The Sound of Blackness in Space

The universe is unreasonably silent …         still …
we give it vibration
    we give it sound
                                            we give it soul
                                        we give it rhythm
we give it jazz.
this gives it life.
If gods need a raison d’etre
    ours is sum creation.
    Sing songs for me    …
                    sing songs of me.
The sound is a worship —
        fuel for vessels of soul:
        not only clean, but
        joyous energy —
            … sing me across the sidereal.
Parsecs deep in firmament
equidistant parallax —
there are graves
xenodeity —
the ghost of a thousand stars
light unto light
blackness unto Blackness.
We were born Illmatic
    that’s why the world is ours
    it was in our instinctive travels
    that we discovered this power —
                    now, can we kick it?
     Yes We Can?
there will be false idols
            Go on then —
The sound is a revolution
Mama taught me how to connect to the mothership; it sings
the same songs we sung.
it talks like us
        it walks like us
it bleeds like us
        it feeds like us
it’s fly like us
        it’s high —
The mothership is a body —
            head, shoulders
            knees, toes
strong like gravitational waves
strong like gravitational flows
The sound is a warship
    like a closed fist    turned meteor
sound can be            is
        an extinction event
sound can be
        a weapon.
Be mindful of your inheritance.
Perpetual motion;
as time expands
    so does the Black —
you can’t contain the universe
        you can’t outrun it either.
Black is the space in which I occur
nothing exists
without me.
Sing songs of me     …
            sing songs from me.
In the womb of the mothership
I heard            funk & Motown
I dreamed        jazz & hip-hop
I felt            the breaking waves
            of sound and gravity
            the collapsing of stars
            the surrender of galaxies
                        the blues of aftershock & ripples in the fabric,
They told me:    there is no confessing
        for your absurd sins.
there is no pre-extant thought
that liberates beyond refusal:        to have masters
                    to have kings
                    to have gods ( 
                            any god beyond the self
                    ) to succumb. 
Off into the Black
        go the mothership —
    take me with you:
            you can sing songs from me
            sing songs to me …
        or you can just make noise.
Sing songs with me —
reverberate in my head
resonate with my dream
of an optimism I’ve not known
beneath the sun of an alien god,
back home on Earth.
oscillate between dimensions,
be defiant of time & space
the black can only calculate the worth
of works done for the eternal.
Sing songs about hope
sing songs about love
     sing songs about life 
     sing songs about stars
sing songs about that time we almost died
because we thought we were inconsequential … 

or we can just make noise.

Jovan Shadd would describe themselves as a describer of things, thus the poetry. They believe the goal of poetry is not to be liked, but to be felt, and they hope that you feel them. More: Instagram @a_rapping_goat