Welcome back to a special interlude episode of 101.5 Wilde thoughts exclusively here on Herstun FM Readio. Once again, welcome to my mind.

Companion Tracks – War Cry – Queen Naija & Revolution by Kirk Franklin

Another experiment in my fractured thought. I love music. A lot of things I write are wound up in a song. So I love these songs. I promise that the next piece will be more traditional. And I won’t always be so… Broken. But, part of this is giving you who I am as much as I can. So here, we go.

“Like the dead-seeming, cold rocks, I have memories within that came out of the material that went to make me. Time and place have had their say.

So you will have to know something about the time and place where I came from, in order that you may interpret the incidents and directions of my life.”

Zora Neale Hurston. Opening Lines to Dust Tracks on a Road.

Art is passion.

Art is my war cry.

The pursuit of something you find so enthralling you are wound up in its influence wholly.

Something that reminds you that somewhere, to someone, existence itself is holy.

Something that you are aggressive about sustaining.

So many of us neglect passion.

Generation of materialistics.

Replace it with greed. Exhaustion. Neglect. Preoccupation. And excuses.

We are mean, ugly, angry, withdrawn, and scared with no release because we have never been passionate about anything outside of ourselves and the opinions we see ourselves reflected in.

Joy is resistance.

This is a war cry.

Why do all the people around me feel so unfulfilled?

Always looking for satisfaction.

Fame, drugs, money, lust, violence, hate. in hate. division. in HD.

Maybe your God destined you for more. The God that breathes inside your chest every time you reach for those animated assumptions [dreams] in your sleep, even the unconscious ones weigh on your spirit.

Make sure you go to church for Him.

And not THEM.

Smiling like your hyper-blessed royalty while your insecurities structure the only throne you know.

enemy’s attacking every way he can.

Passion unidentified, unhoned, unstructured, seeking outlet, without being raised to question itself… It is still power.

And that power manifests. — Creating more pockets of insecurity where ever it may go.

Making a bad name for for all of us Christians.
This is MY war cry.

The art of spirituality is for sale at the trending neighborhood yoga shop.

The one that moved to the lot where Skip and his boys to wash cars for the peewee football team.

We gotta fight.

What’s on your mind when you wake up?

How will I raise social media internet savvy children?

How are they testing?

Are they behaving?

Are you behaving?

I’m exhausted.

Our people are dying slowly everyday.

Are you medicating? Medicated?

The deplorables are ruining the country.

Why don’t I have kids?

Libtards are idiots.

Our souls are crying out.

Chronic Pain.

Where is my wife?

“Why did our taxes go up?”

Why won’t the right person love me back?

“My teeth hurt so bad I can’t sleep.”

Mental Wellness.

This is my war cry.

Why can’t I love me back?

“I can skip this meal.”

Why can’t I afford that house, yet?

“We didn’t have renter’s insurance.”

MY soul is crying out.

Why don’t they care?

“My license is suspended, officer.”

Why doesn’t my mama/daddy/sister/cousin/friend love me the way I need to be loved?

“My son’s sick. But I gotta get this money.”

Can anyone see me in all this HD?

“Maybe if I get a job mommy and daddy will be ok.”

I hate my hair. My thighs. My eyes.

“If only I was perfect, then they would love me.”

The enemy is trying to attack in every way he can.

I hate my job.

“Am I going to work like this every day for the rest of my life?”

Lift yourself up.

Our souls are crying out.

“What kind of example am I setting for the life entrusted to me?”

Get another job. The kids can stay at the sitter’s a little longer.

“How am going to pay this fucking light bill and my cell phone bill?”

War cry.

“I won’t go to the movies at all this year.”

Feeding your body?

“Art is fun but you need to make money.”

Housing your soul?

“I feel guilty every time I buy something for myself.”

Devil you can’t have my soul.

“I can’t be happy unless I have an outfit to go with it.”

Do you wake up excited? Lifted? Anticpating?

Devil you can’t have my mind.

Do you have it all figured out?

Does anyone have it all figured out?

Yeah? Well then, what are you doing to pass it on?

Because around you, Everyone is losing patience. in HD.

We have lost outlets for anger (aggression, sadness, passion).

Unless those outlets generate revenue.

Because adulthood means —

passion cost time we don’t have —

and money we struggling to get.

Anxiously aspiring. To what?

Understand that your passion and emotion challenges every system in place to stop you.

The enemy is attacking.

Sadness explodes into suicide. By self. Not an Odyssyian death of honor. There are no heroes here. Not a warrior’s death. Or an explorer’s epic. Not for political gain or maneuver. Just senseless slaughter.

Not by even just by natural disaster. Or invading threat. By self. We are killing ourselves.

