#new lit

[jdslaytontheauthor]

More to come! Pug Bonus! 💜

Look for a bonus art book to accompany Pug the Novel. It will include all the ooak art and digital designs from the book, plus plenty of new designs not in the book! Stay pUg~dated @ jdslayton.com 🤟

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[poetdreamerfool]

still, I blossom🌹🥀🌹

my ancestors scars on my back, my brothers and sisters scars on my front; memory blank: a wizard spell in the blunt; fear-- my good luck charm; Midas fingers, death for arms; going akimbo with pocket lint crawl out the cradle, get to the grave in a sprint.

everything is bent. sword-like crucifixes affixed to heart and minds; used like eucalyptus, panacea, ambrosia;

Pangea-- run that back; you can be whole. if you sell your soul and buy all the hate you can-- lighter skin, better man? show me who I’m better than.

I've been playing musical chairs With my seat of consciousness, onyx words on brown-bronze skin; cuff scarred wrists; destiny on an exodus-- I need it all-- no less for this; fuck it, hand in my face I’ll still hit the bucket; ruckus-- too black to know what luck is, no safety net, no crutches-- still I blossom.

[poetdreamerfool]

slave ship of thesus 🚢⚓

they gave me dirt and ain't expect flowers to grow now that they’re up to here they want to see how high they’ll go-- once they scratch the sky they’ll want me up that beanstalk jack! facts. feeling a little giant-- not fe fi fo fum but the grocery store: a source of life open 24 hours-- I file ennui and existential pain next to my other sources of power right by the old trauma and new bones-- well not really new; I’m on the slave ship of Theseus wondering how we went from hating whips and chains to craving whips and chains; I get privilege to accrue debt-- hashtag blessed-- I won the game I guess? the one everyone else playing don’t look the same I can’t tell if I don’t feel no pain. or I just can’t process it, maybe coping and numbing are the same thing.

[poetdreamerfool]

#nothrone 🤴🏿👑

you can’t feel me, you can’t know me-- you ain’t even fully there but yall still get the participation trophy;

matriculating low key, somewhere where they buy drugs like groceries it's cold-- but we don’t say freeze; we just take-- we don’t say please. some hunt to eat, others eat to hunt but the ones you gotta watch just eat;

tell death 5 more minutes-- we up in it, game twisted; lost souls uplifted; when you gone and broke its like you never existed- 

dead ends every other route, you try-- but the words ain’t coming out your mouth, you thought you were in but you’re out. you ain’t seeing home-- but you a king you don’t need no throne.

[poetdreamerfool]

secret of mana

I am a noun becoming a verb, a thought becoming a word; this music makes the interstate, interstellar; I need a fortune without the teller; no matter what happens the world keeps spinning like propellers-- there ain’t no secrets in my mana treat the pen like a samurai does katanas— baggie full of bonsai, eyes on tie-dye; trap synth beat got the speakers doing Muay Thai; bam bam never play the slave of fate, have an inner peace that is harder to kill than hate the only thing cleaner than my kicks is the slate; I wish they would of said the monsters in your head are way scarier than the ones under the bed; day dreamin’ stay schemin’ it all started with a little spark; a tiny drop of light in a perfect dark. defiant— some art doesn’t belong inside a museum some beasts don’t belong inside the zoo some feelings don’t belong inside you; you find sovereignty in expression not the lost and found; thought then sound; live and direct reality is a suggestion what once was submerged is beginning to crest a collection of nothing: poverty is 83% less than nothing 17% almost something. which side you on?

© poet.dreamer.fool

[poetdreamerfool]

break the immersion

I’m a living masterpiece I ain’t been out the lab for weeks; remix the ghetto fab Incoming missive: black people on drugs go to prison white people on drugs go to rehab;

smoky coliseum; ahoy gladiator-- you can’t capture Mecca in a photograph. put your soul in your sword when facing the horde but first learn to laugh--

step back; post modern schema for the get back; hand in the collection plate; you can’t give back sins-- the truth ain’t ever early but it ain’t ever late; altered state while I watch this world spin.

I need at least one eighth for certain, three fifths a person; I’ve seen the light through a crack in the curtains; earthen, a bro with a code-- whoa closer to Bushido than Malcolm x but way more Malcolm than Martin; expose people for who they are word to Khashoggi; try to save the asshole before you cut em off word to Kenobi; then I’ll give them 81 word to Kobe-- what a time to be alive. there’s a difference between electricity and static; reactions are automatic-- no safety some seek to grow but I’m seeking passage I don’t need to spectate as the modern fade to classics.

© poet.dreamer.fool

[poetdreamerfool]

what are words?

too high to care; dancing like Fred Astaire through the flames; the things we feel don’t come with names but we feel them all the same, something funneled from an unlimited source-- or course I don’t know which way to go; over the course of one night I’ve spoken a broken heart back together than apart again; I’m trapped in it zen seems otherworldly and nothing feels sane. the clean parts of  me feel like stains. the child like city lights do little to illuminate-- eureka-- bright ideas aren’t the best things in the dark.

[poetdreamerfool]

no idols

cursed with a predilection for valiance; I’m loud in my quiet places; moody, faceless-- I gotta run the table to feed the table; sour grapes-- no wrath; sour kush plus the spark of creation; whiplash; what do I do with all this sweet sad music? earthy chakra-- I miss being angry; whatever this is ain’t my final form. my ancestors ain’t leave any footprints for me to follow; which way do I go? good chiba, high; under-achiever; a skywalker with no father either; they’ll go til we extinct that's why we require these predator instincts; the fit flash; designer jeans, karate shoes, and a big link; glory requires a seed of righteousness; “who’s night is this?” screamed the brother, the king who’s crown didn’t need to be seen to know it was there; seconds to spare but the cop says I’m out of time. so I’m out of time. what does that tell you about reality and its perception?