Streets Of Imphal

it is on the streets of Imphal
where blood streams out from the wall

it is on the streets of Imphal
where the smoking guns walk



it is on the streets of imphal
where the effigies of Ministers' being burnt

it is on the bank of Imphal river
where doped youngsters hide and giggles

it is on the streets of Imphal
where lovers are caught for the act of love

it is on the streets of Imphal
where you see the red stars hanging

it is on the streets of Imphal
where protester burn themselves alive

it is on the streets of Imphal
where civilians been killed for no reason

it is on the streets of Imphal
where you see the masked rickshaw pullers

it is on the streets of Imphal
where mothers are in flame at nights

ask me not a reason
for being a seasoned
Victim in this battle
of self determination

every morning leaves a dream
haunting across the streets of Imphal

we talk
of it got caught
in this town of frauds
we swam across
to run away like a toad
but the tails got stuck
at where we belong

we sing a song
to forget the dawn
as it never brings
a new me and you

Oh! Imphal,
home to many homeless soldiers
cemetery for many mothers' son .
i wanna tailor a gown
for you for every chaotic nights
that you have suffered.

Give me a day
they do not threat me
Give me a night
i do not hear a bang

I will show you the dream
which never slips away
even if the dawn breaks

Beggar's Lament

I curse you for all the good foods you eat
I hate you for all the warm winter cloths you wear
You disgust me with your unkind nature
Your pockets are with full of silver coins
But do not bother to notice a cripple
Who crawls towards your civilized door
Do not bother to look at it with an eyen open.

You are served with an apple a day,
Two meals and a breakfast a day.
You change your cloths

For every move you make.
The men come to polish your nails.
The men come to wash your inner wears.
And when you walk for a yard you pant

You just sweat and feel uneasy.
Your belly like you are pregnant

Coming out of you

You are so ugly and funny

I curse you for feeding your dogs with meat
I hate you for spitting
All over my road where I sleep
You disgust me with the way you scratch yourself
I am not going to beg you anymore
Even for all the good foods you have
Even for all warm winter cloths you have
Even for all the Gods you know

You have never slept on a road
You have never begged to anyone
But to the whores
You think I belong to this road.
There are thousands of roads
With thousands of people
Who sleeps half naked on the pavement
I am not alone
Half of your civilized world
Sleep on the streets……….

they call me an Outlaw

I don't know why you been so low
since i came and knock your door
yeah they call me an outlaw
say “i don't seem to know the law”
they say im their foe
“i don't know what i' m looking for”

you been hypnotized by writers and the system
you been socialized with flamboyant intellectuals
you have read books of Cuban revolution
you claim you been for the poor chasing the Sun
you put up posters of Guevara
upon the painted walls of your house of selfishness
you even wore him as your panties
but you don't stand in side your shoes
Behind the veil i see you being confused
but you claim to be as clear as Confucious

“you and i shall be free” we sang
they left me half killed with a bang
and you sipping your coffee in the party hall
singing you are in balls and chains
flirting with captains blowing the smoke

everywhere i go i can see my portrait
upon every walls of my own village
they asked you about the face
you said we been just friends
i remember your poetry

“Give me the Sun
Take away my full moon nights
the starry night makes me wonder
for the next meal and the supper

farmers committing suicide
and too they can't hide
from the taxes and the fights
hungry cries haunt the highway
and me with my notepad far away
from the way
crafting my poetry
a poetry to bring the change
of this night to a dawn with a new Sun
with the new Son of this land

glory days gonna come
shinny sky gonna bend
below you and me
and you and i shall be free forever”

when i'm alone

i been sitting here for so long
wasting time, just staring at the phone
wondering should I call you or not
and i realize you are not alone

your memories shine
your lip sings and smile
when i' m alone
when no songs haunt

you and i lie
you and i fly
you and i die
it's beautiful ly
when i' m alone
sitting alone in the stair
watching your hair
flying in the air.

mail to a fren (part II)

I'm fine happy
shining like evening sky
no worries for future
why should i be worried
when i'm getting my bread free
as long as i have words for my poetry
and lyrics to sing i'm happy
hope you are happy too
good to hear that you are serious about life
yeah but i'm not still
this heart never agrees with reality
and never practical
i am still in my wonderland
with my hands waving free in the air
thanks for mailing me

with love
akhu

jotting down everything i dont understand

i woke up
in the silence of morning mist
without any sleep,
i was lost in the deep
of the night
...................................

i was left alone facing the wall
as if i was the only drunk in this world
no one pays me for my existence
i look around saw a girl with a fake cake
offer me a peice of it
i know i dont want a shit of it
all i want is to fly high
all i want is to lie down
but no arms
except this old yellow pillow
...................................................

