watch ur head

Watch your head
there are heavy thoughts in the sky
thoughts to suicide, thoughts to revolution
thoughts to steal, thoughts to kill

"Your eyes are in your face
how will you watch your head
will the government watch it for you
for the ballot papers you have stamped on"

and she never came back

and she never came back
and they say i am fucking going mad
as i lick the tea bag
but they don't know
i can talk to cigarette buds
and i can rebuke humane
looking at the chopped woods
I can mop these clean floor again
i can wait whole night for a three line poem
i can fuck my hand like i am in french whorehouse
i can cook the korean pumpkins in my own style
I can heal my own pain whenever i want
i can lie to my love any time

Call me Drunk
Call me faggot
Call me Loser
Call me lover

but the night is mine
the bed is yours
so i unfold the night sky
and give away the stars
to the burried soldier
Mother earth is pregnant
with dead men and women
and she never came back
and they say i am fucking going mad
as i want to kiss all the cracked sad lips
of all girls in the world
but they don't know
i am the first flower that blooms
in Zinko tree in March
they dont know
I am beginning to convince them
with my kisses that they refused
on their way to their pointless point
where poets painters singers
revolutionaries, bureaucrats meet
greeting each other like they are the best kind
and i am never there
and they are beginning to fear
and she never came back

happy cheiraoba

Happy Cheiraoba"
The Government greets us
The extortionists also greet us
but the body is there
chest, half opened
to stuff their lies
"Happy Cheiraoba"
they pray to their ancestors
for they were fools
"Happy Cheiraoba"
But the cries are lingering in air
and the father is still waiting

wat am i to do now?

i spilled cooking oil on my jacket
and my other woollen clothes have been soaked
what should i wear now?
the road is calling me out
the whole city is expecting snow
what am i to do now?
my finger tips are deprived of music
my life is a sad song of a tired man
what am i to do no

A Windy Day in March

plastic bags are dancing
but not in my songs for sure
but may be in Ani Difranco's
Untouchable Face's fuck you.
the wind snatches away
the smoke from my mouth
and i don't regret it for sure
the chirping birds are flirting
so the trees are watching
I got a crush on the clouds
so it pisses on me
and the sun shines bright
so are their lips and hips.
like physician's prescription
i write one poem a day
but today the wind has written
my share and i become
a line that stops with a comma
i become the one dancing
with the plastic bags
so i light a long fag
and wear black hat
and jump over "Use me"
crashing their camera

elope wid spring

Me and the Spring
sit together at the bench
of Cheongnyani bus stand
as i wait for the bus to home
while Spring waits for the rain to go away
Spring says to me
"can you please get some leaves
or paint the tree bit greener?
It will make my job easier or faster"
"No, I am sorry, i don't know how to paint"
"can you please stop the rain?"
"No i cant, if i could i would have walked
away long ago"

"My bus has arrived
Will you come with me to my home?"
"Do you think the trees will mind?"
"No i don't think so"

And the Spring and i sit in the bus singing
"Seoul, how are your trees gonna flower again
I'm stealing away your flowers
I am eloping with your spring
I am wearing all your flowers in my hair"

"O home my home
spread the fields wide
Wash the trees please
here comes your spring

Hello Seoul

Hi Seoul!
I have come to you
after standing fifteen days in queue
at Passport Office, at Visa counter
after i almost felt in love with the lady in Visa counter
after i said "I love Korea"
after Cathay Pacific left me stranded at the airport

Hello Seoul!
I have come to you to gather your love
and take home and fill the pockets of my country men

Where is the love you showed to me in your movies?
Your Classic was excellent
Your Full House was always sweet
even when my home was starving
Your actors suffer from Alzheimer
Me too nothing I remember
about my past all i know is about my lover.

look at me i am as sweet as your girls
my undergarments are torn
now they look like your expensive thongs
my shoes are colorful too,
they match your roads of yellow oranges
my hair is long, and i don't feel that cold.
the cold of death
i have felt every summer in my hometown
the teenage boys and girls in my town
they are as beautiful as yours

I sleep in Korean time
but wake up at Indian time
with Imphal chewing my brain.
Give me something new Seoul,
I too, have been the soul of my town
like you call yourself the soul of Asia
I represent the poetry of the hopeless
I represent the poets of my generation
who are selfish and proud
who are gluttonous and patriotic.
what are you gonna do with me, Seoul
I am right here writing poetry in your soil
inflicting the dirt of my land in your air.

Hello Seoul!
Snow upon me cool me down
i am a burning charchoal in poor man's fireplace
yet i get cold in the rain of imphal
Dye me white
i will leave red for the poets
and to the tomatoes in the market

Hello Seoul
Let me carry you on my back
when you are drunk with soju
I wont let you fall here and there
like your girls in the subways on the bridge
in the bars in the streets.

My land the poets have carried away
and sold it off to a thing called Literature..
since then my back has been emptied
O Come on Seoul
it is 4 are drunk enough to be on my back
Come on
a lullaby i will hum for you
i will sing to the moon as i walk along
i will dance as i walk along
Come on
Let me kiss your lips till you know i don't cheat
Let us share the Utongchak
i haven't shared anything with anyone
i was once a bull on parade
I am one of the names that the bullets
promise to kiss in lips
Hi Seoul !
Say “Sarange”
“Ei yam ware”

Ode to Snow

O Snow
Come fall in my valley
and flower in the bare trees shorn of leaves
Come cover the fields of dead bodies
Come cover the lines between Nagas and Meiteis

O snow
Come flow in the river of red
Come freeze the fingers that triggers
Come freeze the Loktak Lake
Come cover the chapter of Meiteis
who live in the past of great culture
Come color everyone's hair grey
to remind them they all will die
without their fights to kill too

O snow
They don't know
Time beats everything
O snow
Come flow in my vein of warm blood

korean night

Sitting calmly like the Korean moon
above the curtain of clouds I spoon
what i had in my mind on such a night
of wails and laughter of drunken girls
with faces underneath the powdery
layers of cosmetics and lipsticks,
Find nothing but a naked image of myself
in the mirrors of their colorful lives

Ode to Yaoshang

Look at them
they were the ones
who march the streets
with tearful eyes
look at them
in joy with laughter
like a spring tree in evening wind
they are burning the sungs
in every leikai
they are walking house to house
stepping from doors to doors
"Nakatheng, Nakatheng"
breaking their usual path
from Morgue to cemetery

the night is celebrated with drums,
tube-lights, with local liquor
pouring into their justice thirsty mouth
like a peasant in field
in the first seasonal rain
If the whiteness of boiled eggs mean peace,
this night is a feast of peace
cooked in the kitchen of the poorest of the poors
with flames from the burning pine trees from the hills

Look at them
They have moved on
departing my poetry of blood and anger
Everything changes now.
look at them shining in the light
encircling them in such times of darkness.
have they given away their past
to the evil spirits on Lamta Thangja?

How well dressed they are
they were ones the naked children
of the naked mothers.
they have blocked the roads with ropes
with their sweet smiles
so there, the cars, the bikes, the buses spray the money
in their Joypur;
So unlike the highway blockades
and daily robbery at gun points.

Look at them
they are as colourful as the forgotten flag
of the seven colours.
the fragility of the land has been replaced by Pafor
politicians can be seen in the fancy dress show
and you can laugh at them
revolutionaries are falling in love in Shumang leela
converting their demand letters into love letters

Look at them
I must stop my poem now
before it bleeds

Dated 28th March 2010

missa you

Missa You
my winter dew
on my grass of happy blues.
this night i am gonna chew
the lock of hair you threw
in my cup of coffee bru
as i know no way
to bear such pain of being away
from You