I took my dreams,
And turned them to dust,
There were consequences,
I needed to survive first.
Needless to say,
It worked like a charm,
I bought an ox,
I bought a farm.
Day and night,
All I did was till,
It’s biting weight,
I feel it still;
When my parents sleep on the ground,
When my friends calls me fool,
When my children eat stitches,
When I take them to school.
How must I decide,
Which reason to give,
There are so many to blame,
And to listen, so few,
Could I even speak,
With my so broken voice,
Will it suffice to tell,
That I had no choice.
That I took my dreams,
And turned them to dust,
There were consequences,
But I needed to survive first.


Sad voices,
The old wheel turning,
Machines, mechanics,
My fuel, my blood,
Empty hands hiding open eyes,
Pillar of fire; rusted valve.

Debris at home, served cold,
Head upon altar, Heart upon steps,
Perhaps the wind changes,
Perhaps it dies,
Stand in the line,
Beg for the lies.

Halls of heaven,
This smoke is yours,
Drink in this elixir.
“May you live a hundred years,
In grease and grime,
Half blind till fifty,
Without a crime.”

Children, step back,
There is iron around,
That cackle of chains,
That’s how freedom sound.
No you can’t have it,
Around your neck,
They were forged for us,
For our children’s sake.

Ha ha ho ho,
Low laughter,
You know,
Write my whisper,
Someone’s watching,
Go slow.

There the tapestries, they wave, they wave,
Hanging dynasties,
Headless slave.

If my color could speak,
If my culture could count,
Never would have I needed,
Your gracious discount.

So many words,
So many thoughts,
Which one to speak,
Which one to not?

The Other Side of Horizon

Here the edges of world are frayed,
And the men are lot less quiet,
There is an odor at the end of day,
That lingers through the night.

Here vacant eyes are full of grief,
They see fire with cold flame,
Raging through life which says;
Dream and death are same.

Here flowers bloom in hot winter morn,
Come spring they turn to dust,
There is gold like dirt upon the roads,
And the kingdoms are made of rust.

Here marionettes sit on thrones,
By the virtue they can’t stand,
The Angels see this as misery,
But the Devil understands.

How can I claim your love, my Love?

How can I claim your love, my love,
If your love is what you love the most,
It shall be a sin,
To wear your skin,
And dream of desert, prairies and woodlands west,
Where the sun, girdles me,
My placid sea,
Where seagulls build their floating nest.

How can I claim your love, my love,
When your paper face, one I had never seen,
Draws me,
The way you see, and only you
Can understand,
Why it never matches me,
Yet ever do.

How can I claim your love, my love,
When shades of yours,
Lay deep,
In all abandoned places,
Crying out a chorus, of a joyous destitute,
And to know it to be true,
That come some winter day,
My voice may join it too.

How can I claim your love, my love,
How do I pay the price,
If for the ichor from your ashes,
All my life could suffice,
For it shall be a sin,
To wear your skin,
As every other one,
Whose stars have lost the way to north,
In the way I have gambled my sun.