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Showing posts from July, 2011

OWNER OF THE STREETS

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  You see me and look away. Know this; all I do is hope!!! I am the owner of the streets I know the smell of the air it breathes: The smell of its rotten beans And the stale bread I pick from its bins I know the sting of its murderous air; Midnight when the sun is not there I know the frozen tears of the nights; When we hide from armor-less knights I am that nuisance your eye meets In the markets and the cobbled streets I am the voice that saddles your ears With pleas, heavy with humble airs I carved the visage of your scorn: Ugly like my toe's errant corn And my skin's pleasant fragrance Puts your nose in a fitful trance Your eyes crack me like a roasted nut They tell me you hate me; deny it not Am I not the seed of a faceless man, The fetus of a self-murdered woman? You know not. In the dead of night Under the stars, my dreams make it all right And I hope still and argue against reality As it claws my ragged hope without pity At your table, you scorn the fleshy bon

WHERE IS THE BREATH OF FRESH AIR?

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A hundred and fifty millions noses sniffing the air Searching for the fragrance that is not there They go snif, sniff; father, mother and the brood For our Shepherd had Luck and he was Good A breath of fresh air we sought;in the dark we groped Unlit candles in our calloused hands; and we hoped For the wind to blow in the fragrance of roses And sweep away the stench pinching our mucused noses We placed our marks beside the faces; our eggs in the basket For we hoped that they end not in wooden caskets We drank the gift of the sun with parched throats And guarded our painted marks with armoured oaths Now our noses are twisted like the aged oak in my village We have twisted them; first with hope and now with rage We smell nothing now for our runny noses are stopped By the odour of the farts their buttocks have dropped. We have fallen from the heated pan into raging flames And our souls have been scared from our hungry frames We hear not for our ears are de