We started it all with whispers
at midnight under the blanket
like a mosquito singing Jana Gana Mana
we got louder and louder
like the whistling local trains at dawn.
Like a black and white movie in flashback
like Tarantino's Pulp Fiction
we jumped to shots
which we loved to talk about
Forexample, you said i brushed your breast with my arm
and i said you brushed your breast on my arms
but my cuban second hand jacket sealed away
the softness and mildness of that evening wind
“Is this love?
Or
Is this “Like”?”-
My torn mosquito net sings everynight
I just nod to its rhythm
we walked away to the foothills
(hand in hand )
that joins with the paddy field
and sat on the divider
and you covered your head from the sun
with your shinny disco jacket
while i peeled the sweetest Nobap in Manipur
we shed our clothes and looked at ourselves
like no other animals have looked at themselves
and we convinced ourselves
we are as nature as a grain of paddy.
And we pollinate
You down, I up, as you wish
the wind stops, the world shuts up, as we wish
we wrote fables of our nipples
no history of blood
no hate from past
as if i have flushed them down to dirty yamuna river
and you whispered
“I wish you could do that ”
you, like a child in sleep,
like a blind witch,
murmur away our love
composing lines after lines
like an overdosed poet
quoting my silly behaviours
reminding how stupid i can be
when i m no longer a poet
When i have goonighted to the poet in Akhu
when i goodnight to you every night
with my dirty fingers over my poor naked cellphone
O Kaboklei!
The crab has find its part in Basho's haiku
The khudei has got its starch and wrinkle of our love
The ducks, Dylan has made them drunk in his songs
The fields have had our eggs and cream
Last night i saw you in the film robin hood
Galloping towards me with all your armour of love
I just missed to kiss you
O Kaboklei!
Where are our twelve children?
The Sun is gonna sink amidst the cloud of your wavy black hair
We shall 'goodnight' our children
before we send away them to all the districts as saints of love
we shall greet them “Happy Birthday”
As we give birth to love every day and night
Happy Birthday!
sweet rage
thoiba, stand in queue
get a litre a petrol
I already have got one litre of petrol
after standing four hours in queue
once you get it
you burn from Ukhrul
I will burn from Imphal
lets make ashes out of this land
keep the good ones on right side
keep the bad ones on left side
and burn the bad ones
burn the divide
burn the assembly hall once again
burn their play cards
burn burn burn
i need a new land where i can walk free
where i can ride my bike without driving licence
get a litre a petrol
I already have got one litre of petrol
after standing four hours in queue
once you get it
you burn from Ukhrul
I will burn from Imphal
lets make ashes out of this land
keep the good ones on right side
keep the bad ones on left side
and burn the bad ones
burn the divide
burn the assembly hall once again
burn their play cards
burn burn burn
i need a new land where i can walk free
where i can ride my bike without driving licence
Ode to My Kaboklei
She wants to be a poet
to write me love sonnets
as she knows all i have is poetry
to offer to this world of misery
she held my hand took me to the lane
of the angry poet who searched for the sun
in a pool of blood that stream down
from the chest of his dead son
I held her wrist like she is mine
like a gentle man holding a glass of fine wine
and walked under that noisy evening sky
while the wind whispered “ this is not a goodbye”
Wake up! wake up!
She shakes my body
and makes me laugh away my nightmares
my borken heart, she stitches sharing the thread
she has on her left chest
Yet sometimes we pretend like strangers
and tell each other “we are going no where”
and next moment we say “It was a joke”
and we smile in bytes showing our face like frogs
we fall in love knowing we can't fall in love with each other
manytimes i feel we can be two helpless protagonists of one of GC Tongbra's plays
we live like dancers, we dance so much when we dance
Chewing Pan she roamed in the streets of Shillong
carrying her stitched heart as heavy as jackfruit
when I called her, she said “you taste like kangsoi”
and she giggled and my heart as wet as Cherrapunji
to write me love sonnets
as she knows all i have is poetry
to offer to this world of misery
she held my hand took me to the lane
of the angry poet who searched for the sun
in a pool of blood that stream down
from the chest of his dead son
I held her wrist like she is mine
like a gentle man holding a glass of fine wine
and walked under that noisy evening sky
while the wind whispered “ this is not a goodbye”
Wake up! wake up!
