Saturday, October 31, 2009

c p aboobacker


when death is imminent

In the threads hanging from heaven
Fly butterflies
Sun and Earth
Join together
Within the dense pores
Creation of truth and equality
Has begun on the mountain slopes
Sculptor has begun meditation
Before the heaps of clay
New fields of struggle
Are in formation
With kindliness and love
As weapons
Along the paths to heaven
Sights of the army of love
Marching forward
The final moments of
Until I dissolve in my end
Through wind, rain and sun

in wait
Waiting for the tram
By this narrow lane
I spent a seed to germinate,
To grow into a tree,
To flower and fruition
Waiting for the train
By the blue lake
I spent an egg to hatch,
To wing into a sparrow
And fly awayWaiting for the ship
By the hillI spent a sperm to be born
As myself as helpless,
To grow into a tall buffoonery
Vain, vain are the waiting,
Silence and loudness
And the hugs and cuddles;
Vain, vain are the waiting,
Cruelty and roar,
And frowns and spasms of porn
Foaming in the lake
Swimming and dipping into ponds
Tasting the wetted flesh
I would satiate
As if a lion
With a live stag eaten;
Or a tiger roaring gratified
With lots of venison tasted.