DJ as List-Poet

This offends me as a vegan transgender hipster democrat voting Native-American-Indo-Chinese socialist anarchist hybrid illegal alien agnostic-atheist Germanic social engineering major dropout who only vapes fair-trade organic non-GMO decaffeinated French-pressed compressed and hydrated extra-skim grass-fed only protein soy breastmilk on the regular and does Hindi Kama Sutra naked crossfit hot yoga five times a week. And frankly, since I am also a non-binary tri-gender genderqueer male feminist and I identify as a proponent to legalize cannabis and a Rastafarian, pansexual, genderfluid, Apache helicopter beta mutt of mega multi alpha beta gamma delta omega combo god of hyper-death who’s adamant about polygamous polyamorous relationships with a pure-bred alpha chihuahua which helped me cross the border of Mexico to let Love trump the Hate and get a job 3-D printing pink pussy hats all day. My dog also walks me to the local skate park and doggy-styles me, while my gender- neutral photographer neighbor takes pictures and sells them on the dark web Antifa site and if you find that weird you’re an ignorant arrogant homophobic gender-assuming globophobic bloodthirsty bacon-loving gun-toting cis-gender pan-sexual patriarchal incestuous sexist racist white-privileged misogynistic populist biased objectified white-privileged anti-communist Nazi indoor tanning Cheetos cheese-puff-loving republican.

 

ALL CREDIT to the Poet: DJ

Poetic Polylectic

Radical poetry from the STREET
ain’t worth a white SHEET.
Thug reaction in a BLACK HOOD
won’t do nobody no good.
Triple negatives and ghetto slang
will deliver a BIGGER and BETTER BANG !

Enjoy the militant poetry from both sides.
Make sure to hurl bottles & epithets.
LOOK OUT !  Here comz da POlice !

⛧☭ ✠⛧☭ ✠⛧☭ ✠⛧☭ ✠⛧☭ ✠⛧☭ ✠⛧

For Culrd Grlz who Yak on Phonz (when Afro-silence iz Enuf)

(A Choreopoem after Ntozake Shange)

Babbling publicly into your phone
the tragedy’s yours, and yours alone:
messages from your dysfunctional city
inflicted in Afro-eccentricity.

Turn off your phone and spare us the drama.
Look for change from the Lord (not Obama)…
Quit twitching your neckline, stop making that face
there’s nothing you merit because of your race;
no right to entitlement. Take it to God—
we hope He will change you, but spare the rod.

And we pray He does change you, put “yes” in your can;
and that change that’s left over (from Savior to man)
might enlighten your heritage, lighten your load
help you calculate more or less what you are owed
in dollars or dignity (afro-semantics)
while twittering radically militant antics.

A debt unforgiven: this claim someone owes you
some change in a can that black history shows you
your hopeful presumption is scant reparation
for ghetto entitlement fouling our nation.

Go harvest your madness and reap what you’ve sown
now that tares have sprung up as you blab on your phone
now that reapers are ready—the data-plan paid
and our melanin levels beginning to fade…

I’ll shout from your rooftop until you’ve heard
and the crackers get fed to the mockingbird.

Cosmoetica NAILED HER to a pedicure

 

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