by Douglas Kearney and Bao Phi (listen and download here)
DK | BOTH | BP |
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We meet at the crossroads of convenience stores in a galaxy of bulletproof glass, chanting a battle hymn of broken English. |
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We remix | dynamite | |
and bullwhips. Pull sips from tears in the crow’s feet scratching black eyes. |
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I said: we remix |
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dynamite | ||
and bullwhips | ||
into poetry tattooed on bamboo splinters and the walls of Angel Island. |
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Tattooed on tattered bandanas and black skies. |
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We are flaring signatures of arms and legs names flying over Chinatown gutters. Urban hurricanes sweeping streets like Jet Li to a chophop beat. Scissor kick heaven and called craps cuz we cipher in the parking lots of 7-11s. |
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We are | ||
Shaolin dancers | hi-yaahhing | |
to breakbeats | to find the Dao of Hip Hop, | |
no poo | and motherfuck you if you see me as a destination. |
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Steel spine of America massaged by yellow fingers in the west. The iron backbone stroked by black hands in the east. |
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Call | and response | |
of hammers | and sparks. | |
The breakbeats of broken backs bent under the glinting eyes of lamb-skinned jackals extracting silk and cotton from our bowels with pitchforks— replacing them with opium and crack. But we drank the pot liquor of stewing rage, quickened with the ginseng stored in the hearts of ancestors, and carved poems into the forehead of your masks. We carved poems into your clubs embossed on our skulls. We carved poems into the throats of your children. |
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We carved poems into the margins of your history book. Carved poems into our own eyes so we could see ourselves without you. We carved ourselves homunculi cuz for too long you sold Kung Fu-grip, big-lipped representations of big dick rapists and dickless yellow peril, sterile, sexless castrations. |
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We meet at the crossroads of convenience stores in a galaxy of bulletproof glass, chanting a battle hymn of broken English. |
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We meet as Afro/Oriental as fools flap they dentals but lack fundamentals. We knock out occidentals cuz we re/call the call of hums |
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and ancient names | shouted and sung | |
over indigo | and sugarcane. | |
We flying first class in boom boxes jostling for space on white train dreamscapes. |
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We paint wildstyles | on rice paddies | |
and Caddy chassis. Hurl our tongues like meteors. Intersect at Kung Fu and Boom Bap. We jungle babies in eagle talons pop-locking free. And at night, we reach for black hair and love our people with every ounce of venom we can pour into our pens. |
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We be the bumpin bibimbob b-boy Buddhists be-bopping butterscotched colored hip hop; best believe I don’t need weed cuz I was born chinky eyed. |
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Get it? | We are the veins on subway trains. | |
The new urban version of the transcontinental. | East or west? Fuck that, we center our tongues, |
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empty full lungs. | We the Bruce Lee, | |
the Muhammad Ali | of the Boxer Rebellion | |
of the Black Panthers | holding scripts inside fists and knocking fits of fury, our throats coated by exploitation and our feet are calloused by stories. We are taking back the beat. We are taking back the tattoos. We are taking back our dicks. We are tuning out the hype by turning up the breath of ancestors and turning back pages of yesteryears. |
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We meet at the crossroads of convenience stores in a galaxy of bulletproof glass, chanting a battle hymn of broken English. |
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I believed the megaphones. I called with bullets and bricks. |
I believed the telecasts radiating storefront stick-ups and illiteracy. |
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My hatred strafing through palm fronds and storefronts. |
My hatred cutting like ice with cold stares and misdirected fists |
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burning “justice” from yellow husks like huts. | Burning love from the pale remains of honorary whiteness. Pale fires of Lost Angels, yellow black browns paint red while the guards in blue stand watch by the whites. The resolution will not be televised, the resolution will not be televised. Who will be left alive |
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to cut the bodies from the tree limbs, free them from the rubble, raise them from police backseats, release them from beneath the wheels of jeeps. Who will bring them back with voodoo and reincarnation? |
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Bring back for get-back? | ||
Bring back for get-back. | Never forget that. | |
Do we need to get martyred | before we start this? Do we need |
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to get martyred | before we start this? | |
Do we need to get martyred before we start this? |
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Do we need to get martyred before we start this? |
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Do we need to get martyred before we start this? |