The Dead Emcee Scrolls by Saul Williams Read Free Book Online

Footsteps from side to
    side. I am forming figure eights with my feet.
    Footwork, centuries old, reconfigured for the
    present. NGH WHT: the expression on my face,
    the name of the faceless. One hand on the ground,
    then the other. Baby swipes. Legwork. Knee spin.
    I’m nice with this shit. Hand spin into windmill
    into head spin: Revolution. Here and now, NGH.
    Who’s next?

CHAPTER 28
    In a past life I was a wood-carver’s knife. The
    sharpened blade of a woodcutter. The eldest
    son of the chief’s brother. A maker of drums.
    We scraped the insides of goat hides to find
    the hollows where sound resides. Offering
    the parts we did not use. To invoke the muse.
    Music of the ghettos, the cosmos, the negroes,
    the necros: overcomers of death; disciples of
    breath. Dissection of drumbeats like Osiris
    by Seth.
    Breakbeats into fourteen pieces. Dissembled
    chaos. Organized noise. A patchwork of
    heartbeats to resurrect true b-boys. Be men.
    Let’s mend the broken heart of Isis. Age of
    Aquarius. Mother Nature is furious. While
    you rhyme about being hardcore, be heart-
    core. What is it that we do art for?
    Metaphor. Meta-sin. It’s an age of healing.
    Why not rhyme about what you’re feeling?
    Or not be felt. Deal with the cards you’re
    dealt.
    Calling all tarot readers and sparrow feeders
    to cancel the apocalypse. Metaphorically
    speaking.

CHAPTER 29
    The corner coroner. I smoke for weeks. Dead Pan,
    like dead man, through chimney peaks. I streak the
    skyline. I blew through bird. High notes. I space
    float. I’m lost for words.
    The storefront preacher. The Sunday best. The
    dangling cross between legs, on chest. The country
    farmer. The hoedown champ. The rhythmic armor.
    The cosmic dance.
    The buck and gully. The native son. Bigger and Deffer.
    The freshest one. The sewed-in creases. The flavored
    twills. The confidence snorted through dollar bills.
    The “Fuck I care for?” The boldfaced lie. The been
    there and done that. The do or die. The dirty dirty.
    The filthy clean. Thugged out and nerdy. No in
    between. The blackest berry. The sweetest juice.
    That complex NGH born of simple truth.
    The solar/polar. The chosen side. The black face
    mammy of the bluest eye. The battered woman.
    The dream deferred. Now caught up and paid in
    full, that’s my word.
    The jungle brother. The sly and stone. Rock hard,
    NGH. Give a dog a bone. The marrow’s morrow.
    The newest breed. The headline merger between
    word and deed.
    The search for balance. The quest for peace. A
    tribe called NGH. NGH WHT, the chief. The
    distant lover. The close-up clown. The iced-out
    grill with the screw-face frown.
    A wealth of violence. A violent wealth. You caught
    up, NGH, better watch your health, the beat is dope
    though. The junkie nod. The use of breakbeats to
    beat the odds.
    The odds are even. I paper rocks. Rocks smash
    scissors. NGHs trigger Glocks. The blackened
    target. The dick-long chain. NGHs kill NGHS
    in Jesus’ name.

CHAPTER 30
    God and pussy. Objects of desire and ill repute.
    Some’d rather seek up high, than dig and grind
    that inner truth. The angel of my eye a bit too fly
    to substitute with any other form than the messiah’s.
    Black Maria, mother ship, grandmother moon
    and sea. The wave and form of beauty born
    of Eden’s apple tree. And every single atom
    stands erect and prays to be the follower she
    offers sweet communion.
    Holy union. Let me see you wind it, just like
    that. Move your hips from side to side. Come
    forward, push it back. Let me know firsthand
    the land of glory that I lack. I surrender all to
    you if you’ll surrender back.
    Holy crap. Where’d you learn to squeeze it
    tight and then move it slow enough for me
    to question everything? You slowly start to
    tremble. Heaven’s walls begin to sing.
    Tsunami ever after. Cosmic slop on everything.

CHAPTER 31
    Shower me with blessings. No second-guessing.
    â€™Cause God, herself, is