She shakes my body
and makes me laugh away my nightmares
my borken heart, she stitches sharing the thread
she has on her left chest
Yet sometimes we pretend like strangers
and tell each other “we are going no where”
and next moment we say “It was a joke”
and we smile in bytes showing our face like frogs
we fall in love knowing we can't fall in love with each other
manytimes i feel we can be two helpless protagonists of one of GC Tongbra's plays
we live like dancers, we dance so much when we dance
Chewing Pan she roamed in the streets of Shillong
carrying her stitched heart as heavy as jackfruit
when I called her, she said “you taste like kangsoi”
and she giggled and my heart as wet as Cherrapunji
^&#$%^&
Shall i die tonite
for all the things I love?
It seems they have waved goodbye to me
this evening.
The paddy fields, they have harvested.
The song for her, I could not sing
The poetry I love, they hate
This night wind is singing out of tune
Like an air cooler of Indian Summer
I see no more soldiers in streets but dogs and wolves
I wanna go blind and deaf
I wish i can write this poetry better
I wish i can make you love all like i love you all
for all the things I love?
It seems they have waved goodbye to me
this evening.
The paddy fields, they have harvested.
The song for her, I could not sing
The poetry I love, they hate
This night wind is singing out of tune
Like an air cooler of Indian Summer
I see no more soldiers in streets but dogs and wolves
I wanna go blind and deaf
I wish i can write this poetry better
I wish i can make you love all like i love you all
On the Death of Poet A. Ayyappan
In this country of pigheads
You have taught me how to die, Ayyappan!
O poets of my times
Listen to Ayyappan's death
This is your destiny if you believe in speaking
The unspoken words of this fucked up world
This is my own death with my last poem in my torn pocket
which has never cupped a ruppee from the hands of any pigheads
Ayyappan, what were the words of your last poem?
Were they as depressing as Yesenin's last words?
Who smudged the words,
Was that this corrupt wind of this Indian Autumn
Which carries the smell of death from the valley of Kashmir?
Ayyappan, I will never die for this country.
Ayyappan, Were you another Pacha Meitei?
..............................
Note: A Ayyappan was a noted Malayam modernit poet. He was found in an unconscious state on 25th Oct, evening in front of a theatre in THIRUVANANTHAPURAM with a poem in his pocket. He died later in hospital
You have taught me how to die, Ayyappan!
O poets of my times
Listen to Ayyappan's death
This is your destiny if you believe in speaking
The unspoken words of this fucked up world
This is my own death with my last poem in my torn pocket
which has never cupped a ruppee from the hands of any pigheads
Ayyappan, what were the words of your last poem?
Were they as depressing as Yesenin's last words?
Who smudged the words,
Was that this corrupt wind of this Indian Autumn
Which carries the smell of death from the valley of Kashmir?
Ayyappan, I will never die for this country.
Ayyappan, Were you another Pacha Meitei?
..............................
Note: A Ayyappan was a noted Malayam modernit poet. He was found in an unconscious state on 25th Oct, evening in front of a theatre in THIRUVANANTHAPURAM with a poem in his pocket. He died later in hospital
Unhappy
How insane is that to say
I am going to commit suicide
just because I read the last poem of Maya?
and Im no longer nervous
like lovers inside the bus
And i have never sold myself to a god or church
I'm alone and busy finding myself alone
O Poets of my times!
Who told you
These mountains dont sing
They sing in pebbles, my kind of fables
of being loved and used and thrown
Clear you ears, Poets!
they are filled with voices of fearness.
Let me mourn for a while
The cat has stopped drinking my milk
The dog has gone mad and never gonna bark at me
Let me mourn till the morning comes
and welcome me to my bed
Long ago a mosquito kissed at my eyes
whispering “im taking away your sleep from your eyes”
since then i have been awake and hungry
and every where i look around
I see unhappy people
some are aiming through a broken lens of telescope
some are listening to humanity through the broken stethoscopes
Unhappy people, they make me unhappy
Unhappy Artists, they make me grow my moustache
Unhappy singers, they make me sick
Unhappy lovers, They make me see filling forms
I am going to commit suicide
just because I read the last poem of Maya?
and Im no longer nervous
like lovers inside the bus
And i have never sold myself to a god or church
I'm alone and busy finding myself alone
O Poets of my times!
Who told you
These mountains dont sing
They sing in pebbles, my kind of fables
of being loved and used and thrown
Clear you ears, Poets!
they are filled with voices of fearness.