At home. On our lands. We spill the blood of our youth then consume it in HD. Justify it on HD.

And yet wonder why we are killing ourselves.
Camo should only conceal soldiers in battle. America is full of patterns.

Somewhere the artist dies and watches the ego perish.

Who are we without art?

Does the alientaion of labor have to result in the loss of purpose, passion, principle, conscience?

Somewhere along the way —

We allowed our power to be stolen and fed back to us,

in data streams created to make us spend of ourselves at alarming rates.

There is an art to freedom and it exists between here, there, and survival.

But we have to believe that we all DESERVE survival.

We Gotta fight.

There is an art to living within the realms of your ability to feed your passion.

So that you can change the world.

To focus more wholly on the present and people —

By selling curling irons.

and not be too damn worried or too damn holy about making it to tomorrow. —

So confused by wrongful teachings.

Why are we always trying to escape?

What are we trying to escape?

Televisions are dope. Cell phones more. Video games? LiT! All the best tech systems out.

What are we trying to escape?

I refuse to believe we can’t grow. But we have to pay attention too. America is laden with human rights violations and corruption that prevent the political system from functioning to protect its most important resource — the people.

Are you willing to barter your life for that system you hold in your hands?

Can that system protect your children’s future?

This is spiritual warfare.

Well, how will you spend life with that system?

Because goddamn it your breath matters.

In its control? Or will you attempt to control it?

That system will have you believing fatherhood is just monetary.

When devoted fatherhood is revolutionary.

Materialistics swallowing our culture.

Can you even see them in between breaking your ass to survive and trying to keep everyone relying on you alive?

reist.

Joy is resistance.

Knowledge is resistance.

Art is my resistance.

Fucking Resist.

This is spirtual warfare.

Some people are so lost that they will sign their kids up for roles that don’t exist in the hopes of payouts that will never come. —

Always aspiring. Aspiring. Always. But to what?

we are so confused by wrongful teachings.

The question remains.

What are you aspiring to?

The money…

Who is in control?

the fame…

What is in control?

…the violence, the hatred, the drugs, the lust.

Now that we can SEE each other in HD.

What are we seeing?

And how will it change what we are being?

we gotta fight.

How is your heart doing?

Are you taking it all in?

Or do you pretend that our passive prayers, political correctness, and peter piper privileged giving is enough?

How art thou?

Our lives are filled with dramas we walk the line of hiding obsessively and sharing compulsively. — Threading in between an identity whether we acknowledge it or not.

Do you want a revolution?

Why do we feel invisible with so many eyes?

No, I am not a spook like those who haunted Edgar Allan a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids — and I might even be said to possess a mind.

I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me… It is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard distorting glass.

Ralph Ellison
Book of Revelations. ch 7. verses. 16.17.

What does an American boy have to do not to be invisible to you?

Soon the world will stop asking what do you dream of making in your mind?

What does your heart create?

The drama felt in the last moments of a game-clinching shot

They shall hunger no more.

Absolutely mirrors the drama of completing something from your heart that represents a part of you.

Better yet.

That game ends. And that memory fades.

Unless it lives in you. Unless the passion for what you completed in that moment is so addicting, so thoroughly necessary, so entirely a part of you — that you work until its that moment again.

Then.

Neither shall they thirst anymore.

Then you are an artist.

Do you want a revolution?

And your passion for what you created in that moment will remain. And even if you can never create it again, you may chase it for life. Attempt to teach it. Build from it. It is what makes you beat. Tick. Molly wop. What makes your heart sing?

Does it create you in motion, slashing huge brush strokes across fields or courts with your body distended in joy?

We have to stop letting money alienate us from our craft. Our art. Our resistance.

Everybody trying to make a dolla

Are you in motion?

The art of moving the body through space and time fluidly, repeatedly, steadily…

Why do we punish kids that need to move all day? What are we teaching the artist in motion within them?

Maybe your art form is bound up in your ability to debate one point after another, defend and then retreat, regain and capture a verbal enemy to slaughter.

I said, do you want a revolution?

Politics can be artistic and oration is powerful.

Putin’s career is nothing if it isn’t brutal and epic poetry. —

Putin may be an enemy of America and the world. Idk. He may not. Who knows?

He’s definitely a political artist.

Whoop.

Or maybe your medium is food, and you create the most appetizing canvases filled with scrumptious delights in sugar, salt, fat, and more.

The Earth birthed you paints of vegetables & fruits and you have delivered the magic sustenance mixed with pleasure.

Some people paint landscapes of acceptance with Jesus as their brush. Devoting their passions to Him and His heart. Just as the righteous and worthy in any spiritual path do.

