| (no subject) |
[Aug. 23rd, 2007|03:40 am] |
What else can one do but to put one's arms around someone when their meaning - the everything that they want - is in being with Jah? To be away and delivered from all of Babylon's crap? When you see them already making their leave of this world, when you can see it in their eyes?
(When) Every step they take is a step they took to take them closer to Zion?
(When) Every word they whisper is spoken heavy with longing for Zion?
Oh, how the medicine wheel calls
Oh, how the medicine wheel calls |
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| G.T.E |
[Jul. 31st, 2007|12:54 pm] |
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Hai-Tai(de) kept to the right lane throughout the entire hour long trip to Occanum, and from there up to Ithaca and then North-Westwards onto Geneva. Though the doctors had predicted only a month or two tops, Hai-Tai(de) had been seen driving and smiling and laughing, sometimes in the heat of the day and sometimes in the dewey chill of the night.
At several roadside stops he begun to sense a great presence - one that America vowed to forget in the hopes that therein active forgetting woud be post-industrial success, would be salvation. However, despite centuries of such systematic repression The Great Presence still could be felt on a level akin to being too close to a bass amp, that kind of rumble and hum known only by having the blood and the cells vibrate.
On one of those afternoons where the car seems hungrier than usual for the horizon's expanse and wisdom, Hai-Tai(de) passed a river whose waters suggested that even with all sins considered baptism would still be transformative enough to change a man's soul so much so that he himself would remark aloud the experience of letting go.
"What are you thinking?", The Loon asked quietly into his ear.
"mmm... I can't remember..." he began to say only to quickly fade into deep thought.
"...I can't remember the last time i felt my wrinkles so much. Wasn't i just a young one a few moments ago? wasn't i?"
The Loon knelt closer to Him when it heard this, and then laid its head on his lap.
"Sometimes i think i can't even hear my own life crashing. It's like the sight of a thousand shards of glass hurled through the air, and the smell of twisted metal and heat - but all in silence. The blood rushes all around - so eager to escape from the veins and onto the ground..."
His lip quivered a bit, and in the background all that can be heard is the sound of sparrows in the tops of trees and distant cars on the 414.
"Will you remember me?" He finally asked The Loon.
No, The Loon wordlessly spoke, and it was sure that it saw a train of warm tears fall from its companion's face.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, he bade The Loon farewell and started to drive to a small town where he had heard existed an old church that still dealt with the ancient mysteries of guilt, thirst, and emptiness. |
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| The Tao of Jah |
[Jul. 7th, 2007|01:12 pm] |
Jah, you are the garden,
you are the ghetto
Jah, I am the Medicine Man
you are the medicine
Jah, you are the crown, the lion, and the flame
you are that of nine hundred ninety-nine thousand names
Jah, because of you the hood smells of pineapple and ginger, pineapple and ginger -
roses too
papaya too
in spite of the blood still warm on the concrete - another mother's son laid out on the streets
Oh, but roses too
but roses too
Jah, you are the garden
you are the ghetto
Oh Jah, you are the crown, the lion, and the flame
Heal the hood
Heal the hood
Heal the hood
---
Jah, you are the refuge and I the refugee
Jah, you are the lightning, thunder, and the wind that calls my name ( I hear you calling...)
Jah says 'Stand Up and Be At Peace For You Are The New Trinity'
- Brooklyn, Bronx, and Queens |
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| My Poor Diva |
[Jun. 29th, 2007|12:22 am] |
They say that you are beautiful, creative, and colourful for the images that have seduced us for generations.
Morocco and Egypt pillaged and used for their skins.
My dear, this is trash. This is trash.
You are an Orientalist by circumstance, an Opportunist by trade.
My poor diva, take off that fucking bindi and watch where you dance - the desert you believe to be tame shall consume you whole. |
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| Molecular Biology: America |
[May. 28th, 2007|12:33 pm] |
*Over morning toast and tea (blueberry and jasmine, respectively)
"Who are you now that you've been cut from the mother crown for so long?"
"How will you strut now that the scars are so evident to just about everyone?"
"What is it that makes one seek such power? What is it that makes one so conjoined to it?"
