Circumlocution Vol II

by Bomani Armah

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    In addition, the book Circumlocution Vol II will be mailed to you! A collection of poems, editorials and lyrics from Bomani's writings in the last 3 years!
    Purchasable with gift card

      $5 USD  or more


  • Get the first book from "Mr. Read a Book". Circumlocution Vol II is a collection of poems, essays and song lyrics compiled from the last 3 years of Bomani's writing. Covering everything from love, fatherhood and the Sandusky scandal to blacks and homophobia and the bible, this book is definitely the circumlocutions of an irreverent mind.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Circumlocution Vol II via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days

      $10 USD or more 




Get the first book from "Mr. Read a Book". Circumlocution Vol II is a collection of poems, essays and song lyrics compiled from the last 3 years of Bomani's writing. Covering everything from love, fatherhood and the Sandusky scandal to blacks and homophobia and the bible, this book is definitely the circumlocutions of an irreverent mind. With the purchase of the book you get a download of the 7 track album featuring appearances by Juno Brown, Lady Pcoq, Baracuda Black and Multiple Man. Warning, I make iPod albums. Not everything on here is family friendly.


released January 27, 2012

Produced by Bomani Armah
Engineered by Bomani Armah
Mastered by William Vaughan IV
Executive Produced by Bomani Armah & William Vaughan IV
featuring Mark "The Professor" Hatcher, Juno Brown, Lisa "Lady Pcoq" Pegram, Baracuda Black, Multiple Man, Olu Armah, Dela Armah


all rights reserved


Track Name: Bomani Armah & Juno Brown - Uphill Battle feat Juno Brown
Dedicate this one to everybody going through it, trying to find the other side...especially myself


Uphill battle
Take my time
On my saddle
and I'm riding, I'm riding
down hill climb

Verse 1:

Sometimes I think my life is boring
Take moments to silently cry for poor me
Not know what the future has for -me
Till I sit back and take inventory
While I feel that I'm always warring
I must review each chapter fo' I end this story
I see not only trials but blessings pouring
As I recount them my spirits soaring
the closer i get to the sun
Appreciate life from a distance i only get but one
accomplishments feel lightweight, failures weigh a ton
came to war with a knife tahe devil brought a gun
when I look at this losing story that I've spun
I'm not counting the battles I've won
How far in this marathon I've run
Leaving my haters stunned
Moments of pure fun
and great things that I've done.


Verse 2:

I can be so critical
Counting my accomplishments only in the physical
Not counting everything I've earned that's invisible
my life is a miracle
my blessings are spiritual.
each failure has a positive spin
cant appreciate the yang if you only see the yin
I've proved I have a soft heart and strong chin
Throw your darts they'll never get under my skin.
a tsunami behind I feel the tide rising
long way to go, destiny is the horizon
now I'm planning no more fantasizing
Now more hustlin, now I'm enterprising
When prayers come back marked return to sender
It separates the real from the pretender
I still shine so bright that everyone remember.
No Retreat no surrender.


Yeah. Dedicating this to the friends and family who remind me that I'm getting done, even when I'm beating myself for not doing it. Sometimes you gotta remind yourself that it's a marathon and not a sprint. Let's keep moving y'all.

Track Name: The Journal
I walk into the venue, and saw this book on the floor.
As distinctive as it was, no one noticed it
I wait for someone to reunite with it
No one does, so I walk close enough to read the cover

I’m curious about autobiographies,
but intrigued by journals
the untouched snapshot of a five sense
one mind
one spirit

who’s journal would you read
if you could read but one?

I’d read Jesus’ journal
a Nazarene carpenter would be a 1/10 as literate as waka flocka claims to be,
but his pops coulda just flipped a switch like Morpheus
downloading god’s version of Word Perfect to Neo
imagine the ease of editing Jesus’ autobiography
NO fact check,
or spell check.
It would be blinding to read after a while, every word would be in red.

I pick up the book
Hand bound cover
a visionary artisan had salvaged
the ruins of something grand
and left parts of their life inside of it
The temptation grows to read it
At least to see the signature.

The signing of your name creates a historical ripple
Especially when it adorns arduous,
rhetorical legal type
bonding agreements between men,
their government
and their god
words canonized by song and annual days off
words that form a Rorschach formation
compiled of scriptures passed down from
nomadic tribes of the middle east
Each add their biographical moment
A 5 sense
1 spirit
1 mind

