Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.
Last year – and a time before that – I posted “Ohm” during my National Poetry Month celebration. And there will come a day – probably – that I will again post the Saul Williams poem. Today, of course, is not the day.
This year I chose to include Saul Williams in my National Poetry Month celebration. Because, like Andrea Gibson, his words resonates loudly in the world I live.
For the tenth poem, I present to you “Said the Shotgun to the Head.” Please enjoy.
Once again:
Your love: a mixed tape the car stereo ate; a sell-by-date, batteries not included, rough around the edges; scentless potpourri
from Chapin City Blues
I started to celebrate National Poetry Month. And I pre-selected each poem the day I made my decision to do this. However, April 29th and 30th were left unfilled. I didn’t know what to put in there. During this time, I discovered (for myself) the poetry of Grace Carras. So I had to give her one of the two slots.
This last piece took me years to write and hours to record and mix. And I hope that you enjoyed this journey as much as I.
Thank you.
My introduction to Saul Wiliams was through his 2007 album, The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of NiggyTardust! which had been produced by Trent Reznor. The first single, Tr(n)igger held lyrics that resonated – and still resonate – with the time: “You wanna blame them boys from Lebanon and cat like you don’t know where they get it from?/You wanna project all your problems and murder every hope to solve them?/Would Jesus Christ come back American? What if he’s Iraqi and here again?/You’d have to finally face your fears, my friend/Who’s gonna hold your hand when that happens?”
After devouring the album, I started digging for more. And found his poetry through the process. There’s a lot of poems that could be posted, but “Ohm” was the first I listened to, and, therefore my favorite.
I hope it’s as powerful to you as it was to a 24-year-old me. Enjoy.
I am no Earthling, I drink moonshine on Mars
from The Seventh Octave: the Early Writings of Saul Stacy Williams
And mistake meteors for stars cause I can’t hold my liquor
But I can hold my breath and ascend like wind to the black hole
And play galaxaphones on the fire escapes of your soul
Blowing tunes through lunar wombs, impregnating stars
Giving birth to suns, that darken the skins that skin our drums
And we be beating infinity over sacred hums
Spinning funk like myrrh until Jesus comes
Chapin City Blues 