I say to you:
"Be careful, lovely. The night will fall soon and before dawn can be reached you will have to dig, with bare hands if necessary,
deep past the centuries and past the slaughters and the civil disobedience and find the face that was always there all along".
*Over lunch somewhere in New York City (seasonally indicative that it is late May)
This is my power source - this, my one finger salute
This is my power source - this, my one finger salute
I can't understand your tongue. It speaks of desire. The desire to drive to the shore and abandon all sense of domesticity into the hunger of the receding tide. Yes, we all have the will to work this through but I have yet to see the signs that point to the massive undertaking brewing under the land - from person to person to person.
Is salvation Noam Chompsky?
Is salvation in the Easter service?
Is salvation in the Mojito had during the 4th of July?
Is salvation in the patent leather of these boots?
"How long have you forgotten that your make up is foundation based - fundamentally premised on the idea of strands interwoven?"
*After dinner. 9:50 P.M. Honeydew votives fragrant in the warm air.
"I've tried to hold back the tears for so long, and i'm sure the wrinkles around the eyes surely attest"
"Well, why did you ever think that repression would work?"
"There wasn't much thought. Just fear. It would just appear one day and choke retrospect and foresight to death. I think that is what truly brutalizes"
"Lovely, we have been waiting for so long for you to work through your psychic shit. There are those of us who have grown impatient, who have lost faith and now take only glee as they watch you fall"
"Yes, i am not blind to this"
"And lovely, we have known about your faults for decades. Do not turn to deception ever again. It only fuels our distrust and consequently our hatred. There has to be a direction for us to take where the distance from the horizon is not so daunting, and therefore our dreams not so farfetched".
Who is fit to be the commander-in-chief? And when the news of war arrives at our door how will our hands tremble?
By the time all the denizens, merchants, and bureaucrats were seated in the grand central colosseum the sound of the ram's horn bellowed across the vast city, so loudly every individual felt it cellularly, and each understood the great noise in their own way.
*CODA*
Replication
Transcription
Translation
The residue of us all are printed on her body - irreversible and inevitably, and has nothing to do with fate. |
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| Q.N.S (Heal the 'hood) |
[May. 27th, 2007|01:37 am] |
Who are the kings and queens of Queens?
It aint no G-Unit or Fifty-Cent, but the collective regality of every immigrant.
This i know to be true cuz i lived it.
Brought up with a conscience and being conscious of how humility is the ego's salvation.
Brought up with a conscience and being conscious of how food is not necessarily promised -
Oh Jah! How beautiful it is for the tongue to taste sugar and hearty meat for once.
Who are the kings and queens of Queens?
It aint no G-Unit or Fifty-Cent, but the collective struggles of every immigrant.
Sure, we may have no class but we been working it since birth - working class sistahs and soldiers with so many mouths to feed.
"Feed me, feed me, feed me" this baby's crying says
"Feed me, feed me, feed me" this baby's crying says
Oh Jah! Turn your countenance towards us so that your splendour may placate our yearning for a glimpse of glory.
Who are the kings and queens of Queens?
It aint no G-Unit or Fifty-Cent, but the collective music of every immigrant.
This i know to be true cuz i lived it.
Me and mama keeping track of the bottles and cans, transforming them into nickels and dimes at the local A&P recycling plant.
The smell of evaporated spit and the sound of flies hungrily singing around us became so familiar, as familiar as my own face
which lit up when the cashier gave us our $1.15.
Chinese gypsies, i feel you, i feel you...
Chinese gypsies, i feel you, i feel you...
Oh Jah! Heal the 'hood. Heal the 'hood. Heal the 'hood.
I am.
I am.
I am.
So shanti, please be. |
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| Jesus-of-the-Woods |
[May. 23rd, 2007|12:39 am] |
Who is 'Jesus-of-the-Woods'?
He is the light that cherishes the shadow realm, and all its creatures.
The crown of roses and thorns; cross-leggged and meditative with full antlers
under a moonlit sky.
The trees moaned low songs to herald his birth.
The stars flamed bright to lead pilgrims and magis.
The angels descended and danced with the faeries
in rings, in eights and infinities.
The streams curved and bent to be closer to him.
He is the King of passion and magick. |
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| Green Ginger and Toast |
[May. 20th, 2007|01:11 pm] |
I'm off to that place where no one can find me - the pocket folded in, formed by the cupping of hands.