Let me mourn for a while
The cat has stopped drinking my milk
The dog has gone mad and never gonna bark at me
Let me mourn till the morning comes
and welcome me to my bed
Long ago a mosquito kissed at my eyes
whispering “im taking away your sleep from your eyes”
since then i have been awake and hungry
and every where i look around
I see unhappy people
some are aiming through a broken lens of telescope
some are listening to humanity through the broken stethoscopes
Unhappy people, they make me unhappy
Unhappy Artists, they make me grow my moustache
Unhappy singers, they make me sick
Unhappy lovers, They make me see filling forms
Little Angel
The dawn breaks with the music of Pena
and the voice follows haunting the valley
"an ode to our rich culture and tradition"
and the corrupt sky cries its tears upon my tin roof
but who can stop the sun rising
And I wonder
what that little angel must be doing
she must be sleeping?
Has she chaged her torn clothes?
did they give her dinner?
Do they love her enough
not to make me love her?
I don't know
But let this rain be the tears
that she will shed in future
and the voice follows haunting the valley
"an ode to our rich culture and tradition"
and the corrupt sky cries its tears upon my tin roof
but who can stop the sun rising
And I wonder
what that little angel must be doing
she must be sleeping?
Has she chaged her torn clothes?
did they give her dinner?
Do they love her enough
not to make me love her?
I don't know
But let this rain be the tears
that she will shed in future
Come Back Haikhohat Samte
The bamboo shoots were sprouting
Oh! But the July moon died
In the cloud of gun smoke
The rifles getting readied to bang more
To tear the innocence apart
And there you came alone
Passing through different colors of their flags
Passing from Burma border into India
To find the remnants of your home
Where once you collected firewood
Now there you are collecting memories
To remember you had a home
With cattle and poultry
To listen to your evening songs
Now you breathe gun powder
And fumes from the ashes of your burnt house
Now a bullet hit your spine
Leaving you paralyzed on the hospital bed.
Oh! The day I heard about you, Haikhohat Samte
They told me you died three years back
But I’m not a newspaper to forget you and your story
Let me remember you whole of my life
Let me smell the stink till I see
Their bullets melting in your father’s tears.
And let this poem be a bullet to rip this rotten land apart.
Come back! Haikhohat Samte
Where is the plastic pipe that fitted to your urinary tract
Let’s fit it to this land
Stream them away like larva from a volcano
Where is the blanket that covers you
And the foul smell of your half dead body?
Let’s cover this land with the blanket
And upon it we will grow a new land for you
Oh! But the July moon died
In the cloud of gun smoke
The rifles getting readied to bang more
To tear the innocence apart
And there you came alone
Passing through different colors of their flags
Passing from Burma border into India
To find the remnants of your home
Where once you collected firewood
Now there you are collecting memories
To remember you had a home
With cattle and poultry
To listen to your evening songs
Now you breathe gun powder
And fumes from the ashes of your burnt house
Now a bullet hit your spine
Leaving you paralyzed on the hospital bed.
Oh! The day I heard about you, Haikhohat Samte
They told me you died three years back
But I’m not a newspaper to forget you and your story
Let me remember you whole of my life
Let me smell the stink till I see
Their bullets melting in your father’s tears.
And let this poem be a bullet to rip this rotten land apart.
Come back! Haikhohat Samte
Where is the plastic pipe that fitted to your urinary tract
Let’s fit it to this land
Stream them away like larva from a volcano
Where is the blanket that covers you
And the foul smell of your half dead body?
Let’s cover this land with the blanket
And upon it we will grow a new land for you
Ode to Moreh candle
my poetry shines at night through your flame
inside the mosquito net
you dont even care what color it wears
like you are being there as a prostitute.
when the crimson sky fades
with revolution in black market
you emerge out of bamboo shoots and Ngafak
from every small keithels scented with Uhmorock
Mother cooks in your light
Father search for his alcohol scented sons
in your light
from the thatch roof of small huts in hill
you shine on against the darkness of sky
I am gonna burn another you
to see how long this dark night is
is it longer than my poetry of petrol blues?
is it shorter than my song of dream?
