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Black
Bird say,
“I
RISE IN FIRE!”
&
That’s an old
Warning
The
song can misinform
The
ignant
So they think beauty
Is sweet and passive
I
seen a tragic-book
Of them that heard the wail
Went into a trance and got down
But they got tricked by
Who told them they was here
Before Is, and revised the sawed to sword
De scribed the rite as were’ds and the pen
For pigs a reality they used as their thing,
Understanding became hype, towers destiny,
Now Right was the future a serial killer
Might a club, as foot or arm, like cupid black puck slapped across the ice
and the
Goalie defends the gold from love now flat and made of rubber beaten
By northern Negroes with long boomerangs.
The
Wail became the gray cry
Of a nigger on an Alabama cross
Black from the arm he had none and they
Left him one the other cut off
Billed as the double cross
A duplex mythology knowing
Their own disclaimers for civilization
It’s
fishy, they said when they got their symbols from
Zildjian the Turk, a jerk servant of the disease to the west
A bandinage for the germs brought with the Weise Man
The bandits plant Mandrake, culture, colony, look here
Under the micro scope, germs, virus questions spreading
Called beauty or booty its June like crabs we are near the sea
Ob scene, we come back for what we saw, re sources, salsa and the names we
took
From the yes, the eyes of the sailors, and their bag of stories the sould
reborn
Each morning, as if night died, nigh leaves for here, eve waits for the Ad
Man
So
the cross is believing the truth
Is
fishy, and Friday, we kill our selves
As Freedom. No here.
We dumh. Go aft
Before the latter Marley sings Redemption Songs
And our hands lose their cunning
Our tongues cleave to the roof
Of the ticking.
Cross
Ware
A hanged Afro Cuban
Revolutionary
Black Arab, who has Shango
Play his song, call his name.
We
seen Charlie Parker one night
Smoking a joint on Clinton Ave
Sitting on a garbage hamper
With Lorraine, the piano player
Not his mother or his wife
He rose on fire from the flamethrower
Of Jimmy Dorsey on television
The Whore of Babylon
Ugly with Revelation
Stuffing money
Into all her openings
Bird,
he looked a thousand years old
Was sold lived doped looking for Max
In the movies nodding peeing in northside
Phone booths. Black bird,
Tommy Dorsey
Played the eclectric death music
And Bird rose out the joint his ass on fire
Swearing he would come back, Dick, dig it,
Jack, he called us Jim rising where John dug him
From where they exiled him in the money jungle. |