u haven’t written anything. ive been dancing. hows chicago? i dont know...– who is negrosunshine?
waiting on red
beats knockin on the platform brothers spitting opposin knowledge mixed and weaved what i knew to be two du bois - washington x - king switched scratched remixed out of comfortable classrooms in the “real”? past the divide i argued was non-existent new languages on old and new theories been writing nothing novel. novel nothingness just spittin reflections realizin there is much for...
its a twisted game i play with the wind sampling riffs to catch your voice …………..floating across………… turning with every(thing) blown …….opening doors……………………. sifting through whispers in crowded rooms cataloguing laughter. mapping patterns. checking against memories ...
we gon get real juke joint in this muthafucka right quick– erykah badu
reflection. late at night. lost in my head.
at the opening of the summer i found myself lost in the light of the day. hour. moment. picking up pieces of myself i thought i had lost somewhere back in the year’s fall & winter. spring time dreams experienced with some summer heat. finding me. it was all me and my body. blocking out memories and hopes of one boy. pushing away whispers and pleas of another. i wrote about my remedy....