When we can truly embrace a life unfiltered, and full of differences, challenges, and setbacks… Yet we still lead people in love.

The best artists make us all better for their glow.

Even when they say we move too much

Artists. People devoted to their passions have lost support for their causes.

People have lost their taste for passion.

Or rather, the good people, with good passions, have lost the energy to believe in themselves. 

And there are so many layers and layers of enemies against art. 

For some reason or another, a lot of people believe that they don’t have a taste for ART or they don’t have the capacity for art.

The colonized and eurocentric definition of fine arts has rendered a generation of humanity mostly ignorant to the artist that lives within.

Ain’t no stoppin’ what we doin’ when the spirit is movin’

Well.

I think we need a revolution.

I think it’s because somewhere along the way we forgot what art is. 

What do you think some enemies of art are?

And figuring out what it is again, it could be my life’s work. And it will definitely be a large part of the subject matter for

Tape A, Side 2. Define Art.

The Book of Revelations
Chapter 7: Verses 16 and 17 — (yes sir)
They shall hunger no more
Neither shall they thirst anymore — (preach preacher!)
And God shall wipe away — (yes sir)
Every tear from the eye — (yes sir)
Get ready
For the revolution — (come on, come on, come on, come on, come on)

Sick and tired of my brothers, killin’ each other
Sick and tired of Daddys leavin’ babies with their mothers
So every man that wanna lay around and play around
Listen partner you be man enough to stay around
Sick and tired of the Church, talkin’ religion
But yet we talk about each other, make a decision
No more racism (no), two face-ism (no)
No pollution (no)
The solution (no)
A revolution

No crime (no), No dying (no)
Politicians lying (uh), Everybody’s trying
To make at dollar, it makes me wanna holler
The way I do my life, the way they do my life
There’s gonna be a brighter day
All your troubles will pass away
A revolution’s comin’, yes its comin’ comin’ brother
A revolution’s comin’, yes it’s comin’
A revolution’s comin’ comin’

Even when we go they say we move too much
We do too much
If you step against us
Then you lose too much
Ain’t no stoppin’ what we doin’ when the spirit is movin’
Don’t be hatin’ what im doin’
I’m the vessel he’s usin’
Everywhere I be they try to judge me
They try to shake me
They try to buzz me
But they can’t break me ’cause I’m down with Christ

Where my spiritual warriors at? — Whoop Whoop!
Where my Jewish saints at? — Whoop Whoop!
Where my Christian saints at? — Whoop Whoop!
Where my Muslim saints at? — Whoop Whoop!
Where my Buddhist saints at? — Whoop Whoop!
Where my Wiccans at? — Whoop Whoop!
Where my Voudon priestesses at? Whoop Whoop!
Where all my saints at?

I don’t care how you fight. Bring your crosses. Roll out your prayer mats. Throw your chakras and spells at the enemy. Call that Voudon gyal with the strange magic. If it’s science you pray too, then lets get to theorizing. Go get your Buddhist chanting friends. If you own a dragon… Get that motherfucka too.

This is spiritual warfare. And in 2019. We gon need errybody.

Welcome to my war cry.

Art is resistance.

Now let’s start a revolution.

#LetsGrow

For your thoughts — A poem by Amiri Baracka.

Credits

Written and Edited by Herstun.
Shout out to so many amazing artists, thinkers, and believers that have influenced my thought processes over the years. It’s interesting to see some of it come out. Even if it’s fractured. Can’t wait to learn more.
Dedicated to every Tamir, Philando, & Sandra; every Anthony Bourdain & Kate Spade; and every soldier that dies at home.
https://www.unfilteredmebeauty.com
https://www.who.int/
http://www.snapnetwork.org
https://www.telegraph.co.uk
https://www.militarytimes.com/
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Thank you for checking out my wilde ass thoughts.

15 thoughts on “Meet the Curator. Tape A. Interlude. — My War Cry — feat. Queen Naija, Kirk Franklin, Zora Neale Hurston, & Ralph Ellison w/ a lil’ bit of Nikki Giovanni, Kobe Bryant, Freud, Marx, Amiri Baraka, 2chainz, & alexandrajay

  1. Although reading this became confusing at times I like what you’ve done. It’s vert artistic, which fits perfectly with the feel for this blog post.

    Thank you for sharing.

  2. Wow! It’s as good as I thought it would be. You write with such a powerful stream of consciousness. Just about the time I think I’m following, you’re flowing into the next thought. Its like trying to watch a wave roll onto the shore and the waves just keep coming and you can’t keep up but you’re in awe of the beauty!

  3. I love reading this and so much of it seriously resonated. The musician in me automatically put it to a beat, so it was like I was listening to a live performance <3

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