pray

these days i'm dropping with the rain spilling into cafes to dry my mind of the news that blasts from the corners of eyes that reexamine my stubbles and look away, when they look at all. in ny the looks are suspicious, ethnocentric, drug store cowboys with lassos. but i got the drugs, the green and brown uptown kind mixed with a fifth of jack...

inside a bottle and smoking myself out of corners and public view, i watch myself like kurosawa van-goghing scenes of a poem that haunts him.

far enough from downtown, i stroll through a neighborhood that sees the air in me. invisible like lamposts and potholes...invisible like 19th century graveyards...invisible until the sun sets, when the threat of my most wanted face is no longer disgusied by liberalisms in books portlandiacs carry.

i carry stories, the ones no one told me, the ones that bump like silence after hours, after the club is shut, the bouncer gone, the door closed. still standing outside the cool and fall into an 80's melody of paratha, chicken curry, ammu's kitchen, abbu's philosophics...bhaiya's recreating a world of fantasy from the racist world outside our apartment. 

praying...praying for meaning...praying through these words...praying that we - beings who walk on twos - reach for higher than the ego that creates amnesia...that keeps the whips and scorns of massacre alive...

silencing the the lyrics that surface in my head when the tale of the victorious hunter is aired...lyrics...lyrics like dead prez: everywhere the white man go he bring misery/all throughout history/look it up/ everything them baldheads touch, they f it up/every govt he create, it be corrupt...

the white man is now a brown hate-spitting evangelical from india, a black president that is built more concomitant wars than any other president, a black presidential candidate who went from the hardship of hood to neurosurgeon and f the struggle and the struggling and anyone who is not me; the man is the indian governor of louisiana, a hindu convert to cracker, cracking lies so deep his tongue looks like mars...the man is latino, asian, black, white, red...the cross-burners are uniformed and raping, pillaging, plundering indigenous lands/ways...prayers for you...prayers for compassion...

praying for a world without guns greed and globalization.

praying for a world of honesty...of engaging with each other honestly...

lets figure this out together...

...start with prayer...humble yourself...

pray. bow down. surrender to the Source of Peace, the One-ness. all of us who are still here will also be soil and water and air one day...

...let go of yourself and get to Work...