thousands of readers and critics
hundreds of fighters and lovers
and all the motherfuckers
listen to me reciting my mafking poetry
yeah sometimes about love
sometimes about prostitution
sometimes insomnia
sometimes protesting against everything
.....................................................

the men with armour of gold
tell the story of the acts of god
yeah! they have fans
and golden eggs by costliest hen
yeah! they have sent
me to school to follow them
like another fool to join the chain
but now i twist and turn the road
notice the air is too hot
to breath for my survival
yeah i have, too, no rival
......................................................
what the fuck am i writing
i dont know
.....................................................

i give up the hope of my own dreams
i try my best but i'm defeated
dreams often remind me im the loser
every night, it haunts me
I can't run and hide
my tongue is tied
the truth i can't speak
the walls are too thick
love dies love lies
broken promises like glasses
cut me into peices
the fingers unknowingly
searching for the right shot
to give me the final cut
............................................

hey girl
you left your sweet smile
underneath my pillow

hey girl
you thought i'm numb and blind
but i can figure out your color

hey girl
we belong under the same clouds
if you fly i can fly too

hey girl
your smile like a wall paper
of yellow daffodil asking me to pluck and suck..
........................................

dated 19th october 2006

lament

when people learn life is short
when no priests say
his religion is the best
when no beggars beg
and we are same
and not chained
when no soldier exists
to shoot another mother's son
when the freedom shines
to all the nations like the Sun
when no boudaries are drawn
between diamond and rust
when no river poems flow
to the seas of hatred
I will walk down
I will walk down
the road to mother earth

copyright@ronid 2006

a sketch of no man's land (moreh)

never been to America or elsewhere
except to Myanmar

it's the no man's land
adventurous people come and go
looking for sex drugs guns golds and pearls
and for your kind information
the cheapest sex is there
the quickest consequences you will know.

the town with the yellow girls
famous to me for its sugarcane juice
famous for its candles and bangles
famous for years like an old wine
my granpa had before he dined

the thin line of the border
each side with flags of different colors
the BSF standing still watching the chicks
in their uniform and unclean beard
i was told they enjoy watching in and out of the girls

the river by the woods
where they remove their hoods
to wash the sweats and go back home
was where blood used to stream
where the forgotten hero washed the bloody sword

the evening scenes often remind me
the ancient Rome created by Goscinny and Uderzo

the market with the stink of fresh river fish
the people, the air, the monks too
the smell of the burning incense stick
from the Buddhist monastery
like a blue shade upon the vast ocean

the varied pickles of varied fruits
the roasted sunflower seeds with milk
inside the polythene
pictures of the yellow girls
sold by the ladies
chatting away their last night's orgies

the half opened pumpkin in the market
glows in yellow
you can see from the nearby hills
i never made mistake in pointing that out
even if i am colorblind

the monks on the little honda bikes
taking advantage of civilization

the southern sons, in their rolled up mund
the long thick golden chain
contrasting their own hairy dark skins
but goes well with their agressiveness,
biking up and down the pebbled streets
the streets of the ruling corrupt government

the sellers, the buyers shouting
and bargaining over the floral blanket

the roadside furniture shop
decorated with the yellow marigold flowers
for the coming pooja or christmas who cares
they just have to sell away their things

the crazy sun seems low and unkind
disturbing the old woodcutter's wrinkled eye
the windy evening carries the men
around the oval of the hips of the ladies

many tried to knock down the girls
inside the cabin made of wood
but return broke and empty like a gambler
down on their luck
here hundred doors open to become rich
to those born with the silver spoon
..................................akhu fades..............................

Glossary:
mund : south indian lungi
Goscinny and Uderzo: creator of Asterix comic

i'm trying to sketch some scenes of a place called Moreh. it's a hub to small town like imphal economically.
eveything that we use from morning till night comes though this town moreh. it's been a life saver town. it lies in the Indo-Myanmar border. Thank you, Moreh!

evening walk

i had a weird idea to write a poem while walking down the Aundh Road
this road is quite quiet and calm.never believe
it somewhere connects the city. i walked towards Parihar Chowk in search of some
evening snacks, after a while, i walked the reverse direction but by that time my evening snacks turned already into a poetry.

they scrap me on my ass and face
they have a different tongue and face
they said i'm like a garden
rose up from a stinking garbage
i really dont understand the language
was it a sarcasm like those school boys
in this globalised globe on my table.
i was scratching my head just for money
scratching my balls like a monkey
where should i go or listen the bastards?
oh! i dont wanna leave this city
but what this city has given me is shitty
mama's girl with the doll singing lullaby
for the beggars from the long big red car
the passers gaze up wondering why
i dont know why too they look up like
a frog waiting for heaven's urine
i saw lovers
they die for each other
they smile when they die
they never say bye when they leave
as the lady from south inform me
when i was young and poetic
and bit wild and alcoholic

the flying crane's leg hanging
like a bamboo
across the lake with the green hyacinth
the chickens reciting charles dicken's poems
the mother feeding the husband
the armies commiting suicide
the youngsters feeling high
in their faded jeans and jockey shorts
the city lies inside my keyboard
isn't it funny
whatever i see and feel was fake
whatever i wrote is not mine
I steal, rob and snatch from you
dont tell me back what you are
my lovers i love you like my poems
my friend i can sing you hundred songs
i can play and blow thousand tunes
dont tell me I'm garden or garbage
i know it's hard to be what we are.

