Original rap/poetry by Larry Montague. Copyright © 2012 Larry Montague. Permission required for reproduction.

"the four trips"

i was veiled for twenty-some-odd years
shielded from the ills in the seat of my high chair
listen, i never questioned if my comfort was perpetual
until my first passing sight shattered all i ever knew
as i traveled through town i saw a man on a bench
alone—void of friends, full of regrets
face wrinkled, hunched over, cold hurt
people said ‘look at him, he’s old as dirt’
as i watched his hands quiver and felt my warm flesh get flush
i thought: what’s the difference between us?
a voice said that man is you
you’ve always been one in the same
same thread as the sun and the rain, i thought

now the truth seems withered and worn
it offered you itself when you were born
the skies aligned in a curious way
they came from the hills and you shunned what you heard them say
you never put your faith in the words of people
you trust in the river and trees to teach you
the lotus and seekers of its path beseech you (me too)

i chewed on this image for a little while
but had sweet indulgence shoved down my throat
truthfully, i didn’t much resist it
and when i floated off a bit, bliss shut the lid
until, on my very next sojourn, i saw a bald little girl
and felt a burn—the grief that i had to learn
a face too sweet, an anguish unearned
i watched as the heads of the people turned like ‘poor her’
in her eyes was nothing i could picture in mine
doors to a candid body designed to work fine
i felt trapped, but knew i couldn’t even really feel that
confined to this tenuous illusion of time, i thought

stranded between cancer and the answer
i began to get perturbed by the songs and the dancers
an imprudent sketch seemed to mock scenes i couldn’t forget
and everytime i closed my eyes, back there i went
on my third tour outside the castle walls
i came across a poor mother who had it all taken from her
she said her son was an Indian farmer, indebted for his GMOs
he watched his field recede farther
so he swallowed pesticide and died owing less than i squander without bother
how much food do i throw away?
if i only knew a soul’d be saved, i thought

the dim light turned my palace to a dungeon
reflecting off the gold like it’d rather not touch it
i try to push the panic away but it’s not budgin
i’m not fit to suffer these woes is my presumption
been given all i got, it’s left me with no gumption
piled goods atop a bad foundation and it sunk in
and i decided i would bury it
so on my fourth trip out i hopped off the chariot
pressed on the ground where the dolor was found
and through the glow i could barely see a man with an aura of solidarity
poised like a tree, ready for the brunt of the wind
threadbare but digging deep for something to give
i said nothing to him
just smiled like i knew him
his contemplative gaze gave me function to live
through the still eyes of suffering
i realized the true nature of every thing