Chorus

by Saul Williams

  after the initial pain, train your body to immediately stop loving.

  Do not take back all you have given. When you re-wrap your lungs, heart, spleen..they don’t taste the same . . . only prisoners and war veterans like resealable women. Give yourself anew. every time. When he breaks you, put the OxyCotin under ur tongue. Nothing in you should be refurbished.

  Do not lose sleep over him. Do not read the e-mails. Do not play Anita Baker. Do not wear his hoodie. Do not tell anyone of the burning in you. Do not pretend he is who you want him to be. Focus on yourself. Focus on yourself. Lie. Always lie and say you have never been stitched back together.

  When a man tells you he is different from the rest, read the book of Exodus in your quiet time. He will sing u an apology. Loud, like the wail of a infant that has not yet been burped. Pat him on the back. Simple.

  66

  Steve, Melantha and I begin to walk downtown.

  I anxiously bid goodbye to the poison now

  weakening in my body, for I have neglected to add

  another layer to keep sobriety at bay.

  Sobriety is the enemy – it is more physically kind but in my destabilized state of mind, it is the curse of integrity.

  The poison slips off in malformed droplets, my toes struggle to reabsorb them, but they have no tongues no tongues no

  The poison surrenders.

  Sobriety overwhelms, almost unnoticed, drawing lies upon

  my spine, over my head – to suffocate

  It begins plastering an artificial masterpiece; a disguise; a

  false sense of nature

  The new skin is made up of unnaturally restrictive fibers –

  papier-mâché soup

  Strips of gummy glue and tatty newspapers

  with stories of the 1940s and ’50s

  I only want to clutch at my breast and rip the soggy bits of paper from my skin

  before they dry

  Too late.

  I am a doll once more, mummified in traditions and encapsulated in cruel words

  I explore my mouth, open, close, open, close

  Sticky spiderwebs form between my lips – glue

  My tongue is trapped – I make mere noises;

  articulation a lost skill.

  no Voice

  67

  Listen: the cavalry rides at dusk

  Whiskey short on breath in the bonfire nights

  A curse, a daydream, visions of fire, a string ’cross wood

  Plucked from shoulders unsteady and years too soon

  Air scorched with some Hell I haven’t known

  (And babe: I’ve seen a few in my time)

  Here they keep the bones, withered and wilted, flower to dust

  Bleached to oil stain under northern lights

  The Summer is the end of all things luminary

  After decay comes the obscurity, my good old friend

  Fifteen years it has been since they came

  The Bird-men, painted all the colors of death

  Feathers slicked back, smiling toothless maw Hello

  For my daughter, auburn and heart beats an hour

  Head asunder, thighs pale in bare sunshine

  At the foot of this pine tree your

  Baptismal waters run red across your love

  Meanwhile watches with pinhole eyes

  Blind but to presence, creature of scent and touch

  Waits

  Undiscovered are means that our ends are a mystery

  Slipping forth from darkness cavernous

  Echoes blood from the font

  Voice of a man forgotten, a blue room filled with smoke

  A green world constructed for tenants unfound

  The flickering lights of a world’s stolen electricity

  Batteries and acids corrosive in nostrils meant not

  Even in the right direction lost to haze

  Flows a river, wonders the flesh how we ever got by without it

  The man docked in his cruel Owl mask, finger raised

  Summoning from the rocks struck a wind

  And words without voice, life without end

  “Come and see, traveler, come and see”

