Said the Shotgun to the Head-Saul Williams

chewmauro

Just ordered my copy.
Really good spoken word/rap/poetry.
Check him out

http://www.saulwilliams.com

chewmauro

"a great one has said
that poets are midwives
to reality

yet these words
catch me
when i would have them
let me go"

pg. 102

setaside2

and it's true that the midwives of reality are some of the few who truly understand the birthing of fantasy.

The whole emotive.

The libation of love.

It is their true domain. Taint the tea, paint the glass, makes no nevermind.

chewmauro

the unseen

said the shotgun
to the head
i want to feel
your lips
upon my shaft
taste the coldness
of my steel
feel the warmth
of my desire
squeeze my trigger
with your gentle touch
i'll reward you with an orgasim
you cant swallow
i want you to make me
explode inside you
you'll feel a passion
you never knew existed
die for me
die for me
die for me
die for me
die for me
die for me
die for me
die for me
i want you
now

chewmauro

As of this day, we shall witness the uprise of the downfall and the
ascendance of the strong wills of those of whom we are descendants. The long overdue
wakening of the sleeping giant whose snoring we have taken as music, whose
dreamy mutterings we have taken for divine utterance. TODAY the umbilical is cut,
along with the noose and the tie. The foreshadowing takes center stage. The
crippled man walks. On this day, the drunks vomit in unison, 'though, last night,
they drank from different cups.’
TODAY all of the theme songs unite! The Dancehall Queens all stand glancing
over their shoulders, down at their bouncing rumps and then up at you saying,
"well, what are you waiting for?". A priest proposes to a nun. They elope to
Vegas and live happily ever after (They are the proud parents of 5 bouncing baby
Buddhists).
And did you hears the news about the soldiers?!!
Chemical warfare is suspected as they all put down their weapons and
start making out with each other and journalists, and photographers, and even
the enemy! The CNN correspondent keeps the camera above her neck and keeps
squirming and giggling while she gave her report.
And all of the grandmothers were appalled. While their husbands found the
energy to dig up their old uniforms and defy the gravity with which age deforms.
Yes, this is a special day. The perfect day to creep into a closet and speak
bluntly to a dead relative or friend. Or, even, as our native friends say, 'Today is a good day to die.' But don't take that wrongly! Cough up those pills!
Remove that razor from your wrist! Don't jump!! Please, Mr. Brown, come back
into the window. You must understand that when our indigenous friends said these
words, they meant that everything was in order, that God's presence was felt,
that today they could rest in peace. But mark my words: THERE ARE THOSE WHO
DO NOT LIKE REST NOR PEACE. THEY MAKE WAR WITH THE UNDENIABLE AND DENY THE INEVITABLE. THIS IS NOT THEIR DAY, NOR YEAR, NOR CENTURY. WOE TO THEM! (A brief aside: Maya is Sanskrit for illusion) [Oh my, I'm beginning to sound like
the fine print on a Dr. Bronner's soap container.]
TODAY is the day that the fine print becomes legible and we delete everything
but the words written in red. God has perfected his moonwalk and is having a
high pitched showdown with the King of Pop right now!
Hip-Hop is actually good again!!!!!......
Sike. But TODAY that song is being written that in nine months will grace
our ear drums with the vibration of the ever present. A song that will not
have to grow on us but one that will have grown in us. Yes, TODAY is that day.
Swallow your gum, children!! Yes,, bite your toenails! Pet your friends
pets admit it, Pugs are cute! Men, paint your toenails! Ladies, blow at least
four kisses today! Thank me later.
Yes, it's a beautiful day, TODAY. Not only that, TODAY is BEAUTY's birthday
and it's having a big party on the elevator, in the subway, at the office, at
school, on the sidewalk, in the bedroom, downtown. Oh my God, is that Puffy
chatting it up with Ram Das?! Oh my God, isn't that my cleaning lady playing
dominoes with Deepak? Michael Moore and Warren G have matching medallions!
Kate Hudson has cornrows! Knox Robinson has a glass naval ring! And aren't
those the Def Poets?! My God, everyone's here! Nike sweat shops are closing
early today. The tap water has ecstasy in it. Please stop my parents from
kissing.
Yes, TODAY is that day. Be brave and live it. See it through. Burn the
flag of your fears. Disregard your pride for one minute and ask him out. The
Hindu girl tells her family she wants a love marriage. The rapper comes out of
the closet. The husband writes his wife a love note. She blushes when he
calls her,"friend". All the great love stories have come to life. TODAY is that
day.
"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery," he said, then whispered lovingly
into his wife's ear, "I like it how you do that right thurr!"
Calling all superstitious!!!
Read this with your left eye, TODAY only listen with your right ear, type
with your palms, forward this email to God ,or else!
And oh, my new book comes out TODAY. SAID THE SHOTGUN TO THE HEAD
Buy it. (please).
It doesn't come with any of my famous hand gestures but it's a sure winner.
It doesn't feature Beyonce, Sean Paul, or Redman, but there are cameos by
Moses, Jesus, Buddha, Kali, my ex-girlfriend's Uncle and lots of sexy people.
Pharrell did invisible beats for those who read in between the lines. There are
tons of far-fetched references that can be stolen for any underground hip-hop
anthem.
Yes, it's a little abstract and I apologize for that. But considering the
fact that it's being put out by MTV books, I couldn't just write, FUCK YOU MR.
PRESIDENT AND YOUR NEO-COLONIALIST VIEWS, in big letters and not expect Mr.
Viacom to... In fact, the whole point of the beginning of this email was to have
those sorts skip to the next email before they got to the FUCK YOU MR.
PRESIDENT AND YOUR WESTERN IDEALS, part (They generally have a low tolerance for
crazy talk.). Which isn't to say that TODAY isn't the day. Oh believe me when I
say, it most certainly is! Even with Mercury in retrograde, this
communication is by no means faltered. Venus and Chiron can attest to that.
But enough, back to work. Don't forget about those kisses, ladies. Make a
trip to your favorite book store and kindly ask them to point you to the poetry
section, unless of course I am to be found in the Negro section, which
reminds me of the joke my girlfriend tells that insinuates that black people are
hatched from bowling balls. Highly unlikely,but STRIKE,nontheless. I thank you in advance for your support.
SAID THE SHOTGUN TO THE HEAD is simply one long poem. An epic poem in the
voice of a homeless man that is telling of the coming of a female Messiah that
he has known intimately. Maybe you know her, maybe you'll meet her TODAY.
Maybe you'll find the whole idea sacrilegious, in which case you probably won't
buy my book. God Bless You. And on a day like today, SHE most certainly
will. And for all ye others, revel in the Glory of the day, for TODAY all the
answers are truly written in the back of the book.

aborted

good stuff