Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Thus Spoke the Bullet

I wasn't going to put this up, but Angie Hart asked me to, so how could a youngblood say no? First performed at Liner Notes 2011.


Thus Spoke the Bullet


Thus Spoke the Bullet


I am him.

My flight spans a breath but ends a life.

I am him.

I contain within my gut starlight and supernovas,

fireworks, eloquent don'tgiveafuckery, origins and ends

balled into lead and jacketed in copper.

I am him.

I enter without knocking, fuck without asking,

I am the slave and the master, shade and light, craze and care, rhythm and rupture, the rapture.
I am the hovering God, tethered by trajectory.
Pearl shanked with an infrared bow tie when you elected me
to dream the dream of trenches
to sing the hymn of drivebys,
to whistle over liquor stained curbs,
podiums, ballrooms
and across the red lines etched by powerful men.

I am him
so listen.

Omar Musa, I have loved you from afar.
My wild, conceited brother,
I have grown enamoured of the spearheads on your tongue and your tinderbox mind.
I have travelled far to meet you,
sailing through the seamless and arcane darkness to greet you.
You and I are pilgrims destined for each other
since you first jotted a line or found an audience to speak to.
Who sent me I cannot say,
and such things are not important anyway so rejoice with me
as I pin red orchids on your lapel,
as your walls are embroidered with rubies and garnets.
My brother- this is the ground zero of you,
the place for an altar, to exalt, to anoint,
to embrace one other just as you knew we would.

This is the rapture of beasts.

Thus spoke the bullet,
before we stepped forward to meet each other
like eager twins, like kin,
separated in the cradle.

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