it all again

I know what's supposed to be authentic but when I grow up I really want to be me and with a horizon as disappointing as the godless landscape of Greenwich 

eagles soar when lions roar ' But who am I to unearth the channels of barely cerebral animamals with superficial eye contact too three dimensional to be interactive

whose voices drown in the ultra-sound of wailing witches while Christ their redeemer is appointed to just stand there and oversee crack epidemics in Rio

Nobody matters. From Rocafella to Bloggs they're just matter, but they harness centrifugal energy

so I'm as close to tearing myself free as the rings of Saturn have of coming up with a key while admittedly wondering, to be frank, if my existence is worth a wank

since our species running haywire in a hyper intelligent eco system prejudges by silhouettes

making it safer to be in the padded prison of your head within the dome of the living dead

That's why me and my Taurean self succumb to the I, parallel to planets without soil though I would meet in the middle if they'd rendezvous at the stream where words begin . We could mark the spot, Equinox , beyond the radioactive waves of the enslaved where I would neither swim nor wade with the former whose freedom borders on following orders like hooded executioners 

whose one-eyed masters want merely the blood sweat and tears of all of your years 

whose 'two cents' worth' deprives me of nothing but serenity till I well like a broken penis gushing with remedial blood in alliance with unbowed defiance you might presume

a black thing ....but that's that wing once deemed punk by fashionisters or a chip on the shoulder by western historians as it angers the wicked that the good can be clever  

Of ten thousand religions nothing feels better than this creed of Mecca

This telepathic union sewn with the virus of single mindedness

Our overground underground village of genetic Israelites whose thinking is so autonomous it's  synonymous with each one of us once wondering what's wrong with us save for this seminar of renegade microbes plugged in by our frontal lobes like free sparring gladiators and even if I'm wrong this shit is cathartic

Its oblivion like mother's hugs I dissolve in the grip of its harmonies 

you applaud accordingly as purely as the ultimate gift of her kiss while I get to transmit vibrations with my surrogate siblings of 7th consciousness 

and times I thinks y'all could be my shrinks 

I could trust you with things I only ever shout to the sky : Nothing being punished that isn’t malicious and I concede I'd let you see me bleed and not regret it cause it is therapeutic and I realise that all hate stems from the lack of control over when it'll all end

I can spout my instinctive observations 

in the heritage of socialist rage against privilege as a heritage 

Of the nazi petro-pharmaceutical cartel's investment in making kids precocious

Of the insanity of the new world order making us cry when all we want is to be warm beyond icy divisions of equated class systems 

beyond bogus categorisations 

ripping so much time from underneath us that the crude oil of poetry bleeds through the surviving gene jostling for oxygen like layered petals 

Secrets secreted through the curve of riddles 

as true as spider silk

I came to wade in words. 

Real words in real language lending life to reality

From swag bags of processed sonnets to re-hashed ebonics , 

simplistic and anarchistic

bouncing off of stratospheric boundaries 

like inter stella bumper cars but with stars

so when they raid lost arks of ancient arts this'll be a landmark

of non-subscribing vibe-ing DNA 

transforming logic

from the laziest generic perspective to the most acutely microscopic 

even endorsing blinking during bouts of rigid thinking 

 

Cause you know you don't need words to be heard
but it's a crime not to have passion 
You know there was fuck all wrong with Van Gogh

 

The shortest substantial poem was Adam 'ad 'em matured like red wine by Muhammad Ali 

The poignant condensed  

Me We

I come on a Tuesday night respite to swan dive into embraces as dark as space is

illuminated by the radiance deflecting off your faces and I'm surfing rainbows 

vaulting the assault course of procrastinations and asymmetric war with self and all of its radius

I came to graze my soul in the roam of a rich landscape 

Doing my part in an encounter with counterparts by offering this encrypted prayer. Amen. A salaam alaykum 

Namaste. Shalom. Hotep

Inity .