Cardiac Acculturated

I have an ode to genes
a song of acculturation
sing along with me
from castle to plantation
whether god descended
or picking cotton
the tune rings true for you
peasant or king
cabbage or egg
ain’t nothing
I’ve got a good mind to
ignore the world and run
anti-helio-tropically
from the sun
my nature in black
maybe my race is too
I am me and you is you
let’s for a moment assume
author and narrator and reader
unite
double, triple painted pointillism
what are we
but a compound clown
let’s vomit grease paint
shit rubber noses
ejaculate from our flowers
squirt, squirt, jack, jack
hey, man
don’t have a heart attack

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