civilization

why the fuck the ducks walk like drunk?
why the fuck i'm too blunt?
why the bucks are so hard to earn?
why the bugs are not still burnt?

i'm screaming out my guts loud
but it is never too loud
wanna run away somwhere down to burma
wanna be a little monk without dharma
smoking lots of kabo bidi
wandering along the indo-myanmar border
whistling "go fuck yourself with your mother
go fuck yourself with your acts
go kill yourself with your bullets"

your civilization sucks
your mother is hurt
i'm happy with my plate of rice and farm
i'm busy with my loveless life and the dam
now is the twenty first century
all the cricketers can score century
still somebody is hungry
still somebody roams in naked on the street
down to earth
with the dreadlock hair
laughing and floating in the smoke of grass
nobody cares nobody
everybody fucks everybody
given a time and place
me too wanna fuck you all

forgotten morning

the morning was silent, cold and forgotten
my room was filled with my thoughts
the tea got spilled over my favourite shirt
the huge sum of phone bills upon my wallet
the curtains splitting wide like a virgin
my window like a black n white television
i could see the sweeper emptying the dust bin

with one hand holding a bidi,
endless smoke from his stinking mouth
perhaps it's the sweetest mouth to his old wife.
the clouds chasing the lazy sun
like in south people chasing northern sons.
the school kids have been dressed up forcibly
some are smiling, some are crying,

some are sleeping and walking
like a flock of frogs looking for rain
they've been woken up from their wonderland.
the newspaper boy cycling so fast
as if he was going to miss the news
of the death of the lady
who has been raped, murdered and shot

the forgotten morning had lots to watch
the remembered evening had nothing except to forget

independence day

my love, can you hear the soldiers marching?
dont you hear the trumpet?
it's independence day.
can you see the tricolor flag waving
goodbye to poverty?
don't you hear the soldiers taking
oath just for you and me?
dont you hear,
the wealthy politicians hosting
the farmers' feast,
promising more crops in the coming years
simply by sitting on his wives' lap?

the armies
the rapists
the singers
the lawyers
the activists
the revolutionaries
the snippers
the pretenders
are gonna help us.

i ain't got no mouth and guts
i ain't got no bullets and shells
i ain't got no love of you and me
they are the savers they are the fighters
they are the keepers, they are the law

oh! Mr. Prime minister are you happy
to see my mothers naked.
oh! Mr. Captain dont you hear the slogan:
"Indian Army, Rape Us"

the deserted road maitain its desertedness.
the mournful cry completes our ears.
the killers' AK47s complete our sights.
the politicians make us go on and on.
a night is not complete without a gunshot.

it's the celebration of independence day.
we are the players they are the judges.

...........................fade...................................

it is raining

it's raining like it has never rained before
the sky's been dull, black clouds've been drifting
my money plant in my corridor becomes wild
spreading like my hair
i'm happy like hippies in woodstock '69

my neighbour's been smoking
everybody's been working like dog
me too busy like a bee in spring
wandering in rain in naked
my toes upon wet mother earth digging

and make me fall in love with everything
under this hazzy sky as if i'd never known love
i feel cold but my soul's happy
even if it's not fed with a proper love
my feets are dancing even if i crawl

march made me sick even if it was spring
june made me cry in tears with viral fever
i stood up in july with a new me
august reminds me my dark lady seeeing me off
i used to be loved ,true, pure and moody

now i rise from my mountains of blues
shine against the long dark cloud
hoping a rainy day again,
so rainy like Cheerapunji
there's no doubt
i'm happy
and sound like a reggae singer.

foot tapping love song

are there tears that you hide from the mirror?
are there liars that you still love and adore?
are there fears within love and lovers?
are there memories that stain like your scar?
are there nights that makes you cry and shiver?

look around,
to you no one's bound
dont get drowned, dont be down
you are still beautiful.

are there pains that make you strong?
are there hands that wipe your tears?
are there times you expect call from your love?
are there memories that scare you like cancer?
are there babies that i kill just for you?

i look upright
see a baby's smile
it's alright
i'm still suffering.

are there times that you cut your hand?
are there bloods inside your veins?
are there flood that wash your pain?
are there hatred for my words of anger?

i feel the air
been swimming for years
like a drowning deer
i'm still hiding tears.

