Tired Of Running

The memory
Stands like a cracked bronze statue
in a museum
talking, smiling we are tired with life

We struggle to frustrate
old pressures on our backs,
rain beats the ground, we flounder, slip
But still has to survive the implications

Having traveled far, I came upon
mountains of histories ,
dead lakes on which libraries are erected
wheels of the train pass us
chattering like idiots
billows of future meandered, followed the rainbow

Sugar and salt are same to a dying tongue
I must try to join
the broken particles of my slate
though the line maybe there
and only keen eyes will see that my slate broke once,
and on walking was joined
the slate with a line, not black, not white
I will hitch hike with pilgrims to Vietnam to harvest rice

Oh Heavens

Oh Heavens
Hear my burning cry oh
heaven
hear the lament
of a disillusioned soul
whose footprints weave
drunkenly
across the desert floor
You have seen me trudging
across the sands
through whirling storms
staggering over dunes
gasping with thirst
You have seen my steps falter
in oozing sand
you have seen me crawl
towards

dry scilliant water
and yet beneath
your relentless gaze
I still plead,
plead for but a drop
Is there no emotion in you?
o heavens
no compassion?
Hear my whisper
o heaven
before I fall
I have not the strenghth
Heaven , you I Await
Send me an Angel

Leaf In The Wind

Leaf In the Wind
I am the man the colour of Night
Leaf in the dream, I go at the
drift of my dream
I am the tree budding in spring
The dew that hums in the
baobabs hollow
Leaf in the wind, I go at the drift
of my dreams
I am the man they complain of
Because opposed to formality
The man they laugh at
Because opposed to barriers
Leaf in the wind,I go at the drift
of my dreams
I am the man they talk about
*OH HIM*
Him you cannot hold
He is like the breeze that
touches you and is gone
Leaf in the dream, I go at the
drift of my dreams
I am the man whose dreams
Are manifold as the stars
More murmurous than swarms
of bees
More smiling than childrens
smile
Leaf in the wind, I go at the drift
of my dreams
I am the man without a penny
I am a school dropout with no
Stake
But still I will go at the drift of
my dreams.

Make Me Know

Make me know how much
there is to know
Make me know how little I do
know
Make me know how little I need
to know
Make me know how little I am
known
Make me know that I am
nothing to know
Make me know how much there
is to do
Make me know how little I have
done
Make me know how little  is
expected of me
Make me know how little I can
do
Make me know that by myself I
can do anything
Make me know  how much
there is to say
Make me know  how little there
is that needs saying
Make me know how much harm
I have
Saying that which needs not to
be said
Make me know how much there
is to feel
Make me know how little I have
felt
Make me know how little  I am
capable of feeling
Make me know that all has
been been felt for me
Make me know how much
serving there is to do
Make me know how little I had
served
Make me know how much there
is to forgive
Make me know how little i have
forgiven
MY MAKER,
Make me know the good things
this world has for me
on my 20th birthday
I thank you LORD for keeping
me alive.

THE BASTARD

THE BASTARD
An unlucky creation,
His mother, a street walker
His lying father,
A champion at producing
bastards
It is not his fault
Poor innocent bastard,
That in slums he is brought up
By a mother that has no
husband
Though many a husband he sees
Caressing his mother
On a lumpy stool or lumpy bed
An unlucky creation
This bastard
Before birth heavily and
mercilessly tormented
With a rope tied round the
mothers waist
To tangle the foetus
Or his unformed head
Squeezed with hands rough and
murderous
Never will he know motherly
love
Or feel soft hands,
Only the rough fist of old
whores
Dried breasts and stinling spiittle,
And when his mother is gone
To earn her shilling
To bars they are brought
The bastards
Thrown at the father
Like rotten pawpaws
And he , to escape abuse and
shame
Runs faster than the kite
His beer undrunk