Category: Visual Arts

Now they’re frightened of leaving it; everyone’s weaving it, Sunday Comics all the time…All through the day, I me mine.

The yam brought it out of the Sunday Comics, manipulated Bill Clinton with desires…24/7, 365 days times two, I was contemplatin’ gettin’ on stage just to go back to the hood see my enemies and say, “Man, where you when I was walkin’?”

She stands beneath the mistletoe screaming for him to “read the Sunday Comics now,” screaming…Now I can’t help but feeling jealous each time she climbs on his knee, why must she climb on his knee?

Seems as if my half baked hot takes, like, “if there is a heaven it’ll be highly unlikely any of our Sunday Comics are there just because of our back catalogues.” are apparently insensitive and a testament to my alcoholic thinking.

The old ramshackle house with the broken down porch and the novelty doorbell? The lights are still on…Zoe plays her music low, she’s got a bottle on the go
Everything’s in boxes it’s been a long night packing. “What the fuck is all this stuff?”

I keep my hands dirty, my mind clean. Got a new agenda with a new dream. I’m kicking out the old regime: Liberation, elevation, education — America, you a lie.

The virginal brides file past his tomb, strewn with time’s dead flowers. Bereft in deathly bloom; alone in a darkened room? The count.

From a cold clod cut in a deep zone, a sunken ship with the ghost on…They put my seat in there, Sunday Comics under the chair hot, tucked in a dope spot, so the chrome tire screech every time we hit.

It’s just that I want to say that I live a life in a day. I didn’t have to wait till I was lonely old and gray, I simply read the Sunday Comics for a direction!