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Thursday, September 25, 2014

Just in Case its Still Burning



Just in case its still burning,
I'm going to place it well outside;
So it doesn't set fire
To things not already fried.
Things combusting anyway
In the chemical process of life,
In the bowlful of time we have
To choose from a million strings;
To pull the ones we like,
And wrap the ones we love;
To grab the things we need,
And embrace the things we are.
In the spoonful of freedom
To roam the incessant world,
Seeking what is meant to be.

Just in case it's still burning,
I will extinguish it right now,
So it doesn't burn my forests,
And it doesn't wreck my soil;
So it doesn't soil the water,
Or smoke the air away;
So the beasts and the bees
And the birds and the trees
Can breathe in harmony
With the frequency of the times.
I shall keep a safe distance,
And walk a careful line;
I shall not approach a fire,
Nor leave the gas-knob on;
Just in case it's still burning...


Somewhere in the Distance

Somewhere in the distance
Love cowers away, trembling
Inside a cave, on a lonely mountain
She's made a home there
She got a bonfire, some firewood
And cooks her dinner
On a steel pot hanging over the fire
Where she cooks her stew and rice
And feeds her children to make them strong
Enough to face this world

Somewhere in the distance
Beside a desolate seashore
Must be dwelling peace
Deep in meditation, as she searches
The cosmos' deepest crevasses
To find the strength she needs
To stand a chance against 'progress'
In this endless race to death
And she starves herself on morsels
That we toss at the bowl she holds

Somewhere in the distance
On an island, lost in thought
Lies meaning, waving a flag
But our boats don't go that way
No radar notes her distress signs
So tired of waving, she sits
Reminiscing, of days gone by
When they'd place her downtown
And there were carnivals in her honour
Where people danced and played

Somewhere in the distance
Beyond the clueless mob you chase
In another direction lies truth
She's stoned out of her mind
And she doesn't give a damn
For she is what she is
And if our worldly ways and fashion sense
Can't stand the sight of her
Then behind the curtains of our eyes
She'd gladly wait away

Somewhere in the distance
Maybe somewhere in your head
Lies the key to many things
That you chase and seek in vain
But your eyes are pointed westward
And you're all empirical
While wisdom lies buried under
The garbage dump of 'advancement'
And you might be all that's needed
To make the sisters re-unite...






Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Blue Eyes

You had blue eyes,
From what I can remember
You rose from still waters,
and walked on the golden sand.
With the sureness of your feet
And your well-rehearsed lines,
You taught me to dream
Of a world different from mine;
A world that was yours,
And one that was better than mine
Because I loved you.

I did not know that your eyes
Were on my chest pocket,
Where I keep important stuff -
Like my credit card, notes, my numbers,
And not on my heart,
Where I keep important stuff
Like my values, my principles,
my beliefs, my loved ones.
You wanted the minerals and the oil
And the land and the money;
My women and my cattle.

I welcomed you with open arms,
And you had concealed all your arms.
While I was busy washing your feet,
You were checking your balance sheets.
I was busy tilling my fields,
An you were busy selling my soul.
While I was slaying my goats for you,
You were throwing the bones at me.
Till my people were at your command -
Their heads in your god's hands.

You took what you wanted
And gave  what you chose,
And I was a benevolent monk
Till I was too weak and empty -
Devoid of my substances,
Devoid of my substance.
I became a mirror image of you,
Except I knew that I was the mirror
And I knew I would shatter someday
And only you shall remain -
With everything that was once mine.

And so you wanted me to shatter,
To cave in from within, soon,
So you could have her all to yourself.
So you sent in your planes,
And you dropped all the bombs;
You sent in your soldiers,
And pronounced me the terrorist.
My children with stones in their hands
Were crushed to the ground by your tanks;
Until we bowed to your image,
And melted ourselves in your mould.

Moulds that were blonde and fair,
Tall, pale and outspoken,
With long faces and sharp noses -
Mere clones of each other.
With a sponge for a brain,
We spoke of 'technology' and 'progress',
Of countries and boundaries,
And other such imaginary lines and gods -
With a Bible in one hand
And a shotgun in the other;
And from what I can remember,
You had blue eyes...



Thursday, September 18, 2014

Familiar Stranger

Sometimes the world spins away from me; everyone keeps stepping on my toes and reflections never meet reality; but I don't find it hard to find my way with rhymes in spaces way inside my head, where the days aren't lonely, the springs bounce with water and the curtains remove shadows from reality.


Back here I call my sleep awakenness, for my dreams begin to taste reality, and lying close to that faithful shadow of yours, I wonder if the sun would ever change its ways - I travel along like a palm print on a dusty windscreen and I don't even see the same old face in the mirror anymore.


If falling didn't involve getting hurt, I'd fall back in again, again I swear; I learn a lesson, fail to prove my point - I had become familiar with a stranger, but now I've become a familiar stranger. Yeah, I've become a familiar silly stranger; and you've become a familiar stranger, a familiar little stranger...

