24 (No Thanks) – E.E. Cummings (manuscrit, 1935)

fundem una revista…


..al diable la literatura
ens cal quelcom que tingui sang

pollós de pur
pudent d’encarcarat
i agosaradament obscena

però realment neta
enteneu-me el que vull dir
no la deixem degenerar
fem-la seriosa

quelcom d’autèntic i delirant
sabeu, quelcom de debò com un grafit
en un vàter

dotat de collons i collonut
de gràcia?”

estreny-te la rosca i destapa’t la cara.

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Pregunta-ho a la pols – John Fante (1980) (& Kate Tempest)

Casa nostra és casa vostra, segons John Fante

“Jeia al llit i pensava en ells, mirava com entraven i sortien a batzegades de la meva habitació els flaixos vermells de l’hotel Saint Paul, i em sentia miserable perquè aquella nit m’havia comportat com un d’ells. Un Smith, un Parker, un Jones, jo mai havia estat un d’ells. Ai, Camilla! Quan era petit, a la meva terra, a Colorado, eren els Smiths, els Parker i els Jones els qui m’ofenien amb els seus insults; em deien espagueti, macarroni, llardós, i els seus fills em ferien tal com jo t’he ferit aquesta nit. Em van fer tant de mal que mai vaig poder ser un d’ells, em van empènyer cap els llibres, a tancar-me en mi mateix, a fugir d’aquell poblet de Colorado, i de vegades, Camilla, quan veig les seves cares, em torna a fer mal, aquell vell mal, i de vegades m’alegro que siguin aquí morint-se a la llum del sol, desarrelats, enganyats, per la seva pròpia manca de cor, les mateixes cares, les mateixes boques dures, encarcarades, cares del meu poble, omplint la buidor de les seves vides sota el sol ardent”.

Traducció de Martí Sales

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Europe is lost, America lost, London is lost,
Still we are clamouring victory.
All that is meaningless rules,
And we have learned nothing from history.

Kate Tempest: “Europe is Lost”

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Bitch, don’t kill my vibe – Kendrick Lamar ft. Pharrell

I am a sinner who’s probably gonna sin again
Lord forgive me, Lord forgive me
Things I don’t understand
Sometimes I need to be alone
Bitch don’t kill my vibe, bitch don’t kill my vibe
I can feel your energy from two planets away
I got my drink, I got my music
I would share it but today I’m yelling
Bitch, don’t kill my vibe; bitch, don’t kill my vibe
Bitch, don’t kill my vibe; bitch, don’t kill my vibe

[Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar]
Look inside of my soul and you can find gold and maybe get rich, hol’ up
Trinidad James in four weeks
But now my album platinum and shit, so what
Y’all keep the numbers
I’m more than another statistic, my nigga
This courtesy of Compton
Brooklyn go hard, motherfucker
Love me on the East like I’m Chuck D
Dominicans wish that I was born there
I’m lookin’ to be the god MC
You look at my hat and see thorns there
I look at the game and see porn there
I’m fuckin’ this industry hard
I’m back at this money, teabagging your honey
You thought I was fresh out the yard
Don’t cry to me dummy, you’re lightweight
They tell me you nice and I’m like, wait
Go get me a knife, you’re looking like steak
And when the stakes are high, I stay down for days
And when the water inside, you’re probably pool shaped
We thirsty nigga, never alert me, nigga
I got a P89 in a suitcase
I knew you heard me, nigga, this is the a burpee, nigga
Lyrical exercise
Right now, homie, I’m in the extra vibe
Pipe down, it occured when you heard that I got these words
To the upper echelon, that’s excellent


[Verse 2: Jay-Z]
Up in the clouds, me and my spouse
Rumors on the ground gettin’ too loud
Please turn them shits down, can’t hear myself think
Turbulence, shit, almost spilled my drink
In the whitest with a mink
Gunnin’ through that bitch like it’s my house
All up in the hall like a mall
Told you motherfuckers, all I do is ball
No, I don’t ‘member you, I don’t intend to empty my memory bank
It’s a million dollars in it, baby, Hilary Swank
Next to Hilary smellin’ like dank
Presidental pardon, name one nigga out there harder than him
I’ll wait, I’ve been in my weight like 20 years straight
I’ve been on my vibe like 20 years straight
Don’t fuck up my high, don’t fuck up my high
Nights like this, I could fuck up a pie
Still keep straight and still be straight
Fall back, bitch, I got a lot on my plate
Don’t waste my breath
I don’t know how many moons a nigga got left
Back to this joint, smokin’ this shit like I’m tryna’ prove a point
I’m the highest, the highest title, numero uno
Kill my vibe, thats your motherfuckin’ funeral

[Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar]
But you ain’t you and me, turn eulogy to urinals
Niggas pissed off
I’m in this lil’ diss shit, I’m pushin’ my fort
Leader of the new school
On my toes like a ballerina
Who knew I’d be black swan
World in my palms
Ironically, I am the Globetrotters’ best
Cause I didn’t drop the ball
Told niggas when I was 16 that I’d write a 16
To put a nigga right on the big screen
In the paddy wagon with 16
Should have been in the pen
But now my pen write with morphine
I heal niggas, touch down with more fiends
I kill niggas, audio crack
Khakis to meal ticket
Cardio lap, was running for dear life
Now I’m running the map bitch I’m here nigga
Picture little old me giving a fuck
For what a fuck nigga gotta say
Nigga you’ll never be Jay, never be Nas
Never be Snoop nor Dre
You ain’t get killed in Vegas
Or hit a Suburban
Puffy Daddy wasn’t your favorite
So many washed up with detergent
But I don’t dry tears, I just aim at them on purpose
Like bluck
14 like bluck
Empty out another magazine like bluck
Hit a young nigga like bluck
I kill ’em all when they try to kill my flock
I am the bad, the good God
The last the hood got
The last that would try to pass a good job
If Shyne’s a black Beatle
Then I need a 10 second drum solo
See you at Woodstock

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