SOLARIZED - A GHOST ACROSS HELL FROM ME

by SOLARIZED

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1.
The Universe 02:30
THE UNIVERSE advocacy is real, space is real .we are just dust compacted by gravity, smashed into ions, particles flanked by radiance and shaped into asteroids . ok, i get it, but the plasma must reconcile for souls that spend time here . we all too casually dance too close to icarus flame. if advocacy is real then why they all look the same, they all walk the same, they all talk the same, they all act the same? the universe is on fire and the white man sleeps
2.
10s ACROSS THE BORG! I wrote this the old way, in a hovel stuck in a cave on 13th street, in the old world with a severed arm. burn a sigil out of the mushrooms that spill from the split in my lips i wrote this on a napkin in the break room between sifting carcinogenic wafting boasts and hood tales interrupted by the manager. retconned by the holy ghost, submitted my resume to an outpost in a salt mine on the outer rim. sunk to my knees and faded, 300 tons of border high rise and steel and holla’d open the gates..black queers: we gotta eat too! burn out the old astronauts, burn em down to an imperceptible husk. open the gates. I wrote this the old way, in a hovel stuck in a cave on 13th street, in the old world with a severed arm. open up the gates!
3.
4.
ZZZ...FOR VENDETTA the earth owes me nothing; i owe the earth.you’re not a part of our party, you’re neuro-normative and you boys are boring. that's right, you're heteronormative and your bullshit story is totally boring me. when the whales boil in their skin and the pits of the earth are stuffed full with our bodies and other excess we’ll float beds on seas choked with silicone & red tape, wait at the cross road for a rocket to launch. when the towers that housed our souls on digital spreadsheets rain down on the suits and cover their smug faces with ash and the poison choked throats stuffed with their tom ford ascots, meet me at the crossroads cosmonaut cuz soon we gone. you’re not a part of our party, you’re neuro-normative and you boys are boring. you’re headed for extinction. your time is up. we're coming out of the shadows! your castle is falling down, that's right, we punched a hole in it, in your heteronormative and edgelord, white supremacist, anti-trans nonsense is heading for extinction.
5.
ACTION! (LET THE LIQUID TALONS SOAK INTO THE SEAMS OF YOUR COAT) space is the place i wasn’t born into but i fell in love through memes. in the same hood where they dropped the bomb, we can touch firmament we can feel the city's heart throb in our palm. mayor wilson goode turned our love into think-pieces fractured beyond. this place is...erases, the space is the place it erases. where a school once stood there’s a refinery for punks stepping into their yuppie years . in the same hood where the spectre of encroachment is reinforced with white fears. i guess they're just misunderstood; we shouldn’t shout em down, we should remain calm. mayor wilson goode? oooh yeah-- he dropped a bomb! it’s not enough that ours is the most forbidden love becaise it’s a comminque, it’s a conversation. it’s about power dynamics and the ephemera of. it’s about action and only action. In the same hood where fell in love we need action.
6.
7.
Divination 02:44
DIVINATION the ancestors are calling, made a soup out of period blood . the spirits are calling, it's gonna be jail or the flood. sage on the walls cant cover up the blood ,16 cowries so long-- so long inside the void ..16 cowries so long-- watch the witch pick up the sticks. the portal for resistance is open, the dead know your name. too many black transwomen's bodies to fit into a refrain . 16 cowries so long-- watch the witch pick up the sticks. sage on the walls can't cover up the blood 16 cowries so long-- a new day in a new land. divination watch the witch pick up the sticks
8.
WOKE WITHOUT WEAPONS woke up without any weapons. A martyr for a digital rainbow. Without arms my body's a graveyard. woke up in pale sunlight in a shadow where i touched a man. Woke up without any weapons, in the digital rainbow where i'm not fit to fuck, my body's a graveyard. woke up without weapons just hands carved out of porcelain story and the promise of safety and my father's long jailed soul. woke up without any weapons just the taste of the dust from a bible by the nightstand, another night in the arms of a ghost, under the sheets with a wolf. Woke up without weapons, without drugs, without arms, without love, tossing and turning into the abyss. woke up without system, with no system to replace it with. no air for a songless horse, the red ripe gale with a kiwi voice. woke up without weapons. just a hatred of system, just system in my veins. no air for a songless horse, red ripe gale
