shrine in black

dig that
you can be black, blatantly racist
and still managed to blow smoke rings
with white intellectuals.

dig that
there is something wrong
in this picture.

dig that
this was 1969.

dig that
what I said on the first verse
does not95c3a7d9e9ebb731988b73652546e1eb matter now.

dig that
we all eat our own shit sometimes.

dig that
nobody cares if some of your words
comes out of your ass.

dig that
it’s the same shithole where the best poetry
the world had ever known came out.

dig that
the aforementioned verse is for us to swallow,
no questions asked.

ad motherfucking infinitum.


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Filed under lowbrow poetry

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