blood bruises and blisters…

Yaw and Jam

To yaw and jam…
Your paradiddles and ratamacues are killing me

Don’t be here for me:
Sugar Sugar and John Barley Corn Must Die

In susurrations and cackles
In blood bruises and blisters

Blister in the Sun 
What fun

What the fuck is wrong with you?
With your gasping for air 

And your Exorcist tongue flickers
Stop it. 

This is the land of burnt popcorn
And Dr. Pepper droughts… there’s a paucity, man


… because america…

(and i ain’t talking no tin man or sister golden hair) 
no free is wind blowing on this highway

just strange fruit swingin’ 
in the land of of the free — to kick yer’ ass 
and the home — to pilfer ur loot…

kick out the jams (and yaw) mother———

“But what’s needed in this moment
is unmixed confession
of our nation’s sin,
deep and indefensible.”

— Nikki Grimes / “You Still Dream”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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