Saul Williams
1987
1987
CHAPTER 1
Acid wash Guess with the leather patches,
sportin the white Diadoras with the hoodie
that matches. I’m wearing two Swatches and
a small Gucci pouch. I could have worn the
Louis but I left it in the house.
My NGHs Duce and Wayne got gold plates
with their name, with the skyline on it and the
box link chain. I’m wearing my frames they
match my gear with their tint. And you know
Lagerfield is the scent.
My NGH Rafael just got his jeep out the shop.
Mint green sidekick. Custom made ragtop. Strictly
Business is the album that we play. “You’re a
Customer,” the pick of the day.
CHAPTER 2
There’s a NGH on the block. Never seen him
before. Selling incense and oils. My man thinks
that he’s the law. But why on earth would this be
on their agenda as he slowly approaches the window.
Uh, uh, I’ve seen you before. I’ve been you and
more. I was the one bearing the pitcher of water. I
rent the large upper room furnished with tidings of
your doom or pleasure, whichever feathers decree.
Yo, Ralph, is he talking to me? No I’m talking to
the sea sons resurrected. I’m the solstice of the
day. I bring news from the blues of the Caspian”
My man laughs. He’s one of them crazy
MTHRFKRs. Turn the music back up. ‘Cause
I’m the E double.’ “Wait, but but, I know the
volume of the sea and sound waves as I will.
Will you allow me to be at your service?”
My man Ralph is nervous. He believes his
strange tongue deceives and maybe he’s
been informed that he’s pushing gats, Hidden
in the back beneath the floor mats. “Come on
Jack, we don’t have time for your bullshit or
playin, As Salaam A somethin or another.”
“Wait isn’t Juanita your mother? I told you
I know you. Now grant me a moment.
CHAPTER 3
At the gates of Atlantis we stand. Ours
is the blood that flowed from the palms
of his. Hands on the plow, till earth ‘til
I’m now. Moon cycles revisited. Womb
fruit of the sun. Full moon of occasion
wave the wolves where they run. And we
run towards the light. Casting love on the
wind. As is the science of the aroma of
sleeping women.”
Lost in his eyes. They soon reflect my
friends are grinning. But I’m a pupil of
his sight. The wheels are spinning. “Yo,
I’ll see y’all later tonight.”
CHAPTER 4
In the beginning her tears where the long
awaited rains of a parched Somali village.
Red dusted children danced shadows in the
newfound mounds of mascara that eclipsed
her face, reflected in the smogged glass of
Carlos’ East Street bodega.
Learning to love she had forgotten to cry,
seldom hearing the distant thunder in her
lovers ambivalent sighs. He was not honest.
She was not sure. A great grandfather had
Sacrificed the families clarity for gold in the
late 1800’s. Nonetheless, she had allowed
him to mispronounce her name, which had
eventually led to her misinterpreting her
own dreams and later doubting them. But
the night was young.
She, the first-born daughter of water, faced
darkness and smiled. Took mystery as her
lover and raised light as her child. Man that
shit was wild. You should have seen how
they ran. She woke up in an alley with a gun
in her hand. Tupac in lotus form, Ennis’ blood
on his hands.
She woke up on a vessel, the land behind her,
the sun within her, water beneath her, mushed
corn for dinner. Or was it breakfast? Her stomach
turned, as if a compass. She prayed east and lay
there breathless. They threw her overboard for
dead. She swam silently and fled into the blue Si.
CHAPTER 5
La So Fa Me Re Do Si. The seventh octave. I
don’t mean to confuse you. Many of us have
been taught to sing and so we practice scales.
Many of us were born singing and thus were
born with scales.
Myrrh-maids cooks and field hands sang a
night song by the forest and the ocean was the
chorus in Atlantis, where they sang. Those thrown
overboard had overheard the mysteries of the
undertow and understood that down below there
would be no more chains.
They surrendered breath and name and survived
countless as rain. I’m the weather, man. The clouds
say storm is coming. A white buffalo was born
already running. And if you listen close you’ll hear
a humming.
CHAPTER 6
Beneath the surface of our purpose lies rumor of
ancient rain. Dressed in cloud-face, minstrels the
sky. The moon’s my mammy. The storm holds
my eye.
Dressed in westerlies. Robed by Robeson. Ol’
Man River knows my name. And the reason you
were born is the reason that I came.
CHAPTER 7
Then she looks me in the face and her eyes get
weak. Pulse rate descends. Hearts rate increase.
Emcees look me in the face and their eye’s get
weak. Pulse rate descends. Hearts rate increase.
Emcees look me in the face and their eyes get
Weak. Pulse rate descends. Hearts rate increase.
It’s like ‘Beam me up, Scottie’. I control your
body. I’m as deadly as AIDs when it’s time to
rock a party.
We all rocked fades. Fresh faded in La Di Da Di.
And when we rock the mic we rock the mic right.
But left’s the feminine side. Ignored the feminine
side.
I presented my feminine side with flowers. She cut
the stems and placed them gently down my throat.
And these tu lips might soon eclipse your brightest
hopes.
