I was thinking of saints a few days ago. St.Anthony and St. Christopher are my favs. Because I always lose my things and I get so scared when I travel. There are a few things I took from my religious up bringing: my faith in God, the wicked awesome stories from the Bible (good fiction), and some saints to boot. Anyway, I thought of Asif, and how awesome it would be if he were named a saint. And thought of what kind of saint he would be and what he would be a saint for...And I came up wtih: St. Asif, Patron Saint of the Starving Artists.

And the prayer, would go a little something like this:

St. Asif,
Thank you for reminding us that every day is wicked great
Give us the strength to never give up on our dreams.
When there are assholes, smite them with your smile.
When we are saddened, grace us with an unbelievavbly tasteless joke.

St.Asif,
Speak those words of hope and happiness
So that we may never give up on our day
Teach me how to make every day precious
How to make fun of my constant follies
How to not give a fuck and smile.
Or just smile.

St. Asif,
Shine your divine beat boxing light on us
So that we may all beat box
To the sounding beat of our hearts
And follow it desires...

And live to lifes content.

Amen, ’Buddy’.

"Coffin Share" by Mou

I wish I could crawl into your coffin
Hold you tight and make you warm
Tell you I love you tell you I cared
Tell you you are the one beautiful light
Warm my soul make me happy
No longer can I accept this reality
No longer can I say this is God's plan
I can only feel pain where I once thought
this is life
How I wish I could hold you
Your life and existence seems almost a dream
Though wouldn't this be called a lonely nightmare
Why can you not come back to the way you were
Why did you have to leave us so
I only feel rods of metal bounding my soul
A lump in my throat when I realize,
you are not here.

Aug. 29, 2008

"To Tell You the Truth" by Mou

Life feels weird, to tell you the truth honestly
Where once I used to care about politics, I don't give a shit
Where once I used to remember others prematurely departed,
my thoughts remain focused without me realizing it, on You.

Where once I was moved my world conflicts I now remain untouched.
Where once I could send you a text message when I missed you I send it but it remains untouched.

Other people seem to feel your absence more acutely.
I, I do not know how I feel it. It seems to me you are not gone, you are a constant presence in my head.

All I must do is look up to see your face smiling from the picture frame, to see your ethereal image in a chair where you once sat, now waned

Where you once stood, making faces at me, standing there once again, to hold out your arms to me

Oh Asif, how is it that I feel your presence and absence. At once I feel empty, wondering if I ever knew you, at once I feel overwhelmed, having known you.

I prod myself to tears when my eyes have been too dry.
I turn my thoughts to you, surprised to be already thinking of you.

Oh Asif, to tell you the truth honestly
I don't know how it is I feel living this life, aimlessly
July 14, 2008

"Soul Brother" by Justin Meres

Asif, my soul brother
from another mother
of a different skin color
achieved the peace no man on earth can discover

a beautiful man, with a wonderful plan
to change life for all and rapping gritty like sand....
paper is what you wrote your life on
although you may have passed your spirit lives on

you passed into heaven as i looked into your eyes
and saw the joy from that of 10,000 lives
i started to cry, but then i realize
you wouldn't want me crying, i read it in your rhymes

we were supposed to meet a week from today
now i blow smoke in the skies, towards your way
i can't believe now i have to miss that day
but we cant predict it, no matter what we say

"Kindred Poet" by Shahriar Ashraf

Our sons die,
in the streets that never sleep…
On the suicide boulevards in Queens NYC,
where the working drones retreat—
speeding in their mechanic cocoons.
But the force of a truck
took the life of a wizard…

My tears erupt like blizzards,
Although the snow is microscopic
made invisible to my optics
by the coldness of my heart.
(Solidified in apathy against the Galaxy.)
The universe accursed with Entropy:
so randomly life is taken,
so unaware of how one is forsaken;
to the inevitable.

Misshapen our dreams
that expect the sun to set and rise…

How vain our schemes
to even expect to become wise.
(Surreptitiously our demise
Smiles as it lurks like Tetchier…)

What seems like invincibility at youth,
is insensibility.
An obtuse confusion;
its proof, lies under cement tablets:
the final resting place for the buried young…

Our made up kingdoms crumble,
as we mumble obscenities
beneath our breath.
Consolidated with regrets.
We attempt to elaborate our percepts,
conglomerating our intellects
to find out its all nothing at all.

“Mankind” is forever bluffing,
while consoling, “Be careful to what you’re holding!”
(especially with those stigmata palms).
Writing psalms and others free-styling Quran’s
but to what melody, can we sing?
When the entropy of fate brings
that final curtain…
Thus, I Envy
the body of deceased wizards.

My Bengali brother:
You have seen the end first!
Before I. Certainly your metaphysics
will remain forever intrinsic
with my existence,
for I feel the persistence
of your presence
in the luminescence of every epiphany!
In between the space of every memory.
(I hypothesize: that it is that precisely
that is the transcendence of poetry…)

And I know, it was cold
in that body, frozen with rigor mortis,
but what was hot,
was how the clouds cleared
over your burial plot.
Like the eye of a storm
The cumulus revealing a stratosphere of bright blue—
perhaps your soul was swept
into the different gradations of the sky’s hue
by the great winds that gusted that day…

Or perhaps you finally sleep,
deep enough to rest in peace

R.I.P. Asif Rahman

May 3, 2008