Benjamin Earl Turner

I REALIZED THEY WAS AFRAID OF ME ONCE I STOPPED FEARING MYSELF I’M MR. BEAT EVERYONE ELSE I’M MYSTERY MAKING MY MARK I USED TO PICK AT MY SCABS TO FIND THE HURT IN MY ART USED TO STARE AT THE SKY AND TELL IT TO SPLIT A PART I’M A YOUNG MIYAGI EXPOSING MY BRUTAL START NO MATTER IT’S MARTIAL NO MATHERS I WAXED POETIC ON WAX OFF AND ON CLOCK TIL MY BARS GOT TIMELESS AS A ROLEX WRIST WATCH AMERICA, THE ROAD TO HELLS PIT STOP EVERY GHETTO LOOKING LIKE A FAILED FIELD OF CASH CROP THAT’S WHY I AIN’T LOYAL TO THE SOIL I’M LOYAL TO THE SEED THAT’S WHAT I CARRY IN ME THAT’S WHAT YOU CARRY IN YOU PLANT MY FLAG IN THE PLANET AND TURN INTO A WOMB I’M PROUD OF MY SKIN TONE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON ME INSIDE THE COUPE TO THEM IS A WHOLE COUP ROLLING WITH SOME HEN PLOTTING MY NEXT MOVE CAUSE IF YOU MAKE THEM CHICKENS FLY THE PIGS MIGHT FLY TOO

I'm like a dead billionaire; a relief on the world.

dogs are the black people of the animal kingdom

i remembered to forget, and have been blessed ever since.

if it was perfect i could only love it less.

thorough like henry david tryna ball like larry david transcendental and syndicated i’m executing without hesitation demagogue mode 2012 i was the bay bridge to chicago yelling pivot at the shows like i’m gang banging i’m from the clinton generation but it’s still fuck ronald reagan i’m eating chicken from the gas station watching 3 strikes, the comedy ain’t age well and neither did that crime bill the type of rhetoric they used is what had got trayvon killed but we already knowing the irony knowing the iron ain’t for us knock the wrinkles off a forehead, then do time behind iron i’m trine stay focused SNAP card at the Grocers, i’m on a fast i got some needs need met you bet i’m on the internet searching which god to ask you yahoo’s really be on that woo woo its like a mini skirt how i’m making that coupe move i’m only talking cars cause i’m talking roads and mine goes to glory that’s a promise on my daddy momma my bitch 2 spirit kids call em daddy momma These rap niggas really acting out they daddy trauma Eating pussy is therapy so it ain’t a wonder how you lacking healing and clarity Pulling up with Mary Mag like verily verily Validating that my presence mean I’m bringing the drama And I made this for posterity I’m alone in my room I been smoking all day I got sin on my mind And these demons won’t wait You could always change ya mind But you can’t change time And what happened is what happened But you ain’t chained down

We back.

TL;DR - I might never release music again, let alone make it. I’m tired, in a desperate way, a pale way. This project is what it is, not what it could have been. It’s the shadow of a vision I grew too impatient and enflamed to manifest in flesh. The word became shadow. Yell Pretty means I can’t sing, but then singing is just yelling pretty, and I can do that. It was also me drawing strength from my favorite yellers: Nina Simone, James Brown, Van Morrison, Tracy Chapman, etc. You know, just having raw soul and emotion. Yell Pretty means use what you have. Yell Pretty also presents the juxtaposition brought on by extreme paranoia and anxiety. I think we’ve all dealt with that. We live in a beautiful world, but often times my voice wouldn’t reflect it. Conversely, we live in a chilling world, and on the right day, listening to the right person Yell Pretty, you’d think it was utopia. If you helped me at all on this, in whatever the way, thank you. If you came to the listening party, thank you. Forgive me for putting out a project that isn’t what I promised. There was more, but I couldn’t bring it all together. Some of my closest friends know me to have a strange dilemma. I’ll share it with you now. I’ve never been able to discern if the roadblocks I’ve encountered while pursing my dream of being an artist are a test, or a sign. A test to see how bad you want it, or a sign to abandon the road you’re on, because it’s not for you. From the beginning I perceived everything as a test. I’m not studious, but intellect doesn’t depend solely on study habits. I’ve been passing tests since the beginning, since I lived a 3 hour public transit trip away from the poetry slam but hustled my way there anyway. Since senior year recording with Kritta in the garage. Since releasing song after song. Since paying for studio time with money from rap competitions I’d win. Since working for McDonalds. Since sneaking on trains to get to shows. Since having no dedicated producers or musicians to work with. Since moving to Chicago with $700 and a bag of self published books in 2012. Since community college class after class, all the way to graduating with my Bachelors Degree on a full ride. Since recording songs on garage band in my bath tub using apple headphones and a high thread count comforter to sound treat the space. I been seeing everything as tests. Thinking I’m passing. But I think, now, that creating this project has been a sign. This fall I’ll go to graduate school, I’ll write, I’ll travel. I won’t make music. If I’m given a sign that I should be, it will be a welcomed one. #peace. #YellPretty

We back.

We back.

We back.

We back.

We back.