journey through

Tonight I fall in love Beware, lady. Beware of the bend of the day, the last seconds before the last embers of light go out. Beware of the sound, of shutters closing, and the deep sigh of a sun breathing its last. Brace yourself, you that caught my sight. Stand steady, you that conquered my heart. Whoever comes home tonight is not a man but a beast, starved and depraved. Whatever comes in tonight is not a gentleman but a freak of nature, locked and caged, kept away from all he wanted and forced to drink from the cup of solitude. Tonight comes a breathless soul, one that does not know how to land softly but to fall in hard and strong. Oh lover, stay steady, for I already am on my way. Oil yourself and perfume your hair. Wear the most beautiful of dresses and put on your dancing shoes, for tonight I give my heart and all. Tonight I wear my armour and walk into the battlefield. Get your gloves ready, and I shall get mine for a start, till we have to fight with bare knuckles. I am not co

The story of my life Does anyone know life, more than he who dwells at the bottom of the mountain? Does anyone know life more than he who lives by the graveyard? What does the eagle have to tell the chick? What has a lion to tell a gazelle? Oh the story of my life, it is not told by fireworks and explosions but with whispers and faint strokes of the brush. It is not told by wails in the night but with whispers in the day, drowned by birds and animals. The story of my life is not a legend or an epic. Just a simple story, yarns spun from the strings of love nourished by simple brooks. It is the tale of muffled speech told by the tongues of the dumb and tears of the unemotional. It is just a simple web, spun by the dying fires of the evening and told over the sinking sun. I am he that they talk about in hushed tones. In my story, the night hungers to come in as soon as day slips away and the struggle begins; the struggle to outlive the dark but it always gives its best to rip me apart. I

Land of the free Oh land of the free, where trumpets sing all day and flutes play all night, why is your maiden tune laden with this much sadness? Oh land of the free, why is there a chain on the feet of your little ones? Why are there muzzles on the mouth of your offspring? You have turned your children into servants, to toil for survival and fight for their lives. Oh land of the free, why does your freedom come at so heavy a cost? Oh land of dreams, why are the nights of your children full of nightmares? Your story is that of tragic ending, and your comedy is that of satire and self-sacrifice. I want to know why the dogs eat to their satisfaction while your own children starve into the cold night. I am humbled oh I am, by the amount of love that pours forth from thy table. Oh I am overwhelmed by the sweet crumbs that fall out of your mouth. Oh lovely nation, thank you for the great feast, but it is your children that hunger. Thank you for the inspiring words, but it is your kindlin

Oh Rebeka I knew that woman, the free spirit that lived up and yonder. I knew her back then, when gods stopped short of drooling and men just short of death. I knew a beautiful woman, back then when heaven was her middle name. Oh Rebeka, wild flower of the west, that sweet fruit from the loins of the blessed, where is the beauty that once was your hair? Where is that disciple that used to flow behind you as you ran? Where is your pride that which once was your jewel? Oh I want to know the man who broke the mare. I would like to see the farmer who picked from the forbidden orchard. I would like to know the axe that brought the mighty oak down to the ground. When I last saw you, men were turning heads. You were the story of the day and the topic of the night. So high you were we had to stare from down under. We mauled you Rebeka, with our deprived eyes.  We hoped for you but then it was not a fairytale where all things were possible. Oh Rebeka, who is it that finally managed to bring y

Oh mighty Athena Thou hast fallen. City of the sun, thou hast turned into ruin, a pile of dust to be scattered in all four corners of the earth. I saw you last night, in the crystal ball in my house. I saw you crashing down from the night sky. I saw you, stripped of your pride and robbed of your grace. I saw your downfall, tower of pride. I saw you fall. Let sorrow become your second name and let grief be the fruit of your loins. Gather the best that still live, to write your dirge and goodbye song. Summon your prophets and soothsayers and watch them beat their chests and tear off their hair. Your children wail with a hunger that cannot be satisfied and the men spend their whole day worrying and hoping. Oh mighty tower of hope; you have now become the chamber of desolation. Forgive us mother, for anchoring our ships in your port. Forgive us, for we got intoxicated with the mangoes in your trees and coconuts in your beaches. Forgive us, for we truly loved the wine you brewed and the be

The parable of the fruit-full one Come no further, you dirty pariah, stay off my couch, you filthy tramp. God loves you. Young woman, your sins are forgiven. Hey you, dip not your fingers into my sacrament bowl. Stand right there, and the lord shall attend to your needs. Close the manhole on your face. Your breath shall ferment my wine. Ah, I see. You need a miracle? What have you got for the Lord? Did the burden of Egypt finally tire you? Did the yoke of sin finally tire your neck? Ah, talk well, and I shall see to it that the road to Canaan squeezes itself for one more soul. You understand? Oh yes Bishop, I do understand that thou must have seen Canaan, but did you see the wilderness in the middle too? You must have seen the other side, but have you seen the wild sea just before that? Oh messenger of the lord, how hungry is he up there? How needy is he that he pities not the echoes in our pockets and the growling in our tummies? Can you tell him to wait till at least he gives us r