Shine on! teach them to burn their weakness
like you burn your wicks showing the light in you
inside the mosquito net
you dont even care what color it wears
like you are being there as a prostitute.
when the crimson sky fades
with revolution in black market
you emerge out of bamboo shoots and Ngafak
from every small keithels scented with Uhmorock
Mother cooks in your light
Father search for his alcohol scented sons
in your light
from the thatch roof of small huts in hill
you shine on against the darkness of sky
I am gonna burn another you
to see how long this dark night is
is it longer than my poetry of petrol blues?
is it shorter than my song of dream?
Shine on! teach them to burn their weakness
like you burn your wicks showing the light in you
Home Coming
When no seeds
answer to the drought
I will be the cloud
above Nongmaiching
from my foot steps
paddy fields will rise
the rodents will drown
in my sweat of dance.
Im coming home
to be the monsoon
Open your thirsty mouth
Let the scars of hunger
in your skin be washed
Let the hills cup me
around the holes of dying pine trees
Let the sky thunder
to quieten your selfish desire
Let the rainbow emerge
to fold the colour of the past, forever
I'm coming home
get the empty vessels and fields cleaned
Im coming home to spread myself
at Tidim road watching the green pastures
that pave from the hills that kiss the sky
excuse me!
Im coming home
leave my way unblocked
let me roll like the way i want
I was born yesterday
i don't give a fuck about day before yesterday
all i care is about rain
and my friends
that are starving
let me hold your hands
there is not a handful of sand
in my hand to show you fear
all i have is an empty wide open arms
answer to the drought
I will be the cloud
above Nongmaiching
from my foot steps
paddy fields will rise
the rodents will drown
in my sweat of dance.
Im coming home
to be the monsoon
Open your thirsty mouth
Let the scars of hunger
in your skin be washed
Let the hills cup me
around the holes of dying pine trees
Let the sky thunder
to quieten your selfish desire
Let the rainbow emerge
to fold the colour of the past, forever
I'm coming home
get the empty vessels and fields cleaned
Im coming home to spread myself
at Tidim road watching the green pastures
that pave from the hills that kiss the sky
excuse me!
Im coming home
leave my way unblocked
let me roll like the way i want
I was born yesterday
i don't give a fuck about day before yesterday
all i care is about rain
and my friends
that are starving
let me hold your hands
there is not a handful of sand
in my hand to show you fear
all i have is an empty wide open arms
Play the Music Loud
Play the music loud
who cares whether they are loading guns
or filling their sacks with golds
roll your smoking paper my freinds
and light it with flames and smokes
there is fire everywhere
dont worry for matchsticks in the land of torch
Play the music loud
No one wants to hear ur scream of cold turkey
Let;s put a curtain here and make it invisible
No one wants to see you banging the doors
No one wants to help you put the ladder on your bed
Play the music loud
Your story is complicated and they hate it
they have no solution for your future
there is no such thing as being a good son
All you have is your generation
squatting by the roadside
fixing their eyes in the lost air of innocence
searching for something to replace their anger
All u have is your generation
smacking their own madness
suffocating in their own vomit
Play the music loud
and look at the windshields of the army trucks
and Hallucinate what you deserve
Once a while you need to be served
Hallucinate what you are not
Once a while you need to be someone else
Hallucinate to be the flag in air
Once a while you need to feel the freedom
Hallucinate to be the names on the tombstones
once a while you need to be a hero
Play the music loud
Scream against this society
Spit at the holes of their guns
throw your fist in the air
Clean yourselves with their memorandums
blow off your nose against their propagandas
Play the music loud
Worry not for those actors and liars and killers.
For all the things they have done
they will be gone
Leaving their homes soak in their own blood
They will be flown like rain
leaving their homes wet
Play the music Loud
Dance inside your canvas shoes
leave the leather shoes for the ones who sing fake blues
You dont need their injection
to look handsome
You don't need their guns
just to say you are lonesome
You dont want to be a good son
for they will demand a ransom
You belong to this generation
to not make a bow at the dead sons
but to cry out loud your existence
from your heart with bloodfull of veins
Play the music loud
don't bother by the clowns in the circus
the stuntmen in suits are jumping
from chair to chair
Play your music loud
The music from the speakers of Television is a lie
the music in the big theater is a fraud
the music in the music stores are for them
who don't have a mouth
The music they call classical will never speak for you
Your mouth is the best speaker for you
Sing with your tongue
don't just hum!
Lick the society's cunt
taste it! face it! chase it!
