Dilettante Nomad

Made a quick beat and wrote a quick jam for Halloween.

A quick little poem spit during this quarantine.

BC drives in Houston releasing the feelings on the current pandemic we're living through.

This track was written and recorded December 23rd 2015 while I was stuck home with a broken ankle. The heavy news at the time was unarmed black men getting killed by police all over the country; most of the time the cops were not getting arrested for their actions of murder...this was my response, and things haven't changed much.

Champagne pops

To kill the pain like cops slaying another black teen

STOP

unnamed

unarmed

keep’em in chains, hoodies and barbed wire fences

lock’em in a yard like a dog that’s reckless

protect us not by fear and force

We here have lost our hopes in high courts

our justice has faults

they’re playing like sports

fussing and fighting

knighted for lost bodies

if it’s night, toss the body in the ditch

and unload a clip in the kid for giving lip like he did

He spoke up to the limp dick bitch with a badge

How can we fight a battle that’s matched unfair?

dispatched

send more units like flair

they fire them up

hired, tenured, retired

for what?

who are they serving when they’re programmed like servents to focus their purpose on numbers to hurt us?

quota counting, donut eating, soda drinking hounds

round’em up, the innocent victims, throw’em in the pound

they get paid by weight

scale’em, skin’em

‘they've been failing from the beginning, it’s their fate’

so they wail’em and kick’em

they’ve been ailing from the sickness and they can’t escape

this viscous cycle is vital to life

the squad has their rifles and they’re ready to shoot tonight

loot your life

loot for life

i got no loot

i got no life

we need roots like Toby’s trife

it’s trite it’s like “It’s normal, right?”

it’s regular news, it’s just everyday life

From ISIS to Ice Kids

PD to Vice Grips

Mike Tyson can’t fight this violence from night Crips

Blood drips down a telephone pole

Not even ET can make his call home

stop the violence

stop the greed

they’re both a by-product from watching capitalist TV

factual viewings of refugees left by society

grant Immunity, Amnesty, freedom from tyranny

tiredly I ironically am tired of fighting too

but lately I’ve noticed that it frightens you

get off your fucking couch and demand back your liberties

unite together, Black, White, Syrian, Mexican, Any oppressed alien

of any thespian ally

All of US

make a statement that 99% is done with this shit

stop killing us with blood money you dumb prick

cuz this private dick will slip into slit and bust some shit

I’m a fucking gumshoe stuck on my heels

but your hands up, cuz im gunning for real

Buca Buca boo buca, bu buca buca blah

If ultimate peace is the answer?

why do we listen to bullying banter

even schools are eliminating antlers

we should be hopeful for no postal disasters

you cannot achieve peace with war as the answer

animosity will brew under nervous laughter

cuz they’re plotting revenge to avenge ancestors

they’re invested

we're conflicted

ive protested, and i’ve shifted

I’ve been lifted, i’ve been level, i’ve been balanced and i’ve been disheveled

the devil tests our treble with our actions

how we act in trouble with our tactics

if we’re attacking or practical

acting logical with coherent thoughts is rational

passionate proletariat

they capture white flags from territories

terror and gory

im better with glory

an inventor of underdog stories

30 plus years with a hustle

historians ruffle through pages like “His story is outrageous, right?”

courageous

i’ve jumped through flames and made it

i’ve played the game and changed it

chained and been in cages

change is in the wages

trains have been raided

i’ve reigned as a sovereign tasteless ruler

but ive seen the light in being selfless is cooler

ive worn many masks

ive done many tasks

and if had many people ask “Why I Roam?”

I want a universal home from Key West to New York to Miami to Rome

Texas, Vegas, Barcelona, Madrid

We’ve finally made it like cajuns and pagans

slayed many demons

accept the peace kid

respect to each kid

B.C spits a 2020 piece and asks the audience to contribute stories and send them to [email protected]

It’s Elementary

Winthrop where i Win throw up

Migrains crushing my skull to no end

running to the rest room

graduate into mushrooms

dangers in the next room

manger haven, next moon

My favorite thing to do is Doing nothing

talk a little shit, play stick ball or running---

---to the corner, playing hey mister

Manhunting to dinner, playing school skipper

Jack the Ripper, Grim the reaper

bricks through a windshield of the women beater

teenager waging wars, pagers going off

dating little whores, late first period, aborting baby talk

Sex ed lessons, head next session

stressing over bush and Gory elections

how much you benching?

friday night mescaline

saturday wrestling

Monday test, i’ll pass guessing

Messed up, scholar-slave-ships students to NCAA’s

Every meeting starts with my name and the addiction I play

they’re all ears like dumbo’s

a circus full of rodeo’s

high, I’m eating oreo’s

wash it with a 40 - yo

same sad story - street kids do

hardly a consistent crew (pause)

too many soldiers lost to the shit we do…

It’s elementary

All the kids yelling

ally kids fighting

all the kids running

all are uniting

All that I see

Always keep fighting

all the kids running

ally kids unite

Universally we’re at universities

debt to my knees rolling up trees

blowing breezes out from the vanilla dutchee mouthpiece

bounced to the south to the west keys

resting, in nothing more than peace

a bottle of rum from the west indies.

Indo - I’m like Scrooge McDuck

every funeral crying “What the Fuck?”

stuck in a K-Hole searching for gold

truck breaking down on the side of the road

I guess I’ll set up camp with my kerosene lamp

free bases stole when the pitcher commits a bag

now i can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t do nothing

i met a special lady that reminds me “I’m Something"

I need a fresh start to control my beat heart

one more skip and I might just depart

Texting, Texas, mindless sex

NYLA’s in the oven and I need to protect

my family, damn me rambling.

I need to be a boss of this god damned gambling

Only risk I’m taken’s on me

I need to prove the world I’m more than elementary

Damn me, the risk is on me

proving more and more,

It’s elementary

This track is somewhere around 10-12 years old. I was cleaning up some disc space and found this track called "Spilt Beer". This may have been coming off an alter-ego I was going by when I lived in Albany New York BeerFeet.

Last month I was in San Antonio and found this little rant on my recorder about 9/11 and a shirtless man bathing elephants.

B.C stops by a goodwill before heading to San Antonio from Houston. He picks up a new rig for his recorder and spits some non-sense that began that morning.

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