that when drunk and drinking green tea
I feel closer to the mysteries of far away Nepal
Himalayas so pure and unrefined
skin so weathered and honest
smiles so unapologetic
people so humble and genuine,
than to the spoiled whites of middle America?
Here in the beer drenched cellulite of the mind
paved streets with steroid police
backflipping ghetto boys
drunken religions
almighty thou
sloshed in the collective wealth of a cult apart
America's enclaves...so many small societies within one
Why am I again here? in the position of a lowly servant?
a niggard to the glutton?
It is clear that now is the time for the proverb
to lead or be lead
for in America
you are master or slave
from time immemorial
*sigh*
duty and family
mistakes and laziness
I couldn't take the hard of the cold
the biting frost of freedom alone
homelessness or begrudged servanthood
my dumb meat earning bread
I dream of being a voice
of being a strong and stable drum
but to ears that do not listen
and will not believe that the feast is over and done
only when desperation and famine strike
and the feeble boned frames that haul lard around from boutique to boutique are forced to live and die by wit and arm
may I finally spark the spirit of those who need love and leadership
There is no humble American
---
I sigh
a tear away from my daily death
merge with vesper consciousness
floating miraculously above the world
far away from the shrinking door
fading
into the rain and clouds