9.
DAUGHTERS OF THE DUST BAG pharaoh sleep in dirty hotels they got their tongues tattooed so they can speak in hieroglyphs. the silent side eye of 400 years of -ism done got their bangers turned around and pointed at their own balenciaga replicas. we could cook your dinner...we could shine your shoes... we could be fucking your senators.. wait, do you like this system? does it work for you? this ain’t no phase two universe or alternate time zone where everything you see is in sepia overtones or through a fish-lens haze, my nigga these the last days. Fish-lense haze, my nigga! These been the last days our queer bodies line the halls of their shelters for days. daughters of the dust bag: that's not ash! We didn't burn down their towers, it's just snow. you're not just "body parts", you're snow. this is all that's left
10.
mirror tells me to stay in bed keeps me tethered to a ghostworld look through a portal, a vortex step into a parable is the call of the ancestors Octavia be a fence a portal, a vortex when that steel dragon hits the apex, let the cosmic rays seep through my skin your words rearrange my DNA a portal, a vortex a steel dragon bursts through the skyline, it exists as a parable watching from the back room, won't you rearrange my DNA Octavia be a fence. A portal, a vortex severed axis, a lotus peeking thru mountain in snowy Tibet, tectonic plates are demons taking these lost boys, these displace Kemets Octavia... we just want something we could never have but our current bodies are heroic, we just have to dream it up we are science fiction! from a cubicle, an infirmary, on the public assistance line: we just have to dream it up! we are science fiction! behind a counter, in our bedrooms, cleaning their towers we just have to dream it up! we are science fiction!
11.
IS THIS WHERE I BEG FOR THE PROSTHETIC LEG? we will not be cured! the binary... stretches its steely prongsall over this pristine room where the doctor reads your palms "we'll need new x-rays". new x-rays, we need new songs.the charts just can't be wrong. the suture's the future (honeychile, lemme tell ya bout crip wisdom!) it's long, it's so long put your faith in the garbage bin. it's long, it's so long...he may never walk again. we will not be cured.
12.
earthseed 01:07
13.
Dreamcatcher 03:46
DREAM CATCHER white dj steps onto the dance floor covered in privilege and cascading white fog. With this particular parlance he speaks so fluidly to his white constituents with their customary head nod. arms folded, they pay their tithes to their off beat white god. his crimes for his god he’s stuck in the dreamcatcher with you. my boyfriend, his best friend is his husband. his husband is a coven and that coven is my best friend, and my best friend is my husband in a dungeon on the weekends. his crimes for his god he’s stuck in the dreamcatcher with you. namaste she speaks through the chore wheel like it's a sick tarot. her mercury is rising and it's in retrograde-- she left her mulch basket on your front lawn.
14.
A GHOST ACROSS HELL FROM ME I’m gonna stay on the sidewalk, down here the Fourth World. They wanna call it “New Genesis” but even utopia has it’s own Bugs. Nothing is coming out of the boom tube. Don’t go nowhere without my phone charger. The Black Racer comes for everybody. Glorious ominous luminescence. I’m shinin’ Let me kiss the concrete with my bare, black feet. Let me walk to the corner store and get my baby something to eat. Let me live in the bossom of my Afro-topian hive. Let me walk past these fucking pigs and make it back alive. Let me speak of my neighbor’s house as pure and good. Let me cop salt-n-pepper wings without adjusting my hood. Let me sing from the holy texts on the steps of my humble abode. Let me adjust my walk-- they switched the code. Pigs everywhere! I am on the sidewalk, covered in yellow tarp and toe-tagged. Flesh stripped by Parademons, guess they didn’t see the police edits. To them every mark has a Darkseid, with a Motherbox, in their grandmother’s backyard*. Pigs everywhere, but I’m shinin’. A ghost across hell me from, solarized. My visual tectum… you get your nutrients from the sun, the mitochondria in your skin. The unholy policeman’s gun, the Apokalips within. *Stephon Clark is a Black man that was murdered by Sacremento police for holding a cellphone (a Motherbox) that “looked like a gun.” This line is in reference to that harrowing, racist incident.

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released October 11, 2019

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