Play the music Loud
there is no charm in such silence
in such confused face like yours
dont bother by the fights
They are fighting for lands
when they need a space of one square feet to stand
and a seven feet to become ashes
Let them grow the walls of brick
Now stupidity and insanity is part of humanity
Play the music loud
Play the music loud
who cares whether they are loading guns
or filling their sacks with golds
roll your smoking paper my freinds
and light it with flames and smokes
there is fire everywhere
dont worry for matchsticks in the land of torch
Play the music loud
No one wants to hear ur scream of cold turkey
Let;s put a curtain here and make it invisible
No one wants to see you banging the doors
No one wants to help you put the ladder on your bed
Play the music loud
Your story is complicated and they hate it
they have no solution for your future
there is no such thing as being a good son
All you have is your generation
squatting by the roadside
fixing their eyes in the lost air of innocence
searching for something to replace their anger
All u have is your generation
smacking their own madness
suffocating in their own vomit
Play the music loud
and look at the windshields of the army trucks
and Hallucinate what you deserve
Once a while you need to be served
Hallucinate what you are not
Once a while you need to be someone else
Hallucinate to be the flag in air
Once a while you need to feel the freedom
Hallucinate to be the names on the tombstones
once a while you need to be a hero
Play the music loud
Scream against this society
Spit at the holes of their guns
throw your fist in the air
Clean yourselves with their memorandums
blow off your nose against their propagandas
Play the music loud
Worry not for those actors and liars and killers.
For all the things they have done
they will be gone
Leaving their homes soak in their own blood
They will be flown like rain
leaving their homes wet
Play the music Loud
Dance inside your canvas shoes
leave the leather shoes for the ones who sing fake blues
You dont need their injection
to look handsome
You don't need their guns
just to say you are lonesome
You dont want to be a good son
for they will demand a ransom
You belong to this generation
to not make a bow at the dead sons
but to cry out loud your existence
from your heart with bloodfull of veins
Play the music loud
don't bother by the clowns in the circus
the stuntmen in suits are jumping
from chair to chair
Play your music loud
The music from the speakers of Television is a lie
the music in the big theater is a fraud
the music in the music stores are for them
who don't have a mouth
The music they call classical will never speak for you
Your mouth is the best speaker for you
Sing with your tongue
don't just hum!
Lick the society's cunt
taste it! face it! chase it!
Play the music Loud
there is no charm in such silence
in such confused face like yours
dont bother by the fights
They are fighting for lands
when they need a space of one square feet to stand
and a seven feet to become ashes
Let them grow the walls of brick
Now stupidity and insanity is part of humanity
Play the music loud
Play the music loud
such night
Unnoticed Lives in sweat
curled up and falling
on the push carts
under the moonlight
like cucumbers in daytime
on the same push carts,
me and my love saw them
after the dead poet departed us
at the crossroad
leaving the taste of dead fish
in our tongue
and the gate of home
refused us
but i opened it
with a plastic rope
while she like a kid
was riding the scooter
looking at the side glass
for the nose she pierced
and we rode down
together on the highway to love
and the ladies were singing to the goddess
and so we sang together the beauty
and love of such night
curled up and falling
on the push carts
under the moonlight
like cucumbers in daytime
on the same push carts,
me and my love saw them
after the dead poet departed us
at the crossroad
leaving the taste of dead fish
in our tongue
and the gate of home
refused us
but i opened it
with a plastic rope
while she like a kid
was riding the scooter
looking at the side glass
for the nose she pierced
and we rode down
together on the highway to love
and the ladies were singing to the goddess
and so we sang together the beauty
and love of such night
economic blockade
A football was crushed by a highway truck
Economic Blockade!
A mosquito collides with the windshield wiper
Economic Blockade!
A bullock cart bang on an old Banyan tree
Economic Blockade!
O Manipur!
don't think of going back to school,
as you lack good education,
because the schools are closed
O Manipur!
if you have stones in your gall bladder
don't go for surgery
there is no oxygen
and ICU too have been closed
The crest is for him, the trough is for them
but they don't know they are in the same wave
Economic Blockade!
The church greets them, and The tulsi leaves greet him
"Good Morning"
Economic Blockade!
