The Dead Emcee Scrolls

by Saul Williams

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I acknowledge that I am a vessel pressed against the lips of the Faceless. I am an instrument in a symphony orchestrated by the hands of an electrifying conductor. I am thankful to play my part. I am a part of the plan. Just like you. I acknowledge your presence, kiss your eyes and thank you for being. It’s going to be fun getting to know each other. Let’s have an open relationship. Just kidding. Never more than you and I.

  I also acknowledge the hands, hearts, and minds that graced the trail from my hands to yours. They have been instrumental. All parts are equal. We give and take. But those who give of themselves in the name of another are of the highest rank. I thank you with all of my heart. Your devotion to your work and craft has intensified my devotion to my own. Thank you for planning, proofing, laying out, marketing, researching, and outlining a dream now manifest.

  Finally, I would like to acknowledge that I am neither here nor there. I am not what you think. Only what you know in your heart. I believe in you and trust you can feel me. But, truly, I’m just that NGH you may cross the street to avoid, invested with love and a nurturing family. Some are not as lucky. All are blessed. Feel me? We use what we got …

  My man Kwam told me, “Ain’t no use. NGHs are broken.” Nah man, NGHs ain’t broken. NGHs are broken-hearted. Ain’t no love in the promise land. Ain’t that a BCH! My love told me that she had to learn how to surrender to love again after her divorce. But first she had to allow herself time to heal. NGHs are healin. That’s why some of ‘em be wearin Band-Aids, buying themselves diamonds and speaking of their worth. We were once worthless. Never forget, regardless of how much it breaks your heart or strains your imagination to remember. We served life as if trialed by God: slavery. Capital punishment. Got way too many emcees serving sentences. Word is bond. The source and power of your wordplay is no game. Playas beware. Game recognize truth. I love y’all more than words. I can’t say it enough. Shit, so much I’ve made expressing that love my hustle, my daily bread. And, nah, NGHs may not be broken, but I’ve sure been broke (Big shout out to the heads that be helping me manage my scrilla!). And I acknowledge the wit and savvy of all you hustlers that had to do what you had to do to not be broke. Now, let’s do what we got to do to not be broken. Let’s learn to love again: our mothers, our children, ourselves. And let’s let that love resonate through our music (That doesn’t mean I ain’t goin to check out Three6Mafia tonight, ‘cause I am. Believe it. If Project Pat is there I’m gonna lose it!). Balance. We walk the fine line between now and the eternal. Our journey has the makings of scripture. Which ain’t much more than souped up poetry (yes, of course, inspired by the divine).

  What is a poem’s worth? You decide. Recite me off page or know me by heart. I am written. So be it. I acknowledge that I am not the first, nor will I be the last, but I am here and now. And in this moment I acknowledge that we are all much more than ourselves. We are each other. And together we are part of a universe. One verse of a poem that extends beyond before and after. I know nothing of the author except that I love her. I feel kissed by language, let alone by my love.

  Dear Creator/Destroyer Dimension, thank you for life and for name. We live our signature to sign your treaty. Feathers in inkwells, we bleed through paper. May our testament fulfill thy will. Hallelujah! Dollar, dollar bill, y’all!

  And I’m out.

  SAUL WILLIAMS AKA NIGGY TARDUST

  Live from Tinsel Town

  (Recorded in front of a dead audience.)

  October 17, 2005

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