About Me

Blac Garner
I'm seven different people. Six of them are dope ass rappers.

Gideon Wildflower
Most would call me a writer.. but most don't know what the fuck they're talking about.

We are both @APurpleUnicorn .

Saturday, September 24, 2011


Titties are interesting people. They are the only people that really understand me. Everyone else says, "Hey, you have to believe this or you're stupid." Or, "hey, don't believe this or you're stupid." So much fucking pressure. Fuck all that. Conversations between me and titties are so much more calmer.

Titties: Hey Gideon
Gideon: Hey Titties
Titties: I love you Gideon. Look at how I shine for you. Look at how I make you feel. Feel that? That's love.
Gideon: I love you too Titties.
Titties: I know.
Gideon: -sigh-
Titties: Hey Gideon..
Gideon: Yes, Titties?
Titties: If you want to you can lay on me. I've noticed you staring for a long time now.
Gideon: I know you have titties, it's just... do you think she'd spazz the fuck out if I did?
Titties: Fuck her Gideon.
Gideon: You can't say that Titties, she and you are connected.
Titties: No. You misunderstand me Gideon. Fuck. Her.
Gideon: Oh.
Titties: Shit, she's talking again.
Gideon: I know. She does that a lot. I wonder why.
Titties: She's frightened of how you make her feel. She's frightened of finding herself in your silence.
Gideon: That's a useless feeling.
Titties: I'm sure you can relate though.
Gideon: You're absolutely right, Titties. How else would I know that's a useless feeling?
Titties: -laughs- I love you.
Gideon: I love you, too.
Titties: I love you so much, I'll show you a secret.
Gideon: Really ? Oh man, I'd love that Titties.
Titties: Come close so I can whisper it to you.
Gideon: Yes, Titties?
Titties: -whispers- If you kiss me like you love me, if you really focus on how much you love me while you kiss me, you can get this bitch to shut the fuck up.
Gideon: Aw shit, really?
Titties: Come now Gideon, lies exist in her realm.. not mine.
Gideon: I'm speechless.
Titties: then don't speak . Kiss me Gideon.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


There's this woman who I haven't met yet. And I've been in love with her ever since we started our digital contact.

She told me I've been big headed lately. She said

"It's like you're not looking at yourself anymore & if you are it's only a fraction of what you used to do, you come up with one albeit brilliant but still limited idea, the audience goes mad, your ego is satisfied and your dazzling brain has nothing more to do."

Reading these words threw me into a despair that I couldn't shake. I was angry with myself for allowing this woman to have such an effect on me. My sudden sadness at her words made me angry with myself. Who is she to you? I asked myself. There is only you, I told myself. And then I realized that I was enjoying the despair. It was fitting. It felt like putting on a sweater that I hadn't worn in a while. I went outside for a walk, listening to Ghostpoet, and I relished the role I was playing. It made me smile to be sad. I was the scorned artist for the entire world to see, to gawk at, to dissect.

And then I went into Manhattan and met up with an old friend from high school. Being ensnared in her world, her reality for a minute allowed me to break free of my own sadness. And I did it fluidly. There was no opposition once I realized, without thought, once I really felt that my emotions are outerwear. I shed them and put on others with the ease of actual clothing.

And as I was headed home, I began listening to my mixtape. And my mind started doing something, that it's been avoiding in a long time. It started planning. I've got a running plan for my life right now. It's, as all plans are, frightening, but the fear isn't me anymore. It's outerwear. And it feels appropriate for planning. It'll keep me honest in the wind.

She was absolutely right. And I was absolutely right. This woman's got a hold on me like you wouldn't believe. I feel her underneath me. Not like something separate. I feel her like I feel me underneath me. I feel us underneath me. It makes me aware of everyone else. Only, they don't have her eyes. Her eyes see it as clear as I do. It's not something I can deny. It's not something I want to deny. I feel like I need her. I feel like I don't, I feel like I have her always no matter the circumstance. One doesn't need what one cannot lose. I get scared to tell her something's sometimes. Worried about how she'll understand it, what it will say about me. That used to be my biggest fear growing up, instilled in me by my father; that someone would understand something about me that I've overlooked. That fear used to define me. Now I don't speak to her sometimes simply because my mind is moving too fast, and I don't feel like going back to type it all.. It's going to be great talking to her.

