The City of Angels’ Book of the Dead

O Son and Daughter of Noble Birth

Now the time has come for you to seek a path

As your breath stops, visions will appear

And while on this journey from life into death

If you find yourself calling out,

“Oh Lord of Great Compassion

Am I beautiful enough?

Am I wearing the right clothes?

Do I have the right connections to get me into where I’m going?”

To these concerns I say do not worry

Release your fears

For soon you will find experience

To be the greatest teacher and healer

*

And while there will be those of you

Who find yourselves floating holy in Beverly Center Buddha-realm beauty

Know that there will be others

Left shuddering cold turkey in a metaphysical MacArthur Park

Strung out on doubt as you try to reenter your own body

Or the body of another

Again and again

*

Remember, O Son and Daughter of Noble Birth

You have brought this on

If you’ve done wrong

You can’t go trading up karma like baseball cards

Thinkin’ you’re gonna end up with

That prized Tommy Lasorda 1988 Dodgers World Series winner

So if you lied, cheated, looted,

Committed a drive-by shooting,

Stole your best friend’s girlfriend, boyfriend,

Left your cell phone on during a yoga class or movie

Now is the time your conscience is collecting

All those sins and numbering them

On the bones of a South-Central body count

*

O Son and Daughter of Noble Birth

Know that as you move through the afterlife’s streets

You will run into many dreams and dead ends

At the blink of a camera eye

You can sell a script for a million

Or lose your soul like Faulkner in Hollywood

With a name change and jeweled turban

You can reinvent yourself like Korla Pandit

Or have your own life taken

By any Manson, Menendez or Night Stalker

*

Demons and protective spirits will take many forms

There will be moon-eyed Sirens of Overnight Success

Singing fleeting love songs with Angelyne in three-part harmony

There will be mandala-faced day laborers

With bent backs and calloused hands

Standing at freeway offramps shouting:

“ Espiritu de azucar ,”

Sugar spirit

“ Dame tus besos de sangre dulce ,”

Give me your sweet blood kisses

There will be a homeless woman

On the No. 2 Sunset bus

Who will look at you with loving last rite eyes as she says,

“Finally, I see the soft lights of God shining on your face

I will tell Mr. De Mille that you are ready

For your close-up”

*

And if somewhere along your path

You find yourself stuck

Unable to move in traffic

Where both you and your car become one

Singing the solipsistic drone of

This isolated freeway lifestyle

Know that the emptiness and exhaust fumes that consume you

Create your enlightenment

A very well-dressed enlightenment

An enlightenment that will mean you

Never get stopped in Hancock Park

Even if you should decide to drive through its streets

In a rust-eaten, oil-burning Chevy Vega

*

O Son and Daughter of Noble Birth

In this cross-town journey

As you find yourself approaching

The eternally glittering womb of the 101

Remember to keep an open mind as you meditate

On which connections you need to make

To ensure your safe passage to that area of the city

Where you would most like to be reborn:

*

If it’s the Valley

Know that Van Nuys has the tempting allure of a Krispy Kreme

And the porn industry

But, otherwise, it’s bland, flat,

Has way too many mini-malls,

And looks like the worst parts of New Jersey

*

If it’s the Westside

Know that Venice has beats, hippies, love-in drunken frenzy and

Mother Ocean’s expansive embrace

But the rents are still more expansive

And Santa Monica’s Third Street Promenade

Is really Dante’s Inferno

*

If it’s Beverly Hills

Know there’s plenty of room at the Hotel California

But you could still end up living in a mansion with a Guatemalan housekeeper named Lucia

Whom you will trust to raise your children but will still only pay minimum wage

*

If it’s Silver Lake

Know there’s great Cuban coffee,

Artists, and rock bands

But the prices are skyrocketing

On account of the invading Westsiders

Proclaiming themselves reborn-again Eastsiders

*

Finally, if you should decide

To be reborn anywhere near the Rampart District

Know that despite all the negative press and attention

A renegade police officer

Could still decide to kill you

Without the slightest provocation

And that action alone

Could have you being reborn out in the Valley

Whether you liked it or not

*

And if after all this

You still have your doubts about where to reside

In this afterlife L.A.

Know that as Lord Stravinsky said,

“The only way to escape L.A. is to be in L.A.”

Please remember

O Son and Daughter of Noble Birth

What you are ultimately looking for

Is that place and position in this city

Where you can feel omnipotent

So, before your last breath checks out

Be sure to check out your heart’s true calling

*

You can be a non-rappin’ Caucasian in Leimert Park

A non-burrito eatin’ African American in East L.A.

A non-housecleanin’ Chicano livin’ in the Palisades

And even though you’re tired from your many journeys

You must still find the energy

To change yourself into an Echo Park Lake lotus flower

That can be offered to the Buddha of Complete Joy

For, this is the Buddha

Who will keep you moving toward the lights

The spotlights slashing your afterlife skies

These are the lights calling you to the greatest premiere of all

The eternal party

Where you are the star

Where you are walking down the red carpet

Where you are smiling and waving to the cameras

And we as your adoring fans

Can’t help but to hang on to your every word, your every action

Wondering what you will say

And where you will go next

*

Richard Ferguson is a Los Angeles spoken-word performer and teacher.