Rise Prophets: A Poem

A week ago, last Friday, at the Nuyorican Poets' Cafe, I performed the following spoken word poem entitled "Rise, Prophet!"

*************************

Rise, Prophet!

That is the voice of one crying out in the wilderness
I recognize the sound
I know it because it's coming out of my own mouth
and like that, at last
my eyes snap open, just to half-mast
arms still attached to my sides
I gaze through the grey haze
and see you
your brow rippling
eyelids flickering
fighting 'gainst the clouds of delusion
sent forth by this world's illusions
trying to counter confusion with the truth that's within you
I know what you're going through
I'm trapped in the pod next to you
Trying to wake myself up too
and grab hold of your hand
I see what's inside of you
I remember who we once were
Eons ago.


We were shamans, sorcerers, witches
hunters, gatherers
soothsayers, seers
tarot, bone and palm readers
Christs-in-waiting
Buddhas-to-be
this Bruce Wayne shit is waning on me
I remember my secret identity

For too long I've remained
chained to unchanging obsessions
seduced by my country's inane lessons
of regression through acts of agression
that masquerade as progression
My own mind's been arrested
by domestication dating back to
Sunday School confirmation confession
but as I awaken I see the start
of a NEW apostolic succession
that begins and ends with you and me.

So take my hand, and we'll walk on waves
and make despair make way for hope
Just call me Saint Blasphemy
'Cause I'm declaring ALL of us Popes!

That title
The title "prophet"
is the birthright
of every man and woman under the sun
There are no feats to overcome
no deeds need be done
you only need a voice with which to speak
and a wish to be one

Thomas Paine once explained
that in the Bible
there is no word--in any
of the Scriptures--
for what we would call
a "poet"
But that back then
"prophet" and"poet"
were considered one in the same
and that to "speak in prophecy"
was to speak in poetry
And I almost dismissed this as nonsense
till I considered this first
That the books of Psalms, Proverbs
Song of Solomon and Job
were written in Hebrew verse


Jeremiah, Isaiah, Hosea
It's perfect symmetry
These cats from the B.C.
were all about poetry
building on rhythms and slinging out similes
saying similar things to what poets now are saying
Because back then, they too were the few
speaking out against injustice
and back then, they too were the few
calling people to see that God is in all of us
The names, the faces,
the times, the places
may be different
the message has remained the same
which is what's so insane
that after thousands of years
we are still in desperate need of change
There's still something terribly wrong
with the world we live in
We've all made our list of grievances
but hell, we once had Secretary of State say,
"Let them march all they want, as long as they
keep paying taxes."


No.
No more.
Let it end tonight.
In this moment, we are all free.
These are not words of defiance
but of certainty
Prophets are rising
Not Dow Jones
But Taoism
And as we rise
we shall not look to the skies
for some savior to descend
Redemption begins
when we look first to the earth
and from there look within
Unlike what little orphan Annie said,
the sun will NOT come out tomorrow
The revolution is NOT an event in the future
The kingdom of heaven is NOT at hand
The kingdom of heaven is IN our hands.
It IS our hands and feet and throats and hearts
We ARE the kingdom

The time is now
You sons and daughters of Ogun
You Malcolms and Martins and Rosas Reborn
See, this is my prophecy
You all came to me in my dreams
and told me that your birth
WAS the Second Coming
The light that gives light to the world
The cornerstone that the builders rejected
Lay your stone next to mine
and together we will build
a foundation so strong in love
the gates of fear cannot stand against it
The world cries out for this
Every inch of the earth
demands we answer the call
that our ancestors did.
Without us, it's Mecca
without Muhammad
It's Canaan's Land
without Abraham
Egypt
without Isis
Nazareth
without Jesus
Just a Neo-less Matrix

Or maybe it's madness
to presume to say such things.
Who am I to say such things?
I could be out of my mind
But then I look out there
and think, "I'm no more mad
than the rest."
Either way,
come what may
until they put me away
in the state pen or crazy bin
even then
unto the day I die
Let this forever be the cry
of my soul

Rise, Prophets.
It's time to write Bibles of our own.