"Die before you die." -prophet muhammad

inside this new Love, Die, rumi stated, in his exegesis of the prophet muhammad's words. but shhh...don't mention the prophet. atleast don't say his name. rumi's words will lose credence. bettter to think of these words as rumi's for the new age spiritualist's who want no part in ancient mathematics. 

want to get deeper with al Khaliq. me. i want to. with this creative energy. so i threw out the mirror. i shattered it with my phone that wouldn't buzz with the texts i was looking for...wherefore art thou juliet? 

it was a store window on madison ave, after the parade, the one with puerto rican flags waving like a magic wand, like a national anthem before indpendence. the diamond shop's alarm blared and the cops had me down by my neck - freddy grey. they drowned my floating ribs till i choked. 

smoked the ashes of newports from my boy ash's stogie, and became smoke when the bombs rained a million miles away 29 years from now, when the last of us were killed and immediately memorialized in upstate taker-culture teepees to celebrate the greatness of these great seekers of this path of surrender  (islam). we were all mostly dead so we were cool now. we could be romanticized. our prayer rugs collected like feathers and hung on car mirrors like dreamcatchers. 

got my face covered. had it concealed since b.c.e...before isa came without a word. 

decoded freud and jung after the first million words of my room-mate in match for a phd at cornell. he  didn't know that i burned my degrees and pictures in a prairie fire by the colorado river a canyon away from the grand-canyon hidden tribe of rain-dancers who stomped thunder and storms...

...you could keep your psychological textbooks and destroy other people's lives just as yours is through mind drones that drop precision bombs on the mindset of ancient ways like turmeric for inflammation, until people of the ancient ways give it up and you have it.  keep it homie. it was never mine to begin with. go ahead sell it. that's what you do white/black/brown/yellow-man of the hoard-greed-consumer-cracker-boss-complex-disposition.

prayers. hugs. love. where'd you lose it? what made me want to lose it? to  be down. to be down with maya, i lost my heart and pink floyded into the nihilism of rick ross. 

al khaliq, if done right, will have you so invisible that bang bang...

i bang with a shawl and shari and shhh words from refugee bangladeshi ebony outcaste converts who jump a sinking 3rd world for below minimum wage. 

no i don't recite my poetry. i never even used that word, i told my sudanese queen, who cried herself into her grandmothers womb, till she was talking her mother's words on nasser and umm kalthoum.

Die...

...before you die, Die. 

...n how would u interpret that? friends texted back, when i shot it out with the proper punctuations and the reference marker - the prophet muhammad. 

funny thing is, they got it, they wowed, when i sent almost an identical text last year, with rumi's name after. deep. babylon psychology works on babylonians tuned in.

tuned out and listened to abdul basit cry quran from neptune satellites...you might know...maybe...

...tune in...and Die, by becoming a vessel, a collaboration with al-Khaliq.