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Sufi Style<BR><BR>
<a href='delicious.php?PHPSESSID=a3eb9ab3aa47ef2d8945639a87c4425b'>delicious</a><BR>
<a href='nutritious.php?PHPSESSID=a3eb9ab3aa47ef2d8945639a87c4425b'>nutritious</a><BR>
<a href='archives.php?PHPSESSID=a3eb9ab3aa47ef2d8945639a87c4425b'>archives</a><BR>bars clenched tight around buildings
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reminiscent of pictures of war--
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pictures of mother and children
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and streams of napalm
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leaving me to wonder
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if they're here to keep the bad guys out
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or to keep me from leaving
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my own personal sing-sing
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except i can leave when i want to.
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do i want to...?
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expose myself to the mayhem
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of the outside world
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to the old drunk roaming fruitvale
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begging for a quarter
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for his next glass of firewater
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to numb the pain of hunger in his belly.
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my thoughts are with him
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but not my wallet.
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thoughts of little consequence
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when my skin screams money
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and he's still hungry.
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black caps and cadillacs are my
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white robes and pointy hats
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pick up trucks with shotgun racks
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"welcome to MY neighborhood"
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read their eyes in form of stares
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as i round each corner
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clutching tightly to my bag
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head down in submission;
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but i still dream like MLK that one day
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little black boys and little white boys
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will hold hands together
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and sing in unison
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sing above the screeching tires
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barking dogs and gun shots,
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but are we loud enough?</BODY>
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