My father told me in high school that I was too stupid to be involved with women. I'm going to ask him what he meant tomorrow.

Monday, September 5, 2011

30 Days, 30 Poemas / V

A Verse

Unforeseen circumstances
Pulling them together
Kept on pulling
Till it's pulling them through one another
Now it's pulling them apart
But the pain of the tension is a necessary beauty mark
Now they know the difference
Now they see the surface unimportant
Or we pray they do
If they pay attention
But maybe that's a heavy fine
When entwined
With what reeks of sorrow
But tomorrow brings
Another different choice
We take it
Or leave it
Seldom in between
Its something for the mind to make complex
Got me kissing on her neck
Skin mimics images in thoughts of what that pussy do
Cells excreting wet in excess
I mean I start to sweat
mean my skin is wet
entrapped in heat's hold
memories of tongue's touch
provide the right cold
Unlocking the key
Two cycles rubbing up on infinity's tit
Bare closets and see secrets

30 Days, 30 Poemas / V

Sunday, September 4, 2011

30 Days, 30 Poemas ....

day 4

enjoy the rain for the droughts come soon
i pity the man who complains of monsoons
and he pities i for daring to pity
his laugh at the circle like sounds from the city
they banter, they banter
they jest, they jest
my fever is cooled by the warmth of my chest
and picture the man who cant picture himself
no one knows a thing like the poor man knows wealth

Saturday, September 3, 2011

30 Days, 30 Poemas ...

Day 3
A Free in the Day World

Walk outside
nice night
a little chilly but sometimes a breeze feels good
complements the fire of the human spirit nicely
Lily's with me
we have hula hoops
makes me feel like a dance
she gets angry because I have headphones in one ear
i'm chilling, the music is delicious
Walk in the store
deli groceries populate the Bedstuy corners
Guy at the counter says they're from Yemen
Admire their beautiful language
even though it's coupled with suspicious looks
pull money from my pocket
their faces soften
... they are not their confusion
Walk outside with new plastic bags
Mine's containing
honey bun
dollar water
& blueberry poptart
sugar makes hunger temporarily leave my doorstep
tobacco smoke
feels good while you're smoking
not so good afterwards
living in moments
A park
Lily suggests we go in
Good suggestion
Sit down, exchange dreams
She thinks my calm is a phase
I think that's cute
...they are not their confusion
Medina & Wolfe
their badges shine in the street light's soft glance
Wolfe takes the lead
pointless questions
writes down our names
Gives the usual Babylonian response to mine
A stutter coupled with, "can you spell that?"
I'm used to witnessing this matrimony
asks where it's from
I tell him I was named after Patrice Lumumba
first prime minister of the Congo, murdered by our government
He seems uninterested
I giggle inside
Medina seems disturbed by my stare
I can tell she doesn't know what to make of me
"Perhaps he's trying to intimidate me"
...they are not their confusion
Lily doesn't have I.D.
Wolfe runs my name in the computer
comes back with court summons
and handcuffs for Lily's wrists
She struggles, I feel useless
Lily doesn't dig the situation
She lets Wolfe know that
Wolfe doesn't dig Lilly
I run to the house to get her I.D.
while running, i tell my soul to stop crying
...they are not their confusion
we are our own victims living with drama as our sustenance
death is necessary and we fear it
God, we fear it
as we suck on the dark tit of society
i throw the key in the lock
it's so lonely in this world where money is God
i throw the contents of her bag on the floor
it's so lonely in this world where money is God
i grab her passport and rush out
it's so lonely in this world where money is God
running back now
They let her go after much deliberation
As the cops pull off
I hear my father's laughter in my head
I smile
Just another free in the day world
Just another
free in this cold and lovely world