Carry yourself in. They’ll name you over and over, and make bridges from the ugliest parts of your body. Give them their content. They’ll mill over it when you die or maybe, cast it all into oblivion. Who were you born to be? A consolation for a mind. A problem. A question and a song. […]Read More CARRY YOURSELF IN
Rose 1 I’ve always thought I wouldn’t live long. Primarily, because I’ve always known that living for my self wouldn’t ever be enough. Somehow or for some reason I’ve always felt that if I was to live it would always have to be under the auspices and authority of being something for someone else. That […]Read More The Roses
“Spit, Lil’ Cuz…” – Qadir Jones (aka Hellstar), my beautiful and brilliant autodidactic cousin “… Keep it Real.” – John Gillespie Sr (aka Unorthodox), my complex and clever autodidactic father These were the maxims that marked my introduction to philosophical study. Spit: /spit/ (verb) – to rap, to make words make melodies, to […]Read More We Cyphered Our Symposiums.
Hello Friends, They who hold me, they who know me, who read and console me. The friends who will understand why I wrote this, this way, who will understand why I smile in the day and cry throughout the night. They who listen to me as I listen to them. They who care. They who […]Read More Questions for Friends // What happens on Earth, Stays on Earth
Enduring just to say we’re enduring feeling the bruises on my skin I just want to relieve the torture I don’t know how all these things should end. Maybe that’s all that this is after all: trauma and bondage and joy maybe that’s all you can feel after all: just trauma and bondage and joy […]Read More Anti-Poem(s)
And it’s a permanent scar, you can’t forget who you are It don’t matter where you go, they say we are who we are When you cook in the raw and you’re bad from the start You as cold in your heart, you as cold as your heart And it’s a permanent scar… – Future, […]Read More Nothing is, what Nothing has… Let the Niggas Create: Trap, Rock n’ Roll and Cultural Radicalism
when you get older you will sit with histories that converge at the nexus point of where your body meets your mind and you will try to make sense of it. but sense is a trap sense can be made of anything, of all things of every thing. instead learn to sit with your senses. […]Read More If The World Collapsed Tomorrow, Whose Tears Will We Hear First