Air Conditioned Unconditioning

7/18/07

Institutions are built for reasons
For purposes that serve our nation
Institutions of metal detectors
Plexiglas, bars, jail cells and guards
Institutions of fail or pass, yards of
DNA samples, stretched skin cells and cell phone bars
Teaching us conditioning us
Leading us toward a goal
Common to the greater good
Beating us until the message is properly relayed
And our small place is understood
How many leaders are made here?
How many remain that were able
To unravel what was untaught?
How many can see through walls, Walk differently
Perpendicular to the broadcasted thought?
Carefully conditioned us
Crafted carefully to create for them
Institutions of mental slavery
Start inside of their walls
Then for us repeats within

Street Music
10/31/07

My mind ain’t playin tricks on me… aw damn homie.
I do my dirt all by my lonely,
This is for my dead homie
This all comes from the same source, by itself,
No vocal representation is needed,
Only screeches of tires,
Whip sounds of shoestrings wrapping around telephone wires
The nerve one would have to judge as insufficient in terms of
Tempos, rhythms and melodies,
In fear they would perspire
To strand alone some transpire to achieve-an-understanding-is-heard
In all types in any kind of hour.
Ringing sounds of the polluting factories horns for lunch, &
Ending of casual protested disturbances
Choir calls, Catholic Church bells
Lullaby from a near by passing ice cream truck
Mockingbirds observing the confusion join along in unison,
Daily patterns, interactions & such.
The sounds & songs of children at play,
Hand games, playing the dozens, double Dutch
Melodies sung rhythmically,
Changing from generation to the next,
Adding validity to the life of the moment relative to the voice singing &
Hands clapping in their context.
A classic car passes by holding four 15 inch speakers in the trunk,
Rattling windows, vibrating the nature surrounding the spectacle
As it magnificently possesses
The girls playing stop their songs of jump and joy, strike attitude immediately sing along
I even hear the drum from these streets in these… lonely only me walking down
These Streets
It surrounds me & forces, coerces my heart to beat differently than it does alone
This music, Street Music,
Improvised organized for soulful understandings of everyday life,
Not orchestrated one beat sheet music, for a conductor could no way do it,
Replicate the spontaneous pace of what happens immediately, right in your face.
Sound of the gunshot reggae bumbaclot beating causing your hips to sway or
Dangerous ricochet from another bullet missing it’s target becoming dangerously stray,
Like a misled child or baby later plagued by his fatherless misdirection,
Across drives on his lap a 380 sits strapped with extra clips with bulletproof vest
Across his chest for protection,
In the streets he might defeat himself at least he gains sought affection
Engulfed in the moments and street music.