  At the foot of the mount the burning girl lays

  Processional runs the blue vigil

  Stirs the blood not to see, not to come forward

  This world you’re rid of, I see

  To the head of the line the faces are dust

  And forward, finger curled, you cinder me

  Voice lilting, soul and heart are nothing

  There is nothing that you cannot be, so sing your song

  I will come to you

  Waters forth, calling to sheets laid ago

  Underneath the gauze veil, touch at your lips

  In other kingdoms I cannot discern with these eyes

  The velvet dark blew in

  Hold me close, my dear, my love, hold me

  I will show you a world you never heard of in this life

  Oh, sweet girl, your fingernails run across

  my shoulders like ice flakes

  Damp to the touch and carved in rocks skipped across stillness

  No, no, soon, too soon, what have we become

  Rubs the flesh to the mind, so close to sunshine,

  O God, daughter

  Climb onto my shoulder and don’t say a word

  We’re leaving and we’re leaving for Earth

  Don’t look back for a second, not a second, I

  unto you as you unto me, to the starlight

  To the warm tendrils of the sun beyond

  The moon is only a reflection, dear

  Close your eyes, have no despair, don’t listen

  Not a single word they say is true, not a one

  They only speak bird, honey

  You and me are one and the same

  There is no shame, babe, no shame

  No, not Heaven, but on the way

  Through the darkness and into the caverns,

  that breath on your face

  Don’t listen to it, sweetheart

  We’re on the cusp, the frontier, nearly there

  There— the surface is there— feel with your toes,

  your fingers curled

  And speak with your auburn hair to love

  Answer the grayness with locust breath

  Ruined, rotten, blood on your forehead

  Dyes your fleshy silk hair red

  See no more I lost you in all these dark currents

  So what has become of you now?

  Where have you gone and how could I follow?

  68

  We follow the whiskey trail

  to the garden of believers

  we ignore cries of foolish

  and tune in the receivers

  we build our towers higher

  than those that came before us

  and above angry voices

  we recite faithful chorus

  69

  Fuck God

  where you

  find her

  and call it

  a day.

  The tragedy

  that begat

  the Sun

  made light

  of lesser things.

  It was an explosion.

  First in heart.

  Now at hand.

  This tree’s blood

  is painted on.

  The guilt

  that I feel

  is freedom.

  Jesus was

  the only magic

  we believed in.

  The cigarette

  that tricked us

  into breathing.

  An excuse to sing.

  Anthemic

  woodwind

  hollow

  as crown

  fall

  through

  the octaves

  glide

  over ground

  and come

  to me.

  SONG IN ME MINOR

  I fee
l

  so close

  to nothing

  when I pray.

  I cross

  my legs

  and crucify

  each day.

  I share

  this blood

  with everyone

  I meet

  and

  kick her

  when she tries

  to wash my feet.

  We drank

  red wine

  to cancel out

  our fears

  but sober kisses

  tend to always taste

  like tears.

  70

  I know you breathe fire like a dragon

  posted like bullets into the hearts

  of small children

  and this rage never-ending is yours to keep

  entirely forever entirely forever entirely

  cannot be undone within the strangeness

  of my lifetime

  Breathe slow my parent

  One day the moss covering your face

  will be swept away

  You will sing poems

  washed in the basin

  of life

  You will clear out

  all frozen blood clots of hate

  surrounding that heart

  which is yours

  I imagine your face

  superimposed over Buddha’s

  ten-foot-tall stone thousand-year-old

  prayer

  Maybe Buddha was an angry father too

  previous incarnation

  I am superimposing your face, Dad

  over the face of Buddha

  to awaken your own child

  interior within self’s temple

  your own

  there

  Do you hear him

  still chanting father’s name

  still chanting machismo terror to cling toward something

  lest his personality self be destroyed

  or that prayer then

  on Buddha’s lips

  is compassion awakened

  this heart flowering now

  that child need chant no more

  let each lotus blossom wiggle

  inside his mind

  eventually we are one

  somewhere

  our ribs are touching

  Bless tenderness always

  Bless country music

  and ruthless ignorance

  where America gathers in a religion

  of pain and glory

  Bless cock worship and rodeo mind

  Bless Budweiser and dominos as pure expression of karma

  All embraced in infinite sound

  mind never-ending

  even racist high school football stars have Buddha nature

  And this much I saw once

  I believe

  in the back door

  of our home

  you standing naked as you often did

  eyes wondering

  splayed out to the ocean’s twinkling

  twenty miles away

  as if the ask the universe:

  Who am I?

  Maybe its answers may come to you now

  as they never did

  from gin tonics

  or gambling wheel obsessions

  mouth always ready for the next tit nipple

  all you were doing

  was chasing after yourself in the dark

  spinning on an endless wheel

  hoping luck would make your number hit

  like riding a bicycle with no chain

  only you kept believing it was there

  Gate Daddy Gate

  Para Gate Daddy

  Parasvam Gate Daddy

  Bodhi Svaha

  I imagine Buddha

  smoking a Kent cigarette

  and it is you

  71

  Overwhelmed

  by the upheaval of souls

  I stretch

  further than land

  and sea

  to muddle

  my essence with these

  The mass

  of my irreverence

  is benign

  compared to all

  the flourish made

  by the winds.

