Mae Hong Son Poetry

Little poems of the mountains,
they waged war against me
with leeches and rain
but i braved them all
drinking local whiskey
till i was out of my sense
now i found them all
as my prisoners of war
Now i will execute them one after another
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we threw ourselves against the mountain
and it embraced us with rain leeches
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The mountain knows it all
but it is just not in the mood
to tell you what have you become
what have you lied for
what have you lived for
what have you done
the mountain knows it all
everything is pointless
even this climbing..
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Every evening
The sun sits on her rooftop
as she sits lavishly
sipping green tea
reading
the little book of war poems
some times
she writes long letter to her warrior
"tonite i will be your poppy flower
come pluck me off my warrior
the bed shall be your battle field
and i will bleed for your love"
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Since the first night in the mountain
a poem has been following me
like a possessive lover
What do i do with it?