Long Spitter Poems

AntiPoem 4
“Santo and Johnny”

(Poet’s instruction- Play “Sleepwalk” twice by Santo and Johnny while reading)

Santo and Johnny play Sleepwalk on Fender steel and bass
Just oozing out their mellow electric dream sound as the
Santa Monica Pier exudes...

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The Iceman the Bronx/Tony Adamo

I DIG THAT THE ICEMAN’S BACK, HITTING THE SPOKEN WORD STAGES IN THE BRONX AND THE OTHER BOROUGHS IN NEW YORK/AFTER ALL HE IS BORN AND BREAD IN DE BRONX/WORD SPITTER/...

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15 of them begin the emotional ritual attired in silk & sequens,
they maneuver miraculously one after another on burning coals glowing violet,
the dance steps are heartbeats, curved & compassionate, their majesty is inviolate,
their Art is...

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The media wanted to me be everything but this
a lyrical spitter or how they address you as someone
who's artisitic a "Poet"
but am I posing or am I the real deal
today could be my last meal
so...

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The people’s choice
ain’t always the right footstool fit
Crown a throne sitter
with electric glam fanfare
Light the bright Roman candles
for a cancer stick spitter ...
See the fireworks in the air:

Inter
Continental 
Ballistic
Missives

got voter arm drone sent
Cheek chicanery 
is...

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While going to see a man about a horse                          ...

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American Lust
Rosewood
Black Hills
Wounded Knee
Chinese Massacre of 1871
Bloody Monday
The last black man shot
The first cop acquitted 
The Chicago kid
that said "I'm wit' it"
The burnt flag
The spitter, the pisser, 
the two that stood with
fist raised,
The ripper and...

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Pour fourth your tranquility 
Show us Your endless glee 
You're just like a key...
Unlocking me free
From captivity...closing in on me

Shred me like paper... my emotions rip me apart...
As...if...
I had no point of existing... 
I'd love...

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Is Putin going Kaput
He has morbid losers look
Some Russian soldiers have had enough,
Of this slaughter and murder stuff
Whatever they were fighting for
They are weary, sick of war
They can no longer understand
Why they are fighting for...

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I am not a poet
I am the truth spitter
Don’t call me Christian
Call me disciple of my own religion
I am not a prophet of words
I am the prophecy
I am the words
I am the future
Plant a seed...

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