Reply ID: y6kw

Virika,
Xzyst here.

Piankhi gave me your reply, and the one about the font looks like it was for me. My bad for the delayed response. Piankhi is very reclusive and doesn't read his mail right away. I spend a lot of time alone preparing for my mom to pass over into forever any day now. The combination of lack of communication and alone time leaves me to do my own thing and focus on our forthcoming issue titled The Vent. Had it not been for this project WODZP, I'd be more destructive than constructive right now.

And the plus side is each issue of the zine continues to get better. Issues #2, #4, #5, #6, Poetry, Prose & Condz Volumes 2 and 3, Sun 2 Suns, California on Blast, and now The Vent were all developed in very trying times. However a better product came out of it each time. :)

To answer your font question:
Piankhi is featuring different size fonts in his NGR vol. issue, so he wants to put your queen and my kind in facing pages next to each other. I did the K & Q like that because Piankhi came up with that idea, and I thought it was very unique. He does that a lot. I'm not asking you to do it. I was just sharing your big bro's creative energy.

Anyway, it's your call on the font and size just as long as each poem fits on its own zine page. So just fold one piece of paper, put queen on one side, and next to it on the other side of the fold, put king so Piankhi can glue them onto the page without needing to send out for copy reductions. Hope you send them to Piankhi soon, as he is ready and set to release NGR Vol. 1. That issue is super powerful and hope it ruffles some feathers. So far it's my favorite WODZ issue, but I cna't wait to see what Piankhi does with The Verses for NGR Vol 2. That thing is a whole other animal, energy and spirit, and may end up being my favorite.

Yes, you did transcribe the first chapter of the Verses, Piankhi is putting Chapter 2 in NGR Vol 1. But he's putting all six chapters and the encomium in NGR Vol 2. So from cover to cover, NGR Vol 2 will look like a small prayer zine with a piece I wrote titled "To Young Piankji" at the end. It's a cold eulogy. Please print them all.

Also enclosed is Chapter Six. I was moved to only put two stanzas in Chapter Six, and titled it "The Motorcade". Just imagining what a fallen police officer's funeral would look like if inner city youth respectfully took over the graveyard escort motorcade, how that would spark the conversation that nobody is having, and the impact it would have going viral online. OR maybe I'm the one one who thinks like this?

Peace is an action word. We march down the street and take over the freeways for everything else. Some will ask why. I say why not? They get paid to escort us to our grave. We war against war by serving up peace for free. Virika, nobody has done this yet.

Take care,
Xzyzst forever!

====

P.S. Attention, transcribers:
Oh snap, almost forgot.
I've been reading the @Golgotha Interviews and noticed transcribers read my chicken scratch handwriting that misspelled the world Golgotha.

It's two o's and one a.

The misspelled Golgotha does not exist, and we could get called out of this misspelling that is culturally misrepresented.

Although our transcribers spell the title right on the blog, the body of the content displays the misspelled Golgotha several times, especially in @Golgotha with Waymon. The @Golgotha Interviews are filed under interviews at BTB.

@Golgotha with Joe
@Golgotha with Lil' Detroit
@Golgotha with Young Joker
@Golgotha with Wyld
@Golgotha with Waymon
@Golgotha with Piankhi

My bad for that second vowel being an "a" in my horrible handwriting. The correct spelling is "@Golgotha".

Thank you for your attention.
Xzyzst

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The NGR Verses:

Chapter Six
The Motorcades

A black boy
born on the streets
of these United States
hunted by police
privacy, they do invade
stopped and frisked
is how he is raised,
framed for the portrait
and make a captured slave
death penalty on the scene
while attempting to escape
from being escorted
to the grave,
by a police motorcade
—Xzyzst

Falling tears from
the eyes of the proud
dripping down the cheeks
narrowly creeping into
the lips creases of
a fallen police officer's
mother's puckered mouth
She just found out
that her tears taste
just as salty as
a black boys mama's doubt
that her son will ever see
police, escorted to their grave
by an inner city youth motorcade
—Xzyzst