Circa 1993 – 2014 [4 poems]

Circa 1990 Three (the sound of a revolution)

“Now what you hear is not a test”
…it’s the hiphopera
Everybody’s swaying to what the deejay’s playing
One dude grinding with now his 12th honey thought he was r. kelly
The cut just happened to be “freaks of the industry”
By shock g. and his better half & other personality
Humpty, who is wearing michael jackson’s real nose
& the mack’s old clothes
With two turntables, the deejay is the band
I remember lord fader saving the world last night
With nothing but his hands, some wax
& a crew of M.C.s seven deep
There’s knowledge reigns supreme over nearly everyone,
Rakim & public enemy’s #1 son,
L.L., melle mel, that brother abstract & gifted unlimited rhymes universal
Moving one nation on a groove
As the chronograph choreographs
The impatient pulse of the populace
Controlled solely by the sound
Of a revolution still in progress.


Circa 1990 Three Pt. II: On Tour with the Moon

for Madam X

 

as night swallows the sun

and

drowns her tongue in the sweet suite

of interstellar drums   she

licks

infinity onto

the blackground of my mind.

with her

inspiration   mine able

hands skilled in the postmodern

malice

of turntable instrumentalism rage

silently with driftlessly discreet limbs

fingers

runnin wind sprints in jet streams

of consciousness around two

plastic

orbs evolvin at

thirty-three and a

third

revolutions per minute

speakin thru tongues of well-versed

drums

transform shadows of

the past into rays

of

rhythmoods refractin doldrums into

shouted hums   sermons into song. from beat

to

beam. from optic noise

to aural scene. as

mine

fingers fandango along

the tracts of her maze thru days of night

and dawn draws the blinds of light

the

sun sprouts like a dandelion

in a frenzy of blue.

and

the hands of time etch unconscious

treasures into a cloud of what

could

b/rain as i play at rest.

sleepwalkin thru winter sadness

into

the palms of summer  madness.

surrounded by the temptations

of

spring and the thoughts that they sing

come summertime in ballads

to

fall, leavin behind crescent moons.

 


Circa 2000: Reminiscence

Raised up with the rhythmic
instincts of mayfield, marvin
& P-Funk

i rode the love, peace
& Soul Train
through city, country, city –

excavating the articulations
of orchestration lost ( then
found again) in translation

when the 80s came and went
digging in the crates of M.F.S.B.
(mother, father, sister, brother)

looking for the perfect beat
in search of the perfect blend
of knowledge, wisdom & understanding.


Circa 2014: Survival

 for the Citizens of the Universe

i hear survival being spun in textones of lifelong anecdotes

adorned by 21st century griots, soul companions of the cosmos

telling time, “light years in time, ahead of our time”

by word of mouth

Shining through an azure blurred by the sea of anonymous faces i see

all around me

Like the sun

none necessarily standing out but all remembered

somehow. & i know, when gabriel’s horn blows, we best be ready to go.

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