i am crying (protesting against the Heirok Incident of 22nd march)

I am crying,
lying on this ground of blood.
the roads were stinked with blood
of the Paorabi bomb blast Incident
Now again, they apologize
for another three lives
what should i be saying or crying
i am left with nothing more to lose
they claimed it is a fight
against the government
Oh! those nights were the government
those lives were the politicians
whom your men depends
to hide from the soldiers

i am crying with blood
i am dying
without a heart beat left in my body
Please give up the guns
pack your bags
and jump underneath the soil
i would love to see a cactus
growing out of you
but don't spoil Loktak
it has already lost
the story of Khamba-Thoibi
we have brought nothing home
what you brought is tear
and you, a hypocrite
in the name of revolution
in the name of the son of this land...
Go kill yourself
let me not hear a gunshot anymore
just die suffocate yourself
with the phanek of the girls...
i am crying, i am bleeding
I have become Manipur

sons of the bitch(condemning the killings of non-manipuri)

like nomads
they came to this land of cheap bullets
when the sons were lazying like cats

when home meant shelters and food.
when children cried with empty stomach
and no more tears to roll down on the cheeks
they left the railway tracks to the beggars

they found a song to sing
and the sons of this land
listen to the nomads
hammering the mountains
for a couple of meals

the soil of the land has tasted their sweats
they had laugh at the jokes of the people
they had learn to breathe with the fish

the sons of the bitch came that day
the sons of the witches woke up from the wombs
they left the field painted in red
they left the ladies in white

Here is one left breathing
half killed with his scissors
half death with the half mended shoes of yours.
are you sparing him to narrate your heroic act?

You! sons of the bitch,
who do not know how to stitch,
who is going to be your patron
when will you ever learn to see
what do human value and home mean?

Our love song

One winter night in this fucking capital city of India
Somewhere in south, somewhere in our cloud
We sat face to face talking like everybody else
But we talked tear, we talked silence of cold winter nights
We caught each other with same blood under our veins
How you wanted to tell a story which never were told
How I wanted to write a poetry which never were written
We felt we will sail across the sea against the storm
Sung by this capital and the traitors among our colors

We indeed sail everyday with every cup of tea we share
With every puff of smoke we smoke
Despite the silence we see at each others’ eyes
A salute to the death man
A song to his grave and for his men
We will have someday
When the sound of enemies’ drum is fading
Let’s wait for the tear from their laughing mouth and the eyes
They will die with tears of joy in people’s eye
But we know what a drop of tear means when we die

The past often brings us a moment without so many faces
But a face which you regret for not wiping the tear
Yes the story of your friend who never tucked in his shirt
And how the laughter made your anger burst out
I could see in the eyes I saw
I could hear at the words you uttered

My brother my song
We are the numbers in the dark
With which you can unlock any capitalistic bank
With which any untold story can be told
We are indeed dark
We are indeed the another side of their lives
A flag is waving for you and me
To welcome against them
Against the bullets of their gun
Yes! We will have great fucking fun

singing poet

i never mean to write a song
i never mean to feel so upset about the things
i never asked them to pay me
but i still dont give up to fight
my fight is weird my battle is a joke
but still my breathe is not to survive
my cry is not to release my pain
my songs are made not to be listened
If you listen you wont blink a eye
you wont breath a moment
'cos i have loved you enough
to be your friend to be your voice
all dreams at a time coming
to be seen by the eyes
to be heard by the ears....
what would you feel if the bamboo blooms
in your own eyes
will you cry for the menace people talked about
or would you enjoy the moment
trying to smell it trying to pluck it
it is happening to me
it is occurring in my only time of 27 years
So i would smell it i would bleed for it
i would die for it i would cry for it
i would laugh for it i would kill for it
to sing the songs for you
for you for you for you
i spend the nights sleeplessly
i cry with the pillows not to be seen by you
i fight with my stomach not to be ordered by them
it was happening to me it was real
now i have seen the rainbow
with its color and dispersion
no one can stop me from singing and being a poet