Cut my tongue
slip it inside your cunt
it will start speaking
something else to please you
or it may die
before it reaches your womb
it is not the tongue
it is the matter of heart
Waking up at this hour
i cook bamboo shoot
as the dream smelt home
i sold away my freedom
to all birds
in return they pay me
bird's eye view of a tiny insect
who seeks freedom
from elephant
slanted eyes they look at me
poisoning the sound of silence
deprived of a clear blue sky
i pray for a red one
a red sky with nipples
which rain freedom
some go for bullets
some go for tablets
or all they sit by the roadside
chattering like sparrow
and they celebrate
a feast in the name of east
is it sadness or madness
that night is crying
through the hole
of the old banyan tree
with the fallen leaves wiping
the streets scarred by their boots
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