Rhys Langston - Conventus (A Short Story by Muckraker Jones [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Went to a repentance convention
Got the shirt, the hat, the mug
A Donald trump tramp stamp
Clamped to a blood crippled
Jazz transfusion
Was no delusion
Of grandeur
Pasteur
Pastorius
Jaco, Oscar blade-running bass-line ordinance

[at home]
Ate my porridge quick
Was on the press guest list
VIP slip

The panels were alright
Took some notes for late that night
Saw no deliberate deliberating
Booth sections combed with sight:
All irrelevant
Muhammad’s yamaha
(Jesus’ horsepower)
Some bearded dude explaining how he got there

“Buddha” he said “straight shooter,”
“as the crow flies,”
Barber to a Sikh Mughal

Earned no cash
Instead created the zero out his ass
Abacus flash parallel to some
Zapotec Math
Just a ball inscribed upon the wall of a temple:
Rubber ball Spaulding
Used for Michelin incidentals

He invited me to a lecture
On conjectures
Of house negro problems in post-colonial Tribeca

Outside, a vendor was selling some New Holland
For some wampum
Or prophecies of oil futures
Shell of a man, comb over needed some suture
Think Karl Rove meets Mr. Burns sans appearance of a moocher

I kindly said no, scratched my fro, entered the door
And as I sat a power point showed Justin Bieber as a Sambo

Went to a repentance convention
Got the shirt, the hat, the mug
A Donald trump tramp stamp
Clamped to a blood crippled
Jazz transfusion
Was no delusion
Of grandeur
Pasteur
Pastorius
Jaco, Oscar blade-running bass-line ordinance

[at home]
Ate my porridge quick
Was on the press guest list
VIP slip

The lunch was reminiscent of some new edition soft ciabatta

Jimmy Hoffa would have protested with Bambatta
Remixed the salad
Replaced the soda pop culture with some water

I thought
“where is the redemption in high fructose Chocolate Davis
“Harlem salt shakers
“renaissance with bagels capers?”

Chucked it, stepped outside
Before the serving of Yahweh’s wafers
(into the sun)

Doubt was the paint of the shadow on my shoulder
Negrometer read incognegro
Poems in the folder

Nero took the G out of identity
Burned the construct down
Bleached his own historiography