Friday, 11 October 2013

That boy has a drinking probnlem

Cultural sponge:

anomie, go homie,
a to z
raised wild in my own count-ree

            still diasporic
still euphoric
with a jazz groove
my niche is folkloric

raised by a poor brooke
by a single mother
I talk Rumi with Moslems
and walk the path of the lover

the clatter of kitchenware,
the swears of the linecooks
the core of an apple
and stories about crooks
old album covers, sax blown in Spring
and these are some of my favourite things

I smell like hickory
my friend an Iraqi
calls me habibi
when he tokes from the weedi
he talks like graffiti

I didn't have a culture
I had a Star Wars collection
distant planet mastermind
adventure projection
when I got older I dropped the specifics
now I beatbox with Chinamen
because we all gotta kick it

hailed from the East
comes my girl named Na
when its time to party we all gotta ga
she once asked if I was tired
I was like "Bssh, na"
now we travelin' the road down to Arkansas

sometimes on the streets
I meet poets from a past life
I try to switch direction
keep my head down like an ex-wife
sometimes I'm successful
others cut my path like a dull knife

they're all positive, fantastic
try to stay contemporary
annoying, Boombastic
try to stay literary
wanna talk the classics
try to change the world
but only looking past it

they all look disappointed
when I tell them that I rub meat
they're sure its a phase
and I should try to stay upbeat
or they act smug and say they're elite
the reviews are in and they've got gold feet

well, fuck 'em all
The E nd

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