Amas Muhammad's Page

Name

Amas

About Me

He has his black eyes and listens to his mother. His freckles are atomic bitter sweet pieces connecting the dots of a turbulant skyline. His thoughts are nappy and he wears his hair dipped in molasses. His soul rhymes with gumshoe and this rhythm is automatic. His boombox clairvoyance transmits through digital static. He reads heater graffiti and translates street talk science. He spits when he pisses. His love is burnt out radio towers pirating the senses. His body is boarded up on the corner of Lafeyette and the Boulevard. He is cool sidewalks after the riots. He tight rope walks in sneakers. He finds peace in the silence of abondoned America and weeps for no reason. He's the reflection in your cocoa wheats. He is brown sugar cane. He is free to become the flashy middle passage and has the power to dream beyond the tv. He is token. The token in your subay routine. Dropped behind the jukebox during Mr. Bo-Jangles. He's the token in this room and these tokens are his only reparations. Calling himself black american 'cause he doesn't dream of Zulu Kings. Detroit is his god father, the bastard son of Zug Island. He is the undeveloped negatives of a rainbow shot by King Kong when he toured New York. He tapes cardboard to the moon and breakdances with Neptune. He wheat pastes the clouds and plays nintendo when it rains. He is the Krylon rainbow child. And he is not a super hero but a phonebooth saved his life. His commincation is lyrical, dictating the future of mankind. His chain is just as fake as a broken heart. He also likes malt liquor and coffee. And Coney Islands in the space before the dawn, where bums are instrumental and the dumpsters stand silent. He plays typewriter piano, held accountable by the clackty-clack-clack! Clackty-clack-clack of his own symphony. He feels in technicolor. And his cock is Basquiat's last crayon, and as his addidas sprout wings he draws halo's above the city. He is Black Boy America.

You can be my friend if...

you're a
matador
boxer
or pimp.

Occupation:

writer, Detroiter, poet, asshole, chef

Favorite bands:

I seek new noise on the daily.

Favorite movies:

I live cinema and bleed ink.

Favorite books:

"You must write every single day of your life…You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads….may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world." Ray Bradbury

SAMO as an end to bogus pseudo intellectual. My mouth, therefore an error. Plush safe.. he think.

Favorite Magazines:

my own.

Favorite TV shows:

the wire.

Relationship status:

single

Orientation:

Straight

Zodiac Sign

Jack of Diamonds

Kids?:

Dresden

Smoke/Drink?

yes/yes