1. |
Black Skin, White Masks
04:06
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naked and nameless the truth
disabusing the naive and neutral
nigh this uniquely unnatural
navel gazing unstable raving
nevermore Nagasaki
nuclear as the family
nonstop these notoriously big
novel invisible men
their nooks and hovels as
up the nostrils these narcotics
navigating inwardly nostos
of the navy spitting N words
into the sea
the nomenclature under N
replete with nigger words,
nonconformistical neologistic words.
here came the KKK
painting over these paintings
in the cave, that matrix
named in Plato's debate
these shadows these demons at play
as their delusions and the reason of day
lock horns, parsing the world's verse
from Mars's surface, these white hoods
were once darker, diverser,
this white congregation chanting
rap faster white pastor and act blacker
supplant the black rappers
and transport their asses back
to Madagascar. those understood
as dark matter and energy
his Satanic majesty let it bleed.
this lactose intolerant pescatarian
this black soul admonishing those aryans
this man woke as God hip to Berryman's
application of blackface to his fair skin.
a little rock of crack in his pipe
a little later fainting this passionate Christ.
the newspapers painting it black and white,
microphonic, riding along this Whyte Ave on his bike.
reading Black Skin, White Masks tonight
dealing crack to his kin and white trash alike
his raps provoked by Frantz Fanon delight
as the grass his smokes, a William Gaddis on the mic.
he's a metaphor for our excess our habits our hubris
precious as the metal ores and plastic in our computers.
he's a man banned from reddit as the idiot.
bananas his saga this epic as the Aeneid
though Virgil's pals with Caesar Augustus
dig these media deconstructed
this news this Al Jazeera discussing his
state approved art
correctly putting the horse before the cart
and stepping in unison these nazis
these hippies hallucinating oddities
illicitly lucidly dreaming illogically.
(every word contributes to a picture of reality
the rapper distributes, redistributes the reality
into surreality, using the language incorrectly
correctly disseminating revenge
on the manufacturers of consent, the Bill Cosbys,
manufacturers of consent, the disc jockeys
who never play the best rap of today,
that Lil Ghostwriter we so need.)
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2. |
The Dead Father
02:33
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3. |
Th' Soul
02:32
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4. |
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5. |
Paradiso
04:31
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6. |
Aleph
04:03
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7. |
Black Athena
02:33
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8. |
Yellow Dogs
03:08
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8. Yellow Dogs
(peeling this clementine, I can almost remember
a simpler time, when there were no words for orange
and everything orange was called red or yellow,
are you hip? dig, there was no orange)
these craven bores depend upon
the salient gore of this X-rated life
painted orange, this red delicious delight
these naked whores peddling entertainment at the Sony Store
whether hated as the phonies or
sacred as David Bowie your
dust is blended with Jimi Hendrix's, whether poor
or rich as the metal detected on the shore
those Metallicas and Tools of yore
anciently before
the table of the lords.
where Ossington and Bloor intersect,
philosophies as pure as the wetness collecting under this drip ...
the best Vedic texts disseminated among the literature silvern and velour.
these raps opulent and godly
free as the bat is
black magic, throwing knives swallowing swords
imploring these pirates all aboard
deplorable crimes, these modern wars
these drones and droids orange noise poor by choice these radical pacifist
girls and boys and trans activists
certain of the nicely handled randomness
nerdily voiced and rapped in a candlelit
world antique like Sanskrit in the hourglass
the metaphysique of spacetime, its curvature
nonunique as brain rhymes with brain
identical our identity as the wholly ghostly
healthful our mentally ill souls as lonely as the dragon in a tailspin
*
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9. |
Inferno
02:57
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10. |
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11. |
Gender Trouble
02:10
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12. |
Minor Ghost
04:55
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13. |
Lil Courtjester
03:36
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14. |
Loop Quantum Gravity
04:07
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Andrew Mbaruk & Th' Mole Vancouver, British Columbia
Mbaruk, rap poet, of the metropolitan, unceded Coast Salish territories.
Mole, beat poet, of the rural, unceded Nisenan territories.
Contact Andrew Mbaruk & Th' Mole
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