I'm off to that sea where the merfolk dive for food, where they freely give milk - they have so many ancient tales to tell.
I'm off to that cave where the glow worms shimmer their messages - their memories of light.
Because i have found a joy that persists despite what destruction may come; all cancers and pollution fall on their knees before it.
And i don't want to ever be misunderstood again.
And i don't want to ever be misunderstood again.
There are too many truths to bear - passion-christ style, passion-christ style.
I'm off to that place where no martyr of any path can find me - i do not want to hear of anymore tragedy, of anymore pathos.
I'm off to that pangea where romance is not simply pubescent fantasy but an internal atmosphere that surmounts all sense of soul-break.
I'm off to that generations' old kitchen where herbs sit by the windowsill, where grandmother after grandmother prayed their prayers into their recipes
Because i have found a resolve that knows no master - it takes me by the hand, guides the little boy to the fertile ground where sorrow can be fully understood.
And i don't want to ever be misrepresented again.
And i don't want to ever be misrepresented again.
There are too many truths to bear - passion-christ style, passion-christ style.
This time the sacrifice will be up to me...
This time the sacrifice will be up to me...
This time the sacrifice will be up to me...
...and the love too
...and the love too |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 6th, 2007|03:06 am] |
Speed up this train wreck
'cause we all know the ending
'cause we all have the taste of napalm in our mouths
These walls are only so thin
they hold in only so much...
These walls are so thin
they hold in only so much...
They hold in only oh so much...
Is this the twenty-first century? Is this the twenty-first century? (I trust in this)
These walls are only so thin
they hold in only so much...
These walls are so thin
they hold in only so much...
We all have the taste of napalm in our mouths (It's been a battle royale)
We all have the taste of napalm in our mouths (It's been a battle royale)
Speed up this train wreck
'cause we all have the taste of napalm in our mouths |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 28th, 2007|02:06 pm] |
[I] think that i could begin to piece together these pieces - these fragments that got blown all out, and all over the land - if i could just put my fingers to the organ's keys.
You know, that natural vibrato (that au naturale shit) could really level obstructions. It really could! You need to believe in the ability of the player - even if it's just, you know, that old wrinkled woman from the methodist church on the edge of town. What shouldn't be underestimated is the way the hymns are sung, not just from the mouth but from the pit - the pit of every cell (deep behind its walls). Those words are powerful and they carry with it the collective imaginings of every soul present. Mmm. It's a beautiful thing. So, anyways, i'm trying to put together the ingredients in what could be the most personally heavenly joint. Maybe it'll be like the sound of ghosts still trapped in the underground railroad - the fugitive ones who just didn't make it, you know. I'm trying to always remember that there is an unknowable number of first-hand tales that are eternally locked away in the great mystery. This is my way of trying to arch my back and offer myself as a bridge so that some of them may share glimpses with us - and, insha'Allah, may we bear witness.
peace and passion,
XO
Guan Wong
*Keep your heart on Beltane |
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| 4/19-4/20 |
[Apr. 21st, 2007|02:38 am] |
1) Watched first episodes of 'Mighty Max'
2) Watched 'Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle'
3) Solo jam session; improv bridge on 'Mother Tongue'
4) Smoked in the perfectly blistering sun
5) Watched 'Earth Intruders' - Bjork video
6) Played intense rounds of 'Shark Attack!'
7) Listened to 'American Doll Posse' in its entirety
8) Watched "Scarlet's DVD"
9) Watched Borat's 'Running of the Jew' segment |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 20th, 2007|11:07 am] |
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It's 4/20 homies - er, White Castle? |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 14th, 2007|12:32 am] |
I can draw a map from my god to yours
and then begin to see that our circle round
holds our souls tightly and united as one
but then oh
the closeness begins to become a commitment
unwanted - so let us start a war
to divorce the American Gods from us all
(cast our bodies onto the pyre)
so many widows made from Hurricane America and in the eye - in there is there heaven or hell?
Been negotating
for ownership of my pagan soul
from the deep undergrowth of the united wild gardens
but first i must go through
the national guards of the American Gods
tell me sentinel: "What do you stand for?"
and
"How does one hunt for paradise when so much of the crescent was fertilized by blood?"
