at virtue’s zone (from the castled face of a suicidal negro)
Theorem 3
DONE-IT-AGAIN was at it again…
missed his pregnant mama with a bullet. Then police swarmed the streets, and they were all confused, stranded on those bullet avenues with other overseers of his plastic biology…like officer friendly, with his robot uniform.
And DONE-IT-AGAIN was cheering his desperate perfume, he done narrowly survived. He was hailed a bootlicker – at that clearing on the edge of a tangled city rock, at the edge of a world in a glass. He became that new nigger, elfish and bowlegged, hopping on a busted leg. His mother was a slave-breeding muse and his father rusted his bones on troubles.
DONE-IT-AGAIN staggered and said: ‘ask me about teenage suicides and other unspoken genocides…
Like how nations are killed with pesticides and how a hero’s birthday is celebrated with massacres of infants’.
He traveled widely among pocket bureaucrats, among charity museums, among imprisoned leaders and peasants on truck-loads of fire, noosing his neck like a stick on a coward’s arm. He huddled a hit and run pistol, his shadow hollowing in sounds of his wheel-burrow bosom filled with revenge. He remembered; He touched down, all crushed and craving death. DEATH waited at an intersection where ordered soldiers decapitated him; his head displayed on postcards sent back home to sweethearts allowed a love who supported shackles. He touched down, crushed and beat…and death was black in the veins of this feature fool; an option-less fellow…yielding to nothing in the heat-blizzards of straight-jacket individualism. He lay on a wall paging through a Martian bible…we later discovered that he was massacred through the stomach and through other scourges of the black holocaust, like destitution, suicidal family systems, the immobility of the ghetto and the present-day death-count inflicted by aids.
Picks and spades redefined this new nigger…like DONE-IT-AGAIN cursing clans of proselytes lamenting jesus’ anthems in frail hope of flameless sleep. He sensed their fear of dreams, of death or the dying aims of life.
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