no, you're cool, no worries...
but when it comes to black culture?
i'll just have to listen to
actual African cultures,
waiting, hoping,
   for the Africans with a suffix,
or a prefix: e.g. afro-saxon
get over their:
                  enslavement guilt
from previous generations...
       as many have noted:
    i own a cotton jumper...
but sure as **** i don't own
a cotton field...
                 fatoumata diawara's
song bonya..
honestly?
  i haven't imitated a drum kit
with my body...
     it's like a momentary variant
of sydenham's chorea...
****... all this generic music
coming from the mainstream
is by comparison:
stale as a packet of crackers...

but i still don't like rap...
i should know...
  having visited Kenya once...
Africans are so adversely
different to the blacks in
European countries...

   for one... they take pride in
speaking their language...
ivory beauties that look like
their bodies have been oiled
with coconut oil at night...

i don't like rap...
even if some bleached albino
takes over the trends...

did you know that Kenyans
import most of their timber
from Ghana?
  yeah... started talking to his
barmaid over coffee and cognac...
huge presence of Muhammad
in Kenya too...
some even own crocodile
farms...

                   and my...
falling asleep outside on the shores
of the Indian sea...
  in the morning:
you drank my cognac?!
where is it?!

          three Kenyan beauties
saw me sitting all alone...
thought i was lonely or something...
i was just watching these
German tourists look like
oafs at the bar...

              i don't exactly have an
elaborate cognitive narrative...
i used to...
      i kind of liked it...
   i could talk in my head for
hours and hours,
working out the labyrinth's
worth of pointless details,
intricacies...

      now? i'm a slingshot...
my head's filled with a silence
more profound than that
of the universe...

            i'm silent to the existence
of god...
    let me reiterate...
   when has god become
an infantile posit for thought,
or something more obscure than
a posit of thought?
        i don't pray...
   **** that mumbo-jumbo Zulu voodoo...

but i can't think of a more
motivational posit...
sure... "self"... yeah, that'll work...
nothing... oh, even better!

i'm still trying to think about how:
"god" became a source of
mental illness - a delusion -
and then subsequently became
a major trait of infancy...

   hell... if children conjured up
the concept of death...
   i'd be glad...

it's like: being liberated from
the internal voice "syndrome"
i sit, and ingest a grand abyss...
   on the odd occasion when
three Kenyan women approach me
i become a reflexive creature...
cognitively impaired,
but empirically saturated
by an emphasis...

           no... i really am cognitive impaired...
i can only have a cognitive narrative
when i am facing the mirror of thought:
a blank page...

          otherwise...
my fuel is music, thinking has become
secondary, subordinate,
to the feeding of
   nichts aus da-sein,
as much as...           sein-da aus "nichts"...
i.e.
         nothing out of there-being,
   there being:
   being-there out of "nothing".