  In the rhythmic

  fueling of my catharsis

  I shred to light

  the beholder stealthily

  and consume my wish

  to be one

  of a shield

  to the peace

  of all.

  Ignited

  to vanish

  in a glimpse

  of crept-tall

  flare blossom

  between light

  and shadow.

  Fixing initiative

  of incongruous art

  as such as

  dust

  we will

  become.

  72

  dig

  a little harder

  deeper

  dig

  a little faster

  keep on

  dig

  until morning tugs

  at your backbone

  and sweat stings sun licks

  on the tender of your flesh

  don’t surrender

  dig

  until your knuckles begin to rouge

  and the tips of your fingernails bend

  back

  this can’t break you

  still

  keep on

  digging

  dig

  with bare hands

  and prayer knees

  dig

  with dry tongue

  and withered clothes

  dig

  with ripe eyes

  and cracked heels

  dig some more

  don’t give up

  dig heavy

  for broken mirror glass,

  rusty spoons,

  or doll legs

  for ship sails

  angel casts

  broken chariot pieces

  a sequined dress

  dig

  for drum hide

  cigarette ash

  emptied vials

  Boogie Man’s shoes

  or a sparrow’s bones

  dig

  for quarters

  tucked in the sole of your left shoe

  dig for the choke

  in the song’s last breath

  dig at ink letters

  until the spines of books twist back

  dig into night

  ’til you naked the sun

  keep on

  digging

  dig

  ’til you can piece yourself

  back together again

  73

  when I say you remind me of a book’s broken back,

  pages half-sewn and a coffee ring on its face or

  that moment in half-morning where the sun is hesitant

  or after the ground’s been cried upon and everything

  is soft and open or holding the earth’s guts in palm

  just to feel alive amidst all this concrete, my god, what

  I mean to say is this song is an off strum and I like the way

  it hits my ears sideways and how I might be cold and you’ll

  put your coat around my shoulders like the movies and

  I’ll show my teeth and say, who spilled molasses

  over the window,

  making the day golden? You’ll say, beautiful is a dead word

  and I’ll say, so let’s invent, they tell us that star up there blew out

  ages ago and you’ll say, but it still holds 10,000 wishes

  tonight alone and we’ll want to sing with our voices turned

  on backwards, we’ll want to laugh so hard we forget to

  ask why and then lose any use for that word, too.

  74

  I wanted to say something beautiful

  How we’ve turned garbage into gold

  How we made a s
wamp fertile land

  How we turned a curse into a blessing

  How we made a nigger Black

  Wanted to say something

  That would make us stand up

  And be proud

  With the sun shining on our faces

  And in our hearts

  I wanted to say

  But the day wouldn’t let me

  And the skies were too gray

  The air was choking my dreams

  And all the smiles

  On the faces of my people

  Had turned to frowns

  Are we so loving

  That we love what hates us

  That we love what breaks us

  That we love the pain

  That twists our minds into creatures

  -we can’t even recognize

  Are we so strong

  That we play being weak

  I wanted to say something beautiful

  That would lift us up

  Kick depression to the curb

  And walk tall

  In the middle of the storm

  But the storm is raging

  And we are tossed about

  Like rag dolls

  Played with by children of dogs

  And we allow this

  And dance with this noise

  And call it music

  Dress up in the debris

  Of a shattered world

  Where broken bodies and broken hearts

  And blisters from a swollen lie

  Infect our world with disease

  And yet we are the only cure

  For a world gone mad

  If we could stop and see and smell

  The flowers we planted long ago

  Ah I wanted to say something beautiful

  But ugly like a brick in my path

  Keeps tripping me up

  Causing me to fall on my face

  And make me forget

  How beautiful we can be

  75

  WE.

  flesh and flood fetuses

  fed breath through blood,

  board this hemoglobe

  with no boats to boast

  we float.

  WE.

  float til we are born

  ’less we be bloated

  with a fire to flee

  the ocean of our Mother.

  SHE.

  a complex of

  refuge - ease.

  her body

  of water

  begins and ends us

  a full circle

  bodacious and round

  even when earth was flat.

  WE.

  this amniotic nation

  native to wading

  strong-willed,

  born to be wild

  and bewildered,

  will build ark

  upon her

  when splintered by her bleeding.

  SHE.