O Manipur!
dont think you can go off to see your lover
dont think you can ride the bike down the road
to get away from this 'You or Me'
because the petrol price hikes to 150rs per litre
Don't think you can cook bamboo shoots
to remind them they have something common
because one LPG cylinder costs 1500rs
O Manipur!
dont think you can get away
Your name is not in Schindler's List
dont think you can get away
riding that brand new Hero bicycle
There are Bicycle Theives too
and don't think you can read the story
of your stolen bicycle in newspaper
because there are no papers left to print your news paper.
India has cut you off
Feel the freedom that you wanted, demanded.
Economic Blockade!
Economic Blockade!
A mosquito collides with the windshield wiper
Economic Blockade!
A bullock cart bang on an old Banyan tree
Economic Blockade!
O Manipur!
don't think of going back to school,
as you lack good education,
because the schools are closed
O Manipur!
if you have stones in your gall bladder
don't go for surgery
there is no oxygen
and ICU too have been closed
The crest is for him, the trough is for them
but they don't know they are in the same wave
Economic Blockade!
The church greets them, and The tulsi leaves greet him
"Good Morning"
Economic Blockade!
O Manipur!
dont think you can go off to see your lover
dont think you can ride the bike down the road
to get away from this 'You or Me'
because the petrol price hikes to 150rs per litre
Don't think you can cook bamboo shoots
to remind them they have something common
because one LPG cylinder costs 1500rs
O Manipur!
dont think you can get away
Your name is not in Schindler's List
dont think you can get away
riding that brand new Hero bicycle
There are Bicycle Theives too
and don't think you can read the story
of your stolen bicycle in newspaper
because there are no papers left to print your news paper.
India has cut you off
Feel the freedom that you wanted, demanded.
Economic Blockade!
I can't name it
Dying in the streets
and leaking out lives through blood
under the boots
or in the great fucking clatters of firing bullets
is part of being a Manipuri
I never learn this in my text books
I never see this in movies
I witnessed them with my own my eyes
crawling under the barricades at Sanjenthong
while the AK rifles were singing their songs
spraying death in air I breathed
Now you feel it on the very highway
which you think is your kingdom
where the history of head huntings had been written
But the truth is now you and me are brothers
Now you are embraced by the Police bullets
Now i see you block the road
not only by digging the road
or chopping down the faithful trees
but using the faneks of your ladies
Where do you learn it from?
Now the rumour spreads
like tumour in the sick brain
but the humour is
it is just another Indian summer story
we are left alone
to be the beasts of the highway
to make you hunt my head
to make me chop your head
And the wind of history sings;
Rwanda is coming your way
Bosnia and Herzegovina, they say
But the truth, You and I must face
that this land is not made out of clay
but only blood
And if you want to break it
there will be blood in the Hills and Valley
and I don't want it
and your Jesus don't want it too
and leaking out lives through blood
under the boots
or in the great fucking clatters of firing bullets
is part of being a Manipuri
I never learn this in my text books
I never see this in movies
I witnessed them with my own my eyes
crawling under the barricades at Sanjenthong
while the AK rifles were singing their songs
spraying death in air I breathed
Now you feel it on the very highway
which you think is your kingdom
where the history of head huntings had been written
But the truth is now you and me are brothers
Now you are embraced by the Police bullets
Now i see you block the road
not only by digging the road
or chopping down the faithful trees
but using the faneks of your ladies
Where do you learn it from?
Now the rumour spreads
like tumour in the sick brain
but the humour is
it is just another Indian summer story
we are left alone
to be the beasts of the highway
to make you hunt my head
to make me chop your head
And the wind of history sings;
Rwanda is coming your way
Bosnia and Herzegovina, they say
But the truth, You and I must face
that this land is not made out of clay
but only blood
And if you want to break it
there will be blood in the Hills and Valley
and I don't want it
and your Jesus don't want it too
death is the only winner
You had June 18th 2001
with the blood of eighteen splattered
in the streets of Imphal
now they have May 6th 2010
with Mao Gate erupting,
with flags
with blood
with children parading the highway
but
who wins the hills?
who wins the valley?
who wins your soul?
Death only death
Death to the fences of barb wires between Naga and Meitei
Death to the cunning balls that roll between ethnicities
with the blood of eighteen splattered
in the streets of Imphal
now they have May 6th 2010
with Mao Gate erupting,
with flags
with blood
with children parading the highway
but
who wins the hills?
who wins the valley?
who wins your soul?
