amongst heavenly bodies.
if the sky decides
that it’s better for the stars to
disappear, then i’ll make sure
to leave with them, (to live with them).
2000.
if the sky decides
that it’s better for the stars to
disappear, then i’ll make sure
to leave with them, (to live with them).
2000.
easy breathing.
amongst heavenly bodies
everything re:turns
filaments
god and its physics
in third person
making oneself immortal
making plans for forever
on the belief in travel
plain truth
registering into/info
short term memory
song for the return to nature’s love
your gods versus mine.
your gods are weak and dying inside, but mine are
strong and growing around.
yours allow ignorance while mine open minds.
yours demand faith, mine suggest i reject it.
you seek salvation, i just need a guide.
yours turn you a disciple of false idols, pimping your
prayers, forcing you to pray to him, mine lets me
just speak to it.
yours, omniscient, doused under the scent of salty
tears, wars, and blood and blood and blood.
and your gods are burning while mine is just being,
being born and reborn with each breath.
yours exist in sacred texts, mine in the whisper of the
wind, eternal.
09.23.01.

poetic ethnography::incantations

poetic ethnography::incantations
10.22.01.
I.
mistaken for an island,
trying to find security
in how lonely and
empty everything feels. things then repeat
false instances for one, of two hearts fading apart.
II.
they all repeat the empty promises
of youth and beauty, but where lies truth-
in hades rotting?
the universe aching to be loved.
aching to be, loved by anyone.
strength comes not from a show of might,
but from the realization
that day and night are a cycle without end.
power comes not from the barrel of a gun,
but from a total rejection
of what’s been assembled as reality for us.
freedom comes not from a violent revolution,
but from an understanding
of the universe as one infinite space.
infinite space.
02.16.01.

poetic ethnography::incantations
oh world (if we don’t try).
i am a disciple of marx.
i was a disciple of marx.
oh my brothers, i have lost my religion.
oh my sisters, my brothers have betrayed the revolution.
oh my brothers, do you really believe that your violence will save us?
oh my sisters, our mothers, our fathers, the whole world is conspiring.
i am no longer a disciple of any discipline, and now am lost.
oh my brothers, my sisters, my friends, my people, i am solitary in this desert in marley’s concrete jungle.
oh my fellow artists, my heart grows weak, becomes filled with contempt.
oh people, this is only my attempt at trying, at trying to reach, at trying to reach out- for humanity to reach out towards everyone.
oh people, i am so ready to love, love the world and not the mess it’s in.
oh my brothers, you have lost the war with this world.
now, you truly believe you are of this world.
i am of all the worlds, using all the words- those unseen and those unheard.
trying so hard to relate to humans, but skin has the feel of alien.
this is just a game that you are all playing, but i am living my life, not playing mine because i am not afraid of being hurt and losing.
people, we are on our own.
the only thing we have is each other, but with the way we treat each other, so why even bother?
oh humanity, love is all you need, love is all we have, and not, more ammunition to shoot off your mouth.
the silence of my heart is what keeps me going, what keeps my soul screaming.
oh my brothers, love your brothers, my sisters, love each other, oh fathers, mothers, this world is losing us.
we are letting all true feelings fade away.
the revolution is a commodity that brings safety.
as long as we pretend to be fighting, we will never create.
are we even trying to see positive results anymore?
oh, i really thought people cared.
people, i am losing my religion, and i do not want to lose my faith in humanity.
oh my people, where will we be if we help destroy ourselves?
i wear my tears on my sleeve.
oh people, i am so lost.
we search for justice and for love from the feelings around but never from within, but my heart belongs to me.
revolution is a constant battle towards constant progress, and not something that ends after the fighting’s done and the masters replaced.
oh my brothers, and sisters are you against oppression or against being oppressed?
will you just turn around and do the same, operate with the same destructive hate, you claim to be against?
i am not an angel, a devil, or a rebel, i am plain simple, acting angry does not make one a revolutionary.
the way communists explain their idea sounds nice, but the chinese and cubans place dissidents in prisons like america is doing to mumia.
if you want to kill each other you’re already doing it, you are just being slow about it, you don’t need a revolution for that.
communism is not the people’s solution, just middle class brats like me that felt guilty, like che and lenin- that thought they needed to save everybody, but we’re not gods or superhumans.
i mean if there even is a god, it has already proven itself to be imperfect thus the reason for us.
we’re just beings that need to try to be, stop creating ideologies, allz one so why divide it, son?
as humans what gives us the right to kill one person, what stops us from just killing everyone- to me it is clear that humans are not the best judges of value.
you can’t create anything with destruction, just end up with a lot of scattered little pieces and confusion.
oh people, today, if there is a revolution, it will be evil because it is hateful and vengeful, try one based on love, and all the bombs and guns will just seem dumb.
my revolution is never ending and starts inside everyone.
my revolution wants to change things that we do just because that’s the way they’ve always been done.
my revolution just wants people to try, to try and that will be good enough.
if the whole world just tries, to be human, oh my people, just try to be people, realizing that we’ll never be perfect, but can never stop trying.
2001.

poetic ethnography::incantations
individual dreams and planets.
I.
in an age of sleep deprivation and depression,
night assimilates with dreams,
and retaliates against hopes never aspired.
and angels hide in their exclusive universe,
pretending not to be searching
while wishing on stars for peace,
despite the distance.
II.
cling to dreams:
one shouldn’t speak in tongues, no one uses anymore.
01.29.01.