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Literature Text
Basquiat pukes;
King Samo
Basquiat says:
"I will make this beautiful…
Beautiful for you."
He defecates and hurls,
marking his murky palette.
Sticks his finger in the shit and swirls it around
until you see a crown.
And a king.
He is the King .
And he pardons you.
“Are you high?
That’s ok.
I understand,
I’ve been through that too.
I hurt so much,
my body forgets what pleasure feels like.
Someone offered me their endorphins,
and I said okay.
The spit from my bleeding gums
makes a heart,
a pretty valentines for you my love.”
Well that’s all that he can afford.
King Samo
Basquiat says:
"I will make this beautiful…
Beautiful for you."
He defecates and hurls,
marking his murky palette.
Sticks his finger in the shit and swirls it around
until you see a crown.
And a king.
He is the King .
And he pardons you.
“Are you high?
That’s ok.
I understand,
I’ve been through that too.
I hurt so much,
my body forgets what pleasure feels like.
Someone offered me their endorphins,
and I said okay.
The spit from my bleeding gums
makes a heart,
a pretty valentines for you my love.”
Well that’s all that he can afford.
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I wrote this in 2001, before all the rehype of his work. I still like Baquiat's work, very gutteral and raw, it has a sinister childlike-ness. He was an interesting character and clever in many ways.
© 2007 - 2024 beatrixxx
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