Death only death
Death to the fences of barb wires between Naga and Meitei
Death to the cunning balls that roll between ethnicities
the highway is for god
whatever u hear now
is the story of God
whether you like it or not
if god wants to come
he has to come
but he will not walk upon the land
So they burn the buses to create flames
as flames are friends of gods
The Highway is for his
As you know so he block it from sky
by making a glance
The runaway kid has come back
being god;
so the houses are burning incense sticks
so they open the gate
closing the other
the folk singer is singing
"Oh Chingkhom Philave
Her bosoms like mangoes"
It is the return of a hero
but you never had a hero
Let them celebrate the hero's return
Let them drink down now what they couldn't digest
as past seemed to favor you
The highway is for his, the god,
so the one who prays can block
you are a turtle in dry well
you are as brittle as cheap bangles
learn to get broken once
the fragments will eventually dance
left n right up n down
Every god wants you to fight
Every god wants to grow his clan
Every God wants a flag too
Every God wants to slap you
Every god wants to erase the history
that gave him no space
the radio is playing Leonard Cohen;
"Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon water"
But no one knew he was sailor
but The god is playing his game
and on history you blame
is the story of God
whether you like it or not
if god wants to come
he has to come
but he will not walk upon the land
So they burn the buses to create flames
as flames are friends of gods
The Highway is for his
As you know so he block it from sky
by making a glance
The runaway kid has come back
being god;
so the houses are burning incense sticks
so they open the gate
closing the other
the folk singer is singing
"Oh Chingkhom Philave
Her bosoms like mangoes"
It is the return of a hero
but you never had a hero
Let them celebrate the hero's return
Let them drink down now what they couldn't digest
as past seemed to favor you
The highway is for his, the god,
so the one who prays can block
you are a turtle in dry well
you are as brittle as cheap bangles
learn to get broken once
the fragments will eventually dance
left n right up n down
Every god wants you to fight
Every god wants to grow his clan
Every God wants a flag too
Every God wants to slap you
Every god wants to erase the history
that gave him no space
the radio is playing Leonard Cohen;
"Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon water"
But no one knew he was sailor
but The god is playing his game
and on history you blame
wasting around
who will see the light in me
when they are blinded by their own little selves
the night is roaring and waking me up
but they slumber for the dreams i call waste
Call me a man in thirties
but Im young to waste around in my style
Im gonna walk the road Wild
beware if we meet again I may shoot at you
when they are blinded by their own little selves
the night is roaring and waking me up
but they slumber for the dreams i call waste
Call me a man in thirties
but Im young to waste around in my style
Im gonna walk the road Wild
beware if we meet again I may shoot at you
gimme a liter of kerosene
Give me a Litre of Kerosene
I will burn down this university
for all the things it taught me
for all the years i have spent
like a beggar walking from table to table
I will burn down this university
for all the things it taught me
for all the years i have spent
like a beggar walking from table to table
c me beautiful
See me beautiful
Im no longer a fool
Im no more a fat girl
See me beautiful in ur dream
if you wanna see me fast
sleep soon
Im already in my sleep
and my toes are digging the sand
of your love river
my throat is thirsty of your love spring water
my eyes want to be blinded
by your unwashed dirty long hair
tell me the story of Seoul
tell me how it aches when your love left you
tell me how you deny the morning
when you find no one next to you
tell me I m the only beautiful soul
promise me you will see me beautiful
in my wet hair in my wet clothes
in my pink slippers in my lips with songs of you
See me beautiful hey Nupa
I m your nupi
lets meet on the bed of yellow daffodils
lets wet this land with tears of laughter
hold my hand hey nupa
stop thinking of Naropa university
Im no longer a fool
Im no more a fat girl
See me beautiful in ur dream
if you wanna see me fast
sleep soon
Im already in my sleep
and my toes are digging the sand
of your love river
my throat is thirsty of your love spring water
my eyes want to be blinded
by your unwashed dirty long hair
tell me the story of Seoul
tell me how it aches when your love left you
tell me how you deny the morning
when you find no one next to you
tell me I m the only beautiful soul
promise me you will see me beautiful
in my wet hair in my wet clothes
in my pink slippers in my lips with songs of you
See me beautiful hey Nupa
I m your nupi
lets meet on the bed of yellow daffodils
lets wet this land with tears of laughter
hold my hand hey nupa
stop thinking of Naropa university
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