Ask myself who and what it is that I embody
Who and what it is that creates the energy that holds the bonds together found within every molecule of my living being, my inner hero and even deeper fiend, blood and neurons, the whole damn thing.
I ask myself, who and what it is that I stand for in my griptape Nike SBs, the psyche of a human in Me, the roots that branch out from my hands and the heels of my feet.
I am what these dilated eyes have been trained to see, the wrecking ball swung overseas and the bombs that they bring, the people who have screamed, the heavens shooting sleet, sanctions on their shores trying to chain down tyrants to their knees, the peace from Mandela freed, ceasefire from the sore hands of revolutionary needs, the Ecuadorian trigger smoke that took my cousin Johnny from me, North Korea increasing nuke testing routines, the puke resting in steam from losing loved ones to greed, and I embody the stream of the reruns of live coverage ammunition rape on TV, CNN and BBC, poor kids whose only Christmas present was to have their own Christmas tree, the feud between Messiahs and the definition of unbiased beliefs culminating into extreme nationalism and suicidal release, the gas masks of Banksy and the banking done on the streets, the temptations of pixies, fresh backyard green marijuana leaf to the blow in the baggies hidden in their sneaks, sniffling in the echoes due to the needles they’re addicted to that they know they don’t need, heroin mothers passing out next to their skeletal children just because they forget to feed, an opposite world, heroine mothers next to their angels just because they never forget to lead, arms out when alarms sound, leaving nothing but dust in the wind..
Yet the rust of our sins mixed with the rust on our skin looks no different if switched, than the color of the rust on the train tracks leading to the gas chambers of Auschwitz, the dried blood on crucifixion stones and sticks , the frail bones of Africa’s weak and sick makes me feel all weak and sick, the chain reaction of mixing plants and chemicals with submachine gun chambers and clips, government leaders standing around with their button down’s sleeves rolled up and their sweaty hands on their hips, the 70s epidemic of blow entering world circulation stemming from Escobar’s infamous ‘stache and bricks, the infamous trick of swallowing cocaine packed condoms and hoping that they don’t rupture midflight during the international trip, the poor families and kids that were forced to cram their stomachs and deliver those unfortunate gifts, Gorbachev’s act of releasing Soviet fists to create new ripples in history’s frigid cold rifts, our timeline stiff from such storms of ice, blizzards in disguise, that even with such grotesque images being placed in front of our eyes, we never forget to embody every positive shift..
To embody the ideal rest, those who feed the roots and survived the brutalities of any wars between the East and the West, vibrations of shellshock as I breathe easy and we finally take off these heavy flak vests, the best given when we expected only less, the prayer behind the decision to confess, those who witnessed and also took to heart Iranian Neda’s single shot to the chest, the hopeful behind the depressing top stories, the cost of blood spilled to publish any article hot off the press, I take this all and at every sunset I take the chance to press reset and I remember..
I remember to be thankful for everyone and everything whom I embody, and trust me.. that feeling of infinite immortality with that embodiment feels as real as real gets.
And I’m extremely thankful for that.
This was written for the purpose it clearly states. Recognition and realization.