the fire we desire

It came as i was plucking mint in kitchen
with my hands bearing the hotness of red chilli
with an empty cup of tea singing loneliness
with the grinder grinding coffee
with my mind saying to me 
it is different from Neruda's
"I am not copying him
I am not imitating him
it is as true as the sun to my heart"

Poetry they came naked
it is you making them wear fanek
it is you coloring them red or black
Revolutionary, they salute to the evening sky
when their chief read out poetry
but they call it manifesto
Teachers, they teach poetry in classroom
at back home poetry like a broom
with it they sweep the room
or fan away their sweat after sex
Some sees poetry as meat loaf
that serves in silver plate with silver spoon
like it is for the best mankind on earth

Some see it as movements of past
that froze along with blood in streets
under the boots of human insanity
Some see it like rain
that is seasonal like mensturation
Poetry to someone is just a word
that fights the world in white pages
but in reality he she can never fight
dont we call it a lie?

Poetry they came naked
knocking at the doors of your heart
some fake it tapping their feets
following the rhythm of gunshots and bombings
but in a land like mine
it came as a spade to till the fields
nakedness of poetry died long ago
as it came with our desire to defy
with our desire to survive
with our desire for another renaissance
we can't wait for poetry to knock our doors
we must sow poetry in the ashes
of our death brothers and sisters


扇子 said...

幸運是機會的影子 ....................................................

Ronid Aka Akhu said...

what language is this? earlier i ignored ur i want to know where are u from