prostitute

what is your business is none of my business
where you sleep is just a dirty bed to me
how your nipples smell is rotten apples
how your curly hair looks is bramble bush
how your hip curves i dont know

your mouth is stinking
but you want me to pay for it
you want to swallow me
but i'm with my clothes on

my lies are my feelings of the moment
your lies are like flies buzzing in my ear

your sweet words and whispers
sound like two tin roof
scratching against each other
the depth of your navel
than your words it is deeper

what i do is not to impress or defame you
why i come to you is for my animalities

the wild heart beats like a drum in jungle
it tangles up with the sound of your bangles
the rack of my love never lasts again
the armour, sheds, that i wore to face the pain

and i heard the far away voice singing
"you told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception."

scream

my house is on fire
my brother is in prison
my sisters have been raped
my mouth has been shut
my hands have been inside pocket
i can't let my land burn into ashes anymore
i can't let the river flow to the sea of blood
i can't let them decide how i'm supposed to eat


the roads with full of foreign dogs or copes
the revolver pointing at me
like i was born to be a loser
like i was born to be killed
my brother was protesting to his last breath
he died without a cost
my sister is dying of hunger
my friends have been beaten black and blue
I can't let it happen anymore
I can't let my sister bleeds
I can't let the dogs snif my shoe

can somebody hear me screaming
let's get together
our voice will be heard

beethoven's grave

i see Beethoven's grave in my dream
i could hear the moonlight sonata
the romantic music of the romantic period
the loving fingers of the pianist
pointing at me

the drunk father and the poor brothers
listening the magical fingers
the notes grow like waves in the ocean
the soothing sound from the wooden piano

fills all the sober heart
the left over notes
his heart found
carried in his finger tips

copyright 2006 akhu

insomnia

i was enjoying the calmness of lonely night
i was celebrating human imagination
the mind vehicle passed the highway of madness
the bitches walking around with their hanging breast
my coward soul silently giggles and eat the bread

my ashtray with full of ashes
there's no word left for my pages
my body clock has reached the stage
but the story of walkers on the edge
is not yet over, story of a rolling egg
rolling from trough to crest

my dry throat cried for a gulp of water
and the trembling hands for the last drag
my feelings like bleeding of a teenage girl
never stop outpouring

the brimming rivers are my stories
the weathy fat asses are the devils
the bitches are my angels
the children in rain are the heroes
washing away the evils of human womb
in the rain of bullets and worms

i reach where i could never be
your appreciation is accepted

every sleepless night has a story
but this one will remain incomplete
vincent's madness was famous after the gun shot
i'm gonna sleep let's see what happen
but It's just a celebration of human imagination

house arrestee and the beggar

Feed me some love, my sweet lover

I'm sick of reading this same old newspaper

Play me a song, my old war radio,
For an house arrestee but not for Galileo

Give me some sweetness, my sweet mango
I'm tired to keep my head upon the pillow

Give me your words for my poetry
My words often remind me the useless history

Arrest my wild thoughts, Mr Sheriff
It's gonna rob my soul from this skinny ribs

Set me free Mr jailer or chained me tight
I'm tired to stand nowhere in this fight

Rain on me, you, Mr. Flying Dark Cloud
For the thirsty soul, for a better shout

Come to me, you, Mr. Beggar
Sing me a song of freedom like a singer

the beggar sings
"you and me are same till we die
freedom never comes even if you dive
in the ocean of love,
in the ocean of time,
It's higher than the sky,
Give me your coins before I die
For such song, I dont waste my time
I sing for a mouthfull of rice
For my lover, for a new play of dice."

I sing him back:
"i was celebrating
my freedom of expression
now i'm arrested in my mansion
The sheriff never sets me free
The sweet mango never falls free
My saving coins slip away
My pockets are torn
Nothing left just a mournful song
For someone like you and me."

.................fade..........akhu...............

from tamenglong to home

tamenglong is a name of a district in manipur

A road called Ding Dong
Leads me to my home
From a place called Tamenglong

A road, somewhere up somewhere down
With the smell of the dusty green leaves
Along the range of mountains

A woodcutter's girl sits on the rock
Beside the ding dong road
Singing song like pop rock
She waves goodbye
Rub the watery nose, again cry

I long for my home
but the road never ends
The further i look away
The further I'm away from home

It's a real ding dong
If you take a bus ride along
The road called ding dong
But it will lead me to home

The road takes me, sometimes to cloud
Sometimes down to earth
The screaming wheels like country songs
Like I'm at the farthest end of the country
Which I never own.

It's a real ding dong
Even for the dogs on the roads
Sniffing the bloodiest meat
But they too scared for the Bones
Like once the dogs forgot to bark

It's a real ding dong.
If you take a bus ride along
The road called ding dong
From the place called Tamenglong
But you'll reach home safe
If you think you own this land

...............akhu...........................