Ideas float around
Philosophies blow in the wind
Nothing adds gravity like saying
“it is written”

we know this, jesus did not have the time,
the motivation,
or understand of its importance
to write his own story
a miracle birth and a crucifix death, the crux of your very existence
passed orally
through whisper
then in exclamation
then under the cruelest of tortures
before being written down
four generations later
giving it the creditability of a community poem

the book is pulsating like the tell tale heart
mad at myself, for being mad at myself
for wanting to know what I should not know
but there are things I need to know

mere accounts of jesus disappear between his ages of 12-30
you know how many questions I have for 13 ear old jesus?
when did he realize his divinity?
How did he interact with his friends?
Did his body ever fail him?
Did he have acne or diarrhea?
…how did 13 year old jesus handle morning wood?
No matter how he handled it, it was perfect.
Did he toss and turn, try to think about baseball or his grand parents?
Did he just say “peace be still”?
I feel betrayed by being held back from the power
he could have imparted this word
with just a few journal entries
bronze age tweets on tablets

by now I have determined to read it

What up Bomani! You are now reading God’s journal. Not jesus. His father. God
(flip the page)
don’t be shocked but every single page you turn to will take you to exactly the part of my journal I want you to read
(flip the page)
I know you only have a minute and 5 seconds left so I’m going to skip around to the good parts.

Day 1: I’m bored.

Day 100 million: I went to see the people of Jericho today. They have a new god now, he ain’t even cute. I wish they where dead!... ooops

Day 3billion 85million 211thousand 32: I was chillin with Beelzebub today, just shooting the breeze. He dared me to mess up job’s life, I dare you, I double dog dare you!” What else was I suppose to do?

Now: I am talking to you, I am always talking to you. Don’t ever trust a book that was supposedly written by me, if it has an ending.
Track Name: Bomani Armah & Lady Pcoq - Moment of Silence
Love is a language of laughter and tears
But the most telling moments are ones of silence

We have built this house
Where love reverberates off walls
And this isn’t sound
The squek of the door
The creaks in the floor
The pitch. The mood
We’ve tuned each other out
every story has been told
once melodic yarn spun across bedroom floors
like sunsets on desert horizons
like red wine on breath
like new velvet yielding to my fingers
now we just drone on
at one time the tenor in my voice held you
Now you wish I would hold my tongue
Sucked Teeth
Tapping fingers
The drum major in a war of words
the frustration is audible, so we change the play

Lost in translation
Not worth the frustration
There are no words for what I’m saying to you
Hush now
Not what but how
In my silence I have no choice but to be true

Your laugh brings color to white noise
Your accent flavors my morning
Your silhouette leaves me dumbstruck
Heart valves as metronome
Our minor disagreements show the beauty in dissonance
Our bedsheets soak in the echo of last nights love making
As you say my name in your own time signature
Struck a major chord
When the cacophony of life perforates ear drums
Leaving sky lines bleak
the air blanketed in rotted dreams
like raw knuckles on granite
the rhythm of your words is the percussion
that gets me back on beat
the perspective that brings my world back to scale
the conflict that resolves into harmony
in this duet, we pluck heart strings
until we hear

Lost in translation
Not worth the frustration
There are no words for what I’m saying to you
Hush now
Not what but how
In my silence I have no choice but to be true
Track Name: SupermanBatman
The simplest statement,
spoken from the heart,
is more profound
than scripture

I fixed a four year olds favorite toy
With little more then the flick of a button
He looked me in my eyes
And smiled like he was opening a birthday present
postmarked from heaven

"wow daddy, u r superman batman!".

This little vessel with limited life lived
And an inkling of a vocabulary
Wanted me to know I was greater then any super hero he could fathom

I walked a step or two away before it hit me, and I almost teared up. That is to this day the most profound compliment I've ever received. Not only was it a compliment, but an expectation

When it comes down to it, this is all there is
This is my only love, this is my only bizz
I don't event think about it, and I never mind
When I'm gone, this is all I leave behind
Despite that i feel so inadequate
He thinks I'm a godlike I think I'm bad at it
He appreciate every word and every touch
Makes me remember that I love my dad that much

the most amazing man the world has ever found
Could reach the top of the fridge without a single bound
with laser beam vision that makes the world melt
handle any situation with his utility belt
An American hero, the man of steel
his minivan was cooler then the batmobile
could jump from anywhere straight into his open arms
I had a superhero, no need for lucky charms

remember when I first became a teen
Before I knew what being a grown man means
Went thru that phase to define myself
Stop looking in his eyes to find myself
Stop listening, stopped calling
But knew he'd be there to stop me from fallin
didn't appreciate the time and effort spent
so he changed from superman, to Clark Kent

his biggest investment, his biggest drain
no longer needed batman, i needed bruce wayne
you took it with a smile, like "i'll be that"
knowing when i need super powers i'd be back
because he made it look so easy
The big things to raise me, the little things to please me
he's home, i don't have to be brave
my fortress of solitude his garage is batcave
The things he'd do without asking twice
Before I understood the meaning of sacrifice

raised three kids, we knew he where proud of us
played the background, perferred to be anonymous
as i sit here in awe of all his abilities
super human strength, cat like agility
X-ray vision reveals lifes mysteries
like superman and batman his strength is his humility
Track Name: PG Plaza
Ah, the perfectly processed PG Plaza purchasing experience

wish I was to revolutionary for Old Navy,
but co-op’s don’t sell boot cut jeans for $19.95

Me and my man are pimpin through


pleather bag,

and picture t’s median

two grown ass men,

comfortably silent

we see them,
sashaying the wrong way

my upper lip curls like plastic in the microwave.
my nose flares til kids
scampering around toy booths

see what I am thinking.


