to be read to night 1 of Ta-Ku Nights for Nujabes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Fp1viiRJnw)
it’s cold dark and grey the sun still shines, illuminates, leaves turn golden yellow and they burn, back in the vacuum, the churn ceaselessly yearning to be free in the epitome of stupidity post turn of so-called century, they whorl and wonder what does it mean to be me?
no apocalypse could free them more than the free dumb of being set loose from the mother branches, its natural, in the swirl they dance, making a human wonder why we all have to die, i sigh… deep into the shadows of the new york times, feeding my mind and takin a shit at the same time.
in there,
i see the sheriff with his military hair, pressed into a shadow of tank, benefiting from obamacare's ex-military hardware, armored with the water they happy destroy, supposedly for dollars, in the middle of the night they deploy, and engage,
similar to another golden hair buffoon now lampooned as a hero or genocidal nero, custard or the monkey, it don’t matter.
throughout the times, they appoint their judges to pass criminal judgement on their authorized agents, supposedly gone rogue, when structural violence is in vogue, meanwhile they makin money off the same railroads to the mother lodes free-d up by genocidal beaters, now and then serving jail time for over-exuberant accomplishment of duty, getting corked and sporked by a system pretending to be the sole arbiter of self worth: when the president gonna stand trial for his genocidal smiles? something tells me never, they too clever (except maybe shrub in myanmar), wrapped in a systemic cloak of sadistic polite pleasure and driving fancy cars, taking measures of men, women and children, pressing them into chess or checkers, choose your adventure, either slave, worrier, warrior or whatever, in any case its better to get divided based on topical identities than analyze the weaponry of the mind keeping us divided and in line.
maybe they smart like a shark shirt, and we dumb fighting against oblivion, while they dining on champagne de domain du jour and oysters rom the seas they polluted while we worked the job convinced that we had to do it, poison our brains with the pain of contradictions, senses obliterated by our own convictions of right and wrong inherited from the strong and the weak, fuck, sometimes i feel like it don’t even do no good to speak, the human animal is bunch of soft cannibals suckin on the souls of those lower and higher on the stolen totem pole. or the hope burns that we can learn from history that we are all equally free to pursue our visions of wizardy or stupidity, or else get stomped by the speculative real estate market and 6000 years of hierarchical nonsense: in heat, blood, and water we born, the fire next time goes on, and so does the war, on and on and on.
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