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Purple Shades


Verse 1:

The lavender skies are full of screaming souls
with shadows of hope
You listen a while as you choose your shades
from the kaleidoscope
The vision is gone, the bridge is down
Stumbling blocks of hope all around

But you live your own
Among faces unknown
As the little girl is hurtled by the crowd.
you see her purple robes
and an empty begging bowl
and purple tears rolling down her soul

Bridge:

Turn the stumbling blocks to cornerstones
Build a bridge and you'll know you're not alone
On that long way to go...

Verse 2:

The spirit of truth is burning in the fire
of solitude
Your purple shades make that purple haze
and your attitude
Purple clouds, purple tar,
the crazy guy with a purple scar

You dream your fears away
as people pass away
The riots grow wilder everyday
Purple swords flash, purple torches burn
As you drive by a purple bloodshore

We've got a long way to go
Yeah, we've got a long way to go...

The Songer

Walking down the lonely road
There's a girl he'd like to meet
Whistling out a distant tune
His footsteps keep the beat
He looks around to find some peace
But there's hatred all around
Cautious hearts and careful tongues
Love's a thirsty hound

And he says my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-
my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my
And he says my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-
my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my

There are windows that he can't repair
Stones he can't unturn
Souls that go through wear n tear
Virgins don't return
Gods that bless and gods that kill
Stretchmarks on the sun
Presley, Marley, Jackson gone
And Bieber's number one

And he says my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-
my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my
And he says my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-
my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my

Flocks of people on the run
In a race that never ends
Clueless minds and blinded souls
Crashing at the bends
He plucks his strings and croons a tune
His heart is what he sings
You can choose to race the rats again
Or heal your wounded wings

And he says my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-
my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my
And he says my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-
my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my-o-my

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

The Room (III)















I still go back to the room sometimes;
Sliding my fingers along the charred walls.
You might find my fingerprints if you happen to visit -
A few here and there, on the walls, the table, the shelves,
And many next to the cracked picture frame still by the bed.
I looked for your prints too, but couldn't find them;
Nor the fragrance of your perfume, conditioner or body lotion;
Just an overpowering presence of charcoal and dust.
I hope you have found a better room somewhere;
I hope you really have been able to forget
These broken pieces and torn fragments
Like you said you would.
But in case you'd like to know,
There are two corners still intact -
The stool that I had sat and dreamt on,
Empty and bare, except when I sit on it to rest.
From there I see the other corner,
With things of yours that weren't destroyed -
Like the dressing table you had sat on
To put on your make-up before you left,
The oven where you baked those cakes
To take with you while I slept,
And those wine-bottles you emptied,
The wine glass with your lipstick still on it -
Just a few things that remain intact in all this mess.

I look around for things I can salvage.
No, I won't take anything that is yours;
Just your memories are heavy enough any way,
And I walk a lot these days, mostly by myself,
Singing songs, seeking love, meaning and hope.
No, what I look for is my pride,
Stowed away somewhere, covered in soot,
My ego that I had peeled away for you,
And my sense of self-esteem.
I've got a sack with me this time,
For I find them all in pieces -
Some burnt, some stained, some broken,
But I will take them with me, on my back,
In my little sack, to fix them with what I can find.
And before I leave, I turn around
To look at the room, hoping it's for the last time,
Though I realise we might be back here again,
You less likely than me for sure, and we?
Almost definitely not together.
But if you do come back here sometime,
Please see if you have the part of me that left with you -
I assume that you don't need it anymore -
You can place it on the bookshelf,
Not on the top shelf, just somewhere you can reach -
Maybe next to the charred pages of Kafka...

Saturday, September 6, 2014

The Room (II)

We got curtains and latches,
And locked ourselves inside;
We played our music
And the lights were all dim and warm;
We got high in each others arms -
A high that dreams are made of,
As I sat on a stool in the corner.
Everything was perfect -
The towels neatly folded, tucked away in the closet,
The tea-cups neatly arranged above the kitchen sink,
The bed-covers laid with all the creases ironed out,
There was nothing before us, and nothing after.
Everything else was either forgiven or justified;
I was on a mountain-top,
And the valley around was beautiful -
This was the promised land
That I had trudged towards for ages,
And I could sigh in peace at the beauty of it all.

You had awoken before me I guess,
For when I woke up,
With 50 strands of grey hair and a missing tooth,
I caught you staring out the window,
With an expressionless face lost in thought,
At a swirling past you hadn't left behind,
As it's waves lashed against the window-pane,
Knocking against your head until you let them in.
They were inside - in our room,
Quietly taking everything apart.
The smile that had masked your mind was gone
And the words were now only in your head,
Outside-a stormy silence.

They came and pillaged, bombed and raided,
And by the time I was in my senses,
They had melted the pictures and stained the walls,
Made fire-wood out of the floor,
Smashed the tables and pulled down the shelves,
The kitchen sink was broken and the bookshelf on fire.
And in all the mess, you had walked out,
And all that was left was either burnt or broken -
Remains of a dream we had dreamt together,
A dream I was still dreaming alone,
And a little note by the doorknob said,
"Sorry for the mess, but I did love you truly"