A POEM TO SHAQ-FU KOON AND THE STRUGGLE

 

 

shaq-fu black lives matter

shaq-fu koon took his mushmouf flow to hit the very same willie kitsune horn that wished jiyū to the embassy prisoner who we know is all breezy among the fading pallid male nigra haters club these days as long as dem leaks can drain the hnic sucking the chicken bone marrow outta black planet visions a trick we should know by now to be james bonding as the one of longest azz hidden fundraisers for suitin-azz liars redirect those forklifts gentlemen and get some mo coal for dem chevy pickups y’know how they love to run and hate on dat ish so shaq-fu koon is called out of retirement to play the role he’s familiar with since those young fool days stand yo duteous azz under the net pick up the ball and suramu dat mugh while we keepers find new ways to turn that trick into roe besides what he know about grown folk bidness any damn way or remix the 16-bit console version where like then and now we kept asking what the jigoku where does he fit in and what’s this all about with no answers provided as we watch him mawashigeri ol skool sistas poppin magic spells outta poom poom outfits muted african drums tryna keep a beat no wonder shaq-fu koon still can’t find one for his constipated flow which could explain why he then hirateuchi the sugar honey sun state iced tea out of communities wit dat virgin bodega champagne still leaving us with the same three damn questions betcha he can’t even spell capers if they started hollering letters at him twerkin on mass produced bottle labels and while we on dat block some a y’all remember how shaq-fu koon got earth wind and fire’s instruction manual twisted and pointed at GOD with his shiri when asking no telling or was it imploring mamba to scale taste and tell well damn shaq-fu can you match a wine with that meal for us amateurs u know we don’t know how to act but c’mon shaq-fu oh wait let’s call you mr koon for the remainder of this segment make yo azz feel like somebody before the director says action remember you representin us we don’t want them to say y’all don’t know how to act so do dat under the basket dance again and tell the ungrateful kneeled the real dope bout dat quarterBUCK who don’t know his damn place don’t he know we rid that place of chocklats at least 50 years ago minnie’s left fillmore out reppin the 7 seas leaving behind putanesca for nerd hoes swimming in cappuccino masturbations couldn’t even keep a bs awning around for tsumi purposes but u here to spit on the kitsune bout caper and these other nigras to which you say iwouldneerdothat in a stream of colliding syllables bringing a new definition to fightin words mixing bang bang and five o but we’ll give you that we do the same thing these days you know we were like hol up when you went cantshowussomethingandthenshowussomethingelsebecauseofcertainissues hidin dat nōto ya tried burying under yo mata we assume both have the same owner yo who the hell even told you about how that stuff you put in martinis has a slow alarm clock as if there’s sumpn wrong with wakin up at all shoulda helped out sears broke azz and bought one yo damn self but we already know your response idontrunoncoloredpeoplestime.

[Note: It’s not my style to interpret pieces I write, but I felt a little bit of guidance is needed, given the times we live in. The poem was inspired by Fred Moten and a recent interview Shaquille O’Neal gave on national television. I respectfully used a writing style Moten used for his book The Feel Trio and removed letter case distinctions, punctuation marks and line breaks, leaving you with the freedom to channel your inner artist and improvise the piece’s delivery amidst a sea of abstractions and imagery. I’ll leave the rest for you to configure … ]

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