There in Rangoon I understood that the gods
were enemies of the poor human being,
just as God is.
Gods of alabaster, lying down
like white whales,
gods gilded like wheat,
serpent gods coiled round
the crime of being born,
naked and elegant buddhas
smiling at the cocktail parties
of empty eternity
like Christ on his horrible cross,
all of them ready for anything –
to impose on us their heaven
by torture or pistol,
to buy our piety or fry our blood,
fierce gods made by men
to cover up their cowardice,
and that’s how it all was there,
the whole world reeking of heaven,
of heavenly supermarkets.
Suggested read : Pablo Neruda
Suggested rhythm : “Khawaja tum hi ho”, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Thanks to Nina for this find !! its one of the rarest.