Boss Mode (We won't Take It)

I want new poetry

Nothing Conventional.
nothing about us is conventional
Unless the PLU code is 420


you dig


Clove honey you dig

natures natural nectar

for which necrophilaics must bow to their knees

and beg mercy to queen bees

for they understand quite keen

that we are exactly, what we eat.

Turnip or beat

We eat


We are


We pray for death.

We pay for death.


At the grocery store


So have you found everything you were looking for


Bags or boxes

Bags or boxes

Plastic or paper

Conventional organic 

Food or oppression

Food or imitation


Factory farms funnel fake food

Like phony fennel fruits

So little brown children forget where food comes from.

What's a Strawberry, miss?

what's flavor is blue nana?


Baby boo

Strawberry is just a stop

on the train

The vine

The Underground Railroad

Unlocking the key

your mind

Wisdom grown on trees

Withstands time

And hardens over the winter like Collards or calilolou or kale


The yellow brick road to freedom

Is red black green

And paved with Walnuts trees


It's your mind

it's ya body

winning boss mode no cheats


Live it feel it taste it thru

original rainbow


Not blue number 5

it causes more than just oversized

But if you think this is a poem about weight

Well you gon be waiting

Thick lustful luxuriously waiting in the folds of their gorgeous,

in the cuffs of his wholesomeness, 

her fullness, 

identities of certainty

clear certainty.

Thank the gods cuz you cant getallllllthat from surgery.


No This is a poem about wholeness

a movie about gravity,

about breathing living in entirety.


on purpose

in face

of genocide x 2 

It's power to the little guys.

It' 5 on the Black hand side.

It's handball no seats

hopscotch no court side

it's double dutch on the Devils roof

fire burn pon his honeybuns

and demands to obey my sweet thirst

Like Sugar plums

Fairies keeled over

killed over

Hunches of oats


food lies on labels

we buy for tables

and end up with ladles of poison for our young


We rest our head on toxins

(Tuck in now baby)

Lather bathe and coat it up and down babies bodies

temples with creams that scream of cancer

oils that clog pores like old sinks without memories just utility

Holding on

washing away dignity in chlorinated water that fucks with cognition

to push keys


with our indignation missing!

so nah we aint gon take it

I ain't gon take

Slap jack no drizzled down can't hot cake it

erasures of my people in face of prayer

---ancestors forced to believe it---

beat the prayer in and the question out

replacing conscious with Christ and Christ with conscious

like they exclusive topics

in all places proper

like there was no predecessors who knew love.

Like we could only learn brotherhood through blood.

Thanksgiving through thugs

Pilgrimage through pillage

And the Deserts and the Swamps left when the dust settled over the projects

Like we got no access

our activism arteries are clogged with abscess 

absent is the advent of equity


too much too grin it and beer

and lick her wounds

like candy

bet they'll come up sweet like a coconut macaroon -

or Araugala ruling ya too delicate for a back room affair

shelved between race and riot.


I will write.

I will riot.

Write. I will riot.

I won't buy it. We won't buy it.

You's a liar. You and yo labels you's a liar.


Should be yo pants and not my ass on fire

The stakes are dire

We aint gon take it. 

So take it (back) before it take you. 

Written Fall 2015. 

 Learn more about food justice and what fam has been doing at