The
door of California is beautiful
Its
glorious days shine anew
Glittering
like the heavens fall angel
And
back to the horoscope of the inn dwellers.
There
holds a sign post
“THE
STANDING OF CARLOFORNIA”
“WELCOME
TO THE HONORABLE”
“WELCOME
TO OUR WORLD”.
An
alien who stands topsy-turvy
Chuckling
slowly through the beauties
Here
is California, the honorable
The
home of Arnold Schwzneger.
His
smiling enamels unhidden
And its entails lie beneath
Niggard face tries a pursue,
A
rancor drinking from the sea of hatred.
Eyes
behind the bars
A
body from afar seen
From
a disembodied area approaching
Once
I began drawling to him.
Hold,
hold, hold there, he shouts
Aback
to flesh and turning
The
police he was in full regalia
A
search has being ordered on you.
An
alien to California
Am
an alien a thief not
And
in my head plunged surface
I
remember mother.
Were
with a currency note
You
pass the wright of the hunger bloated mouths
Tried
being a novice to the play of pranks
And
at all not a child’s play.
To
make moves watching them come near
And
standing still plays you a fool
A
step back implies a useless fate
And
drawn in this ocean of confusion.
I
AM A NIGER-AREAN
I
COME FROM NIGER-AREA
The
mother who soaked me with thoughts;
The
thoughts of survival.
Mother
I will return my letters to you
The
letter of the evils of we
Then
the door of eternity shall let loose
And
thus my jingle shall begin.
…………….. LINES
To
thou I speak
Pouring
the golden anklets of war
Booming
its torch of glory
a
touch of vindication acclaims.
for
that name “ an epic to the ungodly gods”
for
she who had all she had forsaken to life lost
stands
then to base around: the sojourners to whom betrayed
and
life piled with life.
thus
a mother tongue yawns and
the
tale of the moons tells
the
head of the orchard comes with a
windy
troy in the battle field.
The
busted justice speak not
Either
my way or turn away ever
A
time or never
The
epic sets behind tree of the orchard.
……………. THEN
A time
for the sun to slide away
And
jumping at my wildest glee;
A
standing tranquilized
The
sinking stars.
To
gaze at the entrancing hours
When
the moon was out to count her dauntless breasts,
The
moping squalid owl
Ready
to attack the night with her ignoble strife.
I
owe a bliss to the mother earth
Who
with her frightful sarcasm,
Calls
the world to clap for her
The
perambulators who stood transfixed at moon tales.
And
it wiggles
We
the wretched mouth that speaks evil of mother
The
nasty mouth which holds bold
Could
ooze away at raining season
The
hungry peasants mouth
Broad
on hunger and anger
and barren stomachs
Who live to die a wet death.
The
cynosure of all enclosed
We
live to die and die to live
A
foretold chiasmus
And
the curtain falls.
……………STAGE
The
men that set the story sets
The
stage is open in its wildest curtains,
And
an actor who steps on a citadel of disgust with
An
architect with a proffering hand and a spell braking blue print.
The
men whom we know are honorable
Brutus
is a faithful friend,
To
Caesar the gods are honorable
And
to God men are most just on stage.
The
life we bear screams: A mistaked actor
The
long and awaited unraveled epic
The
drowsy tickling lulls
Laid quite bare on stage.
I
wait an unawaited life
I
feed on frustration
My
life is choked
Poked
to its very core death.
Of
that man who has written an epitaph
In
the eerie wind of critics.
And
us then the cyclical hypocrites
He
sing ours before our awaited demise
But
to ye men be not proud
that you bequeath life an end
That
all earths’ vanity obey thee,
And so you put a bullet through the rails of our existence
The
harnessed jingles,
The
sycophant who can’t hold their lives even to a better
Then
of their ways and then a whole
The
village Hamden.
Those
are the dogged apes
Indomitable
Casanovas of currencies
With
love for wealth so much refined
The
enthroned captains without a training
Wandering
urchins and
Bouncing
gaieties
Horrors
of the highway
Who crash under the yoke of isles
…………….MOTHER
A woman of bloody hoary headed beings
Who is pleased with blood in disguise
Thus the pens arise in jittery
To speak good of your ills.
At dawn the entrails
A scream like a great shouting
A train with the carnivals lunch
And a cue to the black painted cemetery.
A
glimmering landscape
A
world of death
An
ocean of bloated sorrows
A
hip of regret under the rain
A
mountain laid on ills
The
pen of impossibility,
The
debt of the licenses
Clamors
deep beneath the hades.
For worries
and cares dominate the world
And man
is never at peace
Then he
rapturously gives in the way
That he may pile life's troubles for life.
But
who knows of this
That
life steps back
And currencies
are but mans
And
sectors outgone withers.
Economy
bleaches with man
Lands
saddened to much nutrient
And
death which beholds us all
Still
breaths and cricks from the bench of wolves.
……………..AND AFTER THIS LIFE WHAT ELSE
With
whom shall his flamboyant wealth dwell
Currencies
falling like the beak of the water down
Flowing
above his casket
Were
has he gone with his citadel of glory.
Let
the mete and dole
Gather
and plunge a head difference
Bestride
the threshold
And
haunt the mythical dream.
Our
nights by the eaves
And the
tinder for fire
will free onyx
set in a crown of thorns
From the
wicked sapper.
Light
will come from the darkness
As
she lies down at eve
The
windy troy will be over
Then
I will return with my rhythm.
