She sages herself as part of her move from sleep to wake and going out into the world of the wide open eyes…Who is she sage-ing towards? Her dreams?…her self?..the world to come?
I am inspired by that smoke and cleanse hopefulness, for every single time I have been told of the value of this, it has been to clean out evil of others former presence, never to cleanse horror or pain or agony or trauma found within…wicked woman. Maybe more need to sage themselves, stop looking at others to blame for their circumstances and take some responsibility.
one of the most amazing poetesses I have found, for she doesnt waste a word. and it isnt singsong then chorus, made for an audience, in carefully packaged moments. once she opens her soul she is relentless in her openness and feels like she means everything. an assault on the senses. she is also amazing, primal goddess in this>…
I’d bow down and pledge my eternal allegiance to that Woman. She seems like Pele goddess come to humanity and suitably rageful.
Who cares what they are saying when they sound this good…yet the lyrics, when heard as words with meaning beyond the sublime harmony of hippetyhop bounce, plateau into steady mundane and then suddenly scale wicked wisdom…I am no feminist. I dont share lady hiphop to promote myself as a modern day crusader for pseudo feminism to nourish the fight against male toxicity (for there is equally as much female toxicity, its not at all a gender specific issue). I just like strong women who have something useful to say, as I like strong men who have something useful to say…I’m not drawn towards the corporately disseminated identity politics routine with anything but disgust. I’d rather meet a transexual who doesn’t tell me in our first conversation of their non binary existence, and non cis leanings, just tells me their name, and lets me see some of their heart and soul and spirit…
“Donald Trump aint my fucking president”
The final Lady on the mic aint the women outline in the mong empire Drake and Lil Pump videos…she is more instantly amongst the finest rappers of all modern times.
Equally potent far closer to my own steady day dream of tribe, Dessa…
We’ve been lovers and strangers and friends who get angry
Made mistakes and amends and brief moments of magic
We forgive and forget and give in to attraction
This whole thing depends on amnesia and madness
And I’d be leaving for good, I’d be looking for better
But I got this broken habit I keep gluing back together
The fever, the fire, the feathers
The fever defies measure
And good sense won’t venture where the moth will go…
Dessa is as potent in her truth as any poet I have come across in dust or life. She reminds me or leads me towards, the two who have some connection.
Wild spirit, brazen broken heart.
Shared with few to glean any idea of who they truly are.
One in such a flurry,
nobody could ever see her,
so know her,
but the animals…
the goats and chicken and Muon fiend familiar…
too many catch a glimpse and think she is mainly,
to their desire,
a punk rock lady of the lake…
and she is,
but she is also far more,
and to find any time, any breath to believe in a man in love with even her echoes…
has left her too alone for any world which was Right or Love…
She is Dessa.
More than Dessa,
in her poetry of the heart which she can pour out with such connection to pain that it hurts to read, her words are tears dripping and flowing. Let alone hear and feel her roar.
Poetry, meaning, eloquence and soul soul soul…but our reality? We are at war.
Its raging a blizzard nearer than many perceive.
And had been brewing for a while>>>
I’m just that little man stuck in their strategy
They don’t want me living happily
And recently I’ve rapidly realised that they’ve been gradually trapping me
Terrorists in the news make you fear for your family
But seeing all this organised tragedy’s got me scared for humanity
And I know it ain’t the truth that they’re handing me
Can’t you see what you’re doing for vanity?
So much wealth in this world yet most still living in poverty
Rich aristocrats on TV giving money to charity as a novelty
Then drive back home to one of their five properties
SO let the poet men and women play the bard,
open their souls wide and roar loud and proud with their zeal and howl of a spirit,
to inspire more to live with their hearts open no matter the pain…
and let those who feel the need to fight and rage against more than their own woe, bare their fangs>
Others have been rising up against our Overseers for many moons and their message holds more urgency than when they first warned and told us>>>
I want fifty three million dollars for my calloused hands
Like the Bush administration gave to the Taliban
No happy-ever-after…a legacy of bastards.