MY ENVIRONMENT
Vs 1.. Shorty (shorty) rock (rock) standing on the corner (corner),
hustling them rocks (rocks) know he don't wanna (wanna),
be like his peers having fun playing sports,
but he got a mother w/ a crack habit to support (port).
Little (little) man (man) big drug runner (runner),
very little plans (plans) living in a slumber (slumber),
big hopes, little dreams trapped on the corner
with the rats and the cats selling that marijuna (wanna).
Baby (baby) girl (girl) started off good (good),
every (every) day (day) walking thru the hood,
met a guy who seemed nice seemed right so it seemed like,
two years later baby girls in that street life.
Cause Seemed (seemed) like nice man got a plan (plan),
shorty (shorty) rock (rock) eating out his hand (hand),
little (little) man’s (man's) bringing in his money
and baby girls got a baby girl in her tummy (tummy).
Chs.. Imma (imma) product of my environment,
I import the product into my environment,
I be on the block till the cops come a firing
cause I support the conduct of a survivalist
Imma,-product of my environment,
you want it then I'm selling it you got it then I'm buying it,
I don't got the elements to worry bout retirement
cause I support the conduct of a survivalist.
Vs 2' Young (young) brother (brother) born in the suburbs,
resembling a carpet eater, so they call him rug burn,
wanna be a thug (thug), so he gets a hammer,
plus a colored bandana now he's caught behind the slammer (slammer).
Young (young) brothers younger brother was a follower,
big brother boxed young brothers brother followed up,
overdose of halo and grand theft auto,
almost left without a halo or a chance to see tomorrow (morrow).
Teenage mama (mama),
2 little children by 2 baby fathers (fathers) in the same building
building up a bad rep, for be-ing a ho
said she wanted kids early now she's reaping what she so (so).
So (so) many (many) souls (souls) lost (lost)
in the (in the) struggle buried^alive without a shovel,
cause young (young) brother and young brothers brother
both boxed cause of lack of love from teenage mother (mother).
Chs:Vs 3..--This is what its like in the ghetto
where the only ones who make it are the ones who never settle,
where the clouds are always gray no trees or green meadows,
only greenery, scenery's the weed that we pedal (pedal) (pedal).
-Kick pushing flipping kush while the kids looking,
-stuck firm upon the strip like a pin cushion,
-chicks whips kicks all gotta be good looking,
-but not too good cause in the hood you'll get your shhhh tooken.
-Tattoos, thoughts captured in smoke capsules,
-broken bottles liquor makes the struggle so attractive,
-see the hood will keep your soul captive,
-till the reaper soul snatches, that's why we're so un proactive.
-So imagine if your soul (soul) was traveling,
with no physical or emotional attachment
this is (this is) (this is) real life this aint a movie no attractions,
-stay in tune cause in this life there is no closed captions.
SoSoon
................
"We cannot segregate
THE HUMAN HEART
from the ENVIRONMENT
outside us and say that
once one of these is
reformed everything will
be improved. Man is
organic with the world.
His inner life molds the
ENVIRONMENT and
is itself also deeply
affected by it. The one acts
upon the other and every
abiding change in the life
of man is the result of
these mutual reactions."
BAHAI WRITINGS
................
IAM NEW YORK CITY
i am new york city
here is my brain of hot sauce
my tobacco teeth my
mattress of bedbug tongue
legs aparthand on chin
war on the roof insults
pointed fingers pushcarts
my contraceptives all
look at my pelvis blushing
i am new york city of blood
police and fried pies
i rub my docks red with grenadine
and jelly madness in a flow of tokay my huge skull of pigeons
my seance of peeping toms
my plaited ovaries excuse me
this is my grime my thigh of
steelspoons and toothpicks
i imitate no one
i am new york city
of the brown spit and soft tomatoes
give me my confetti of flesh
my marquee of false nipples
my sideshow of open beaks
in my nose of soot
in my ox bled eyes
in my ear of Saturday night specials
i eat ha ha hee hee and ho ho
i am new york city
never change never sleep never melt
my shoes are incognito
cadavers grow from my goatee
look i sparkle with shit with wishbones
my nickname is glue-me
take my face of stink bombs
my star spangled banner of hot dogs
take my beer can junta
my reptilian ass of footprints
and approach me through life
approach me through death
approach me through my widow's peak
through my split ends my
asthmatic laugh approach me
through my wash rag
half anklehalf elbow
massage me with your camphor tears
salute the patina and concrete
of my rat tail wig
face up face down piss
into the bite of our handshake
i am new york city
my skillet-head friend
my fat-bellied comrade
citizens
break wind with me
JAYNE CORTEZ
................
POETRY IS THE GREATEST
FORCE ON EARTH.
(André Breton)
Poetry is language in its highest and
most far-reaching form—language at
once wide awake and dreaming,
unrestricted by the fetters of ideology,
rationality, power, commerce, common
sense, or other agencies of the Reality
Principle. "The day's armor is laid aside
in the apples of sleep"
(Penelope Rosemont).
No mere "self-expression," poetry is an
activity of the mind inseparable from the
exaltation of life. More often than not it
is also a manifestation of the most philosophically
rigorous humor. "WHEN ONE KNOWS"
(Jacques Vaché)
Poetry demonotonizes so-called
ordinary language by challenging all
forms of accepted usage—that is, by
provoking new and daring relations
between words, and setting them
loose in the free play of desire. "The
tempest unleashes an alphabet /
letters fall through the
apertures of crazy angles / to
spell out the future"
(Nancy Joyce Peters).
Poetry deimpossibilizes human
freedom by letting the alchemical
fire of unheard-of images melt the walls
of reified consciousness, thereby
at one stroke abolishing the slavery
of the mind and raising the stakes in
the struggle to resolve
the contradiction between everyday
life and the Marvelous. "The stone I
have tossed into the air
of chance shall come to you one great
day and exfoliate the original scarab,
the carbuncle of delights, the pomegranate
inviolate, the sonorous
handkerchief of the Comte de Saint-
Germain, all the reinvented perfumes
of ancient Egypt, the map
of the earth in the Age of Libra when
the air shall distribute our foods"
(Philip Lamantia).
Those who have the sense of
poetry know that
the most radical kind of
individual self-revelation
and revolutionary social
transformation advance as
one, hand in hand.
"Tightrope of our hope"
(Suzanne Césaire).
Mobilized by love—mad,
relentless, uncompromising,
and, as ever, surrealism's surest
method of knowledge—poetry
is the unfettered imagination
opening the way to the
unfettered life.
Franklin Rosemont-
There
is no
solution
outside
love.
(André Breton)
................