Sending not so smoky signals
a too tiny tee-shirt,
and a perm better than my mo…
…is that a mufuckin’ Louie Vitton bag?!
Damn bruh

I’m just about to let it go when…
soft enough to be silent but loud enough to be felt
comes the thinly veiled patwa lyrics
“Boom Bye-Bye to a botty Boya!”


“I can’t believe he said that out loud”
I caught the sing songy death threat being thrown
any louder and the prissy couple proudly strolling toward us would too.
You don’t get limp wrists
without a workout of dodging sticks and stones
but this cliché comes to life through this song,
From a culture

where gay bashing

is literal

the gasp succeeded to puff up my chest
with a self-righteous satisfaction
I am enlightened
raised in a blue house
of a blue county
of a blue state
But didn’t I just see red
when I feared I might accidentally lock eyes
with the queens sauntering toward me?
What does that say about me?
Am I a humanitarian hypocrite?
I mean, I would have missed the grand opening
of the American Indian Museum,
if it had fallen on the same Sunday as a redskins game.
The polling booth is now “Custards last stand”.
the Union now wed to civil war
I ain’t ready to see hard legs
with handle bar mustaches,

hand in hand
singing “We Shall Over Come”
same time,

I’d be the first to call you out for dat

Bull Connor

listen to lil’ youngins
You’ll here down low lingo about lesbians.
now I’m the old head, like the “Greatest Generation”
losing the sexual revolution

to the Baby Boom
Generation Y wave rainbow belts

around swaying hips.
Ahh, the rainbow, Gods promise
not to never again drown us


echoes off church’s brimstone
a sexual sanctuary for the frustrated and confused
Paul and I have long parted ways long
his sons still scream at sodomites
that I see simply as a symptom.
oprah successfully put black men in a sinister line up

we’re all usual suspects,
Kaiser Sose of a seedy sexual under world
sewing seductive lies, lisp-fully spreading soiled semen to sisters.

But… see…
that can’t be right…
I’m a sexy muthafucka, and I don’t ever get hit on.
Not that I want to! I’m starkly heterosexual!
When my sisters ask “does he look good”
I can answer without missing a beat,
but the slightest thought of being spooned by a guy
is disrupted by vision so knifing this duded in the neck.
What disturbs me more?
My violent response
Or the questioning glares formulating in the audience.

All I know is I am now uneasy, in the middle PG Plaza, asking myself pivotal questions
And all they where concerned about, was what’s in the window at Claire’s
Track Name: feat Baracuda Black & Multiple Man - She Wants it Rough

She want it rough, she want it physical
she want a roughneck a badboy a criminal
She wanna know you in a manner truly biblical
She want it rough ha she want it mmmm

Verse 1

She got a big house, big car, big lips, like a big star
she got a big ol ass like a flick star
and big makeup over big scars
on her neck and chest, face and back
hair messed up so she wears a cap
most days she be sharp as a tack but lately she been careless black
I asked her how she doin, she warmed up to me quickly
I said they call me Cuda she said hi my name is Nicky
I asked her if she'd like to get a cup of coffee with me
she happily accepted now we sippin in the city
she told me that her clients put those scratches on her titties
thats when I realized what looked like scars were really hickeys
she said I really like you come to my place for a quicky
this chick was freaky deaky froky doky fricky dicky
she said I know you love music so come and make some with me
I will be your new guitar and you come and pick me
come on and get country on it superman and dougie on it
Ugly on it Yes I could but fronted on it cuz she want it...



She want it rough she want it physical
she got a ring in her nose tounge and genitals
and for a fee she'll abandon all her principles
because she thinks that the money is so critical

She want it rough she want it physical
and so she wake up every mornin feelin miserable
cuz for a fee she'll abandon all her principles
because she thinks that the money is so critical

Verse 2

5'6", real thick, cute chick with a dimple
He was slick and talk quick in-a-86 continental
He worked the trap like it paid medical and dental
She wants it rough he don't know how to be gentle
Took her to his house that he run like a kennel
She remind him of his car but he treats her like rental
when they crash and burn it won't be accidental
she aint thinking while her ass is bouncing like this instrumental
While I'm a genuine gentleman
She so sweet and feminine
she's chocolate and she's cinnamon
She tasty wanna get entamens
Like pastry put my whole chin in it
need attention I'm her ridalyn
im stuck being her friend again
While he treat her like old school eminem
I aint superman but shes Gyna Lynn
knock her out wake her up and she fein again
Like "Give it to me rough and mean again
Get nasty and obscene again"
She goes real hard cause life is tough
She's a wrecking ball not a powder puff
When it comes to pain never get enough
Cause she want it, she want it, want it rough


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