Take a breath and forgive my trespasses -
I just need to know to whom i turn now for everything that was kept from us
You have been tiring yourself with all the centuries spent
killing off one prophet after another and in the final hour
do you babylon truly think there is room in Yggdrasil for you? |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 7th, 2007|12:52 pm] |
Fracture your skull - lull you to sleep
Fracture your skull - lull you to sleep
The incense smoke knows where to go: up and out to the Dao Di Jie
but oh it does not pacify the rose-blood between the legs
but oh it does not pacify the rose-milk between the legs
Where is 'A'? Does he still occupy his rightful place on the block?
I will find you
I will find you
The Tao streamlines through the napalm from me to you
and recitation of Apostles' creeeds are wonderful
but oh it does not pacify the rose-blood between the legs
but oh it does not pacify the rose-milk between the legs |
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| T2KE @ PS.13 '86 - '07 |
[Jan. 10th, 2007|03:02 am] |
There i was before ah-moon passed to the afterworld
There i was before my uncle got married (finally)
There i was before joints, blunts, and weed
There i was before Sarah Lawrence College and all else therein
There i was before the estrangement
There i was before the decentralization of the Guans/Chans
There i was before 9/11
There i was before "four years of B.S"
There i was before i met fariya
There i was before i met Nelson Wong
There i was before Ridgewood and IS.93
There i was before i met rosmary
There i was before my two years with lisa
There i was before i wrote a single song or lyric
There i was before my conversion to and fallout with christianity
There i was before my mother began working for the USPS
There i was before dreamcast
There i was before playstation
There i was before SNES
There i was before all the marilyn manson, tori amos, alanis morissette, nas and mos def
There i was before all the rock, pop, and hip hop
There i was before Magic: The Gathering
There i was before Hippo found me
---
The past twenty-one years have been absolutely incredible.
I pray only for the faith and courage and wisdom to meet the next twenty-one years head on.
Thank you all for the well wishes.
I received the best thing i could've ever wanted - my life back.
Who knew it would come out of adrenaline, big pimping, and vandalism?
regardless,
having twenty-one years of tragedy, comedy, drama, and God re-played in 30 minutes
in the winter chill was... knee-buckling, speechlessness, and humbling.
Rasta-fucking-fari
XO |
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| Stasis |
[Jan. 6th, 2007|09:15 pm] |
Did you just suggest that in this crater of sewage and ash i bloom?
of course i cannot hear you - i am hibernating
of course i cannot hear you - i am hibernating
it does not matter how strained your muscles are in reaching for me,
my hand will not grasp at anything, will not return your favour
many clusters of stars will perish in their finity before i wake
many clusters of stars will be birthed to their youth before i wake
such is the state i am in
Chronos knows the succession of days and nights that will pass before this slumber breaks
such is the state i am in
i curl my spine and cradle my knees in this wet embryo - can only sense the gradations of light
all books, music, and fashion are superfluous and buried in their graves - they don't tickle me
of course i cannot hear you - i am hibernating
of course i cannot hear you - i am hibernating
ah...
ah...
i can, however, sense that you are staking the joss into the urn...
oh...
oh...
it strikes me as beautiful the way the smoke claws and climbs -
your prayers so heavy with urgency and hope, transfers from your heart to your head
to your hands to your whispers to your incense to your altars to your icons,
the manifestations of the ineffable that you adore personally anthropomorphized.
oh...
will you finally open your ears so that you may hear these words?
"i can see you. i can hear you. i can feel you. i can hold you. i am with you"
oh...
oh...
"i am with you"
please now, baby child. just open your ears and hear this:
"i am with you" |
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| Who Remembers Vincent Chin? |
[Dec. 9th, 2006|07:47 pm] |
the rough draft of my Asian American conference paper is finally, sorta done. Clocking in at approx. 32 pages.
i'm gonna set it aside for a day or two before i return to edit the hell out of it.
but for now i'm going to watch south park and eat sesame chicken before i set out on my pilgrimage conference.
ganesha sharanam. |
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| Tigerlily: I Crave Our Future Scent |
[Nov. 29th, 2006|11:15 pm] |
"It's the difference between being kicked in the teeth and reading about what it's like to be kicked in the teeth"
---
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thedeathparade's journal
