the brainstorming leaves

i dont do drugs, i smoke leaves of grasses
not walt whitman's grass

they said i look and behave like poet
i know what's their point

all the comrades i saw, talk hell lots of shit
but dont know how to button their shirts

i went to the lady when i had enough of this world
the lady in white, leaning on the wall

pushing out her well curved breast
put her hand inside it like she is gonna give me the best

there she took out the brown small envelope
like a sweet sixteen giving me her love

i got my sweet grass now in my hand,
on my nerves, inside my veins

words start fighting for better rhyme
music notes floatimg in the air like widows' hymn.

my fantasy to fall in love with a widow
i can see vividly through my broken window.

she completes my incomplete poetry
she points her finger to a fallen leaf, said it's the poetry.

she lies down on my wooden couch
that i got, all the way from mandalay, free of cost.

her perfect body waters the dry leaves
the lazy soul wakes up like spring trees

and i said: "sweety!
will you be my honey?

will you show me what is love and not love?
what is the height of heaven, where is your white dove?

the silence comes knocking on my doors
the sweet grass gets washed away by the cry of jim, the doors

i throw away my smelly blanket
i peep through my window with my swollen eyes like a bat

the world is flying and shattering into pieces, the driver was overdosed
the poors, like butterflies, are colorfull and me, still a yellow rose

i throw away my smelly blanket
i shave my head and have a look at my cat

she hides her tail like a coward dog
i shout at her: dont you recognise me, bitch, oh! god

my neighbours are watching me cleaning my smelly shoe
wondering what a change in this world of akhu

i lock my house of leaves of grass
not walt whitman's poems: "leaves of grass"

i walk down the narrowest road
so that i dont fall down on the road

the cobbler say's i'm looking for my strings
somebody shouts, a cigarette bud is what i'm searching
i know what i'm really looking for ........

inside me i'm whistling:
"somewhere they called it marijuana
somewhere they called it ganja
somewhere they called it hemp
it's the best looking plant,
it's the sweetest grass"

for myself, romstone and naobi

me and the blues!

hmmmmmm! a pain

an angel in silence
praying for the rain
for the thirsty throat
longing for the drops
dreaming of thunder
dying of hunger
seeing the sailing boat
watching the rain pouring
looking at the empty pocket
unzipping my heart
to let it beat freely
to show i exist
to show i got blood
crying out loud my heart
with the tears
no more tears left
no more feelings
everything is new
nothing is same
but still there is the shame
shame on me
for being a rusty knife
for being an angel
for being a son
for being akhu
for my nose
for my small eyes
for my torn jeans
for all the old shirts
shame on you too
for everything you did
in the darkness
of daylight
no love between stranger
just curiousity
just shitty look
who you are
who i'am
nobody cares
toghether we complete
this undemocratic
that claims to be
democratic globally
At back home
they drummed my dad's skull
they smoked my marrow
prick my heart
they rape my girls
they left my sister in prison
they burn my brother
they claim we are safe
how an angel suffers
like a poor actor
a useless soul
thinks of a revolution
to revolt against them
but how and when
without bread and butter
no guns and bullets
no writings no singing
no revolution
no harvesting festival
the lonely time
just passes
seeing me fading
like far away kite
my desires and hopes
lingering around
in the air in the air
their expectation
remains inside them
an angel fading
an angel's dream
to own a wing
to learn to fly
remains a story
I'm sorry,
there is no glory
In my stories
the three storey
building belongs to melody
the melody of of my story

black frock and silver ring

I cant stop searching for the face in crowd
You disappear saying nothing to me
You are lost in the silence of darkness
like a ballon in the dark sky
like a fire fly among the stars

I can't forget the pain you left inside me
your stories of ghost, haunting inside me
Your black frock lying unwashed inside cupboard
i wish i could forget you
I wish i was you.

I sing for you and i
come to me,
Say to me
You are back to me

Or you are too selfish
you said words failed you everytime you think about me
Now i know it was me who failed.

your stories of your step mom
your stories of sparrows and Jamiacan music
How you listened "chocolate brown"

I remember
I remember you taking off your shirts off
the scar in your waist
the thread you wear in your waist

the silver ring is there
I don't wear
It smells like rusty iron bars of Indian old train
I hate the smell now

It reminds me those beggars
in crazy summer train
singing different tune
with the same lyrics:
Praising Allah
No matter where they belong
No matter where they piss

I'm a lonesome blues
I'm a cry from wild bush
I'm fucked up by the morning winter dews
Carry on your selfishness
keep your feet higher
dirts may spoil your cracked toes