Faqeer, Beggar

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Beneath the statue of the Old Beggar with a hundred lines sculpted on his face
I sat like art–waiting to be created,
I–who had written all the stories
Of the fires which had burned the town hall
Where the dancers would do the silent Waltz
And of the blind man–who saw everything and heard nothing
Of the women–who sang in chorus, of love which was not meant for them
Of children, who stopped playing because of the scars
Of the sculpted swan, with its ugly broken wing
I sat there like art, waiting to be drawn
I–who had heard the choir boys singing
While the Woman in the green dress had repressed a smile
And left the room–for she was torn
Because she had come from nowhere and had nowhere to go
And she slept in the dingy streets with torment under her sleeves
But I sat there like art–waiting to be designed
For once, long ago–I had lost my way in the ruined valleys-
With empty houses and unbothered streets
So beneath the statue on the Old Beggar with a hundred lines-
And an expression of solitude frozen on his face
I sat like art–waiting to be composed
For I knew all the stories, because I had written them all
Of you and me, and me and you
And I sat there like art–because
I knew of all the endings, right from the very start

Ripples and Gold

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So there were talking shadows on the silver edges
Of the cold blue pier
Where she sat and looked at her other self
Which talks of the misty air
Unfrozen birds and pink clouds
And lies–too much to bear
Would she rest her head on the rising tide
Or dance around without a care?
Ripples and gold, green skies and a pink canvas
Why did her smile disappear?
Sanctuaries of laughter,  disposable worlds and flash mobs of giddy people
Yet they all cried with blue tears
Ripples and gold–
She sat on the edge of the river, on a damp railing–at the pier.

Two Weary Travelers

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Two weary travelers, set out on a course
Through the damaged roads
And over the dried out sea
Through a vindictive sky
And over the ashy mountains
Two weary travelers…
One was red and the other, green
One wept in euphoria
The other laughed in dread
One had a silent bird sitting on top of their head
The other carried a stick made of lead
One told stories of wars on the moon
The other sang songs about heaven’s gloom
One wore their beating heart on their sleeve
The other displayed their dying soul on their ragged fleece
And on they went, to far off lands
Where no one was awake
And they would ring the bells and leave a trail
Where ever they rode
And on the sunlit tops of hills
There were whispering shadows
Which told of tales of happiness and only
Sadness followed
And one fine day the crows were dancing
When one of the travelers sat down
On a cold bench to never get up
And sat there looking at the sun set
And when the sun was drowned in the dark
The weary traveler had passed
Into the gory light
Now on the train that goes nowhere
One weary traveler sits
Alone with their mind hoping like a bird
Without any feathers
The traveler has now a box which contains a dead heart
Which they wear it on their sleeve to see if it ever would beat
And time will stop moving it’s hands
But the heart will never beat
And one weary traveler sits on the wing of a plane
And flies to the sun as it sets

Orange Canary

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There was a grey fire here last night
It burnt the roof of the city down
The orange canary sang in wilderness
The red dog wept in sadness
The purple cat hid in dismay
The people stared at the sea
That was an escape and this was the dream
The trees were ash and the house on the hill…
Turned rust
And the golden canary sang in its nest
They looked for me and I tried to hide
This was the story and it was a test
The whole city was burnt and there was smoke
People looked at the sky
For it was far and that was the cry

Bird in my Head

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I sit in a dark room thinking about darkness
I have a glass of blood in my hands
And a bird flies quietly in my head
I do not know why
I will sit here. For hours to come. And minutes and seconds
Thinking about darkness
All the light that I lost
And I cannot look around me
There is a bear which plays the flute
And I do not understand why
There is darkness around me
And I am the light.
And soon I’ll burn myself out
As I burnt my candle turning it into the wildfires
The ghosts play the piano
And I can not dance
But I do not know why
I can hear laughter and people talking
But it must be all in my head
Yet I do not know why

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It’s like the days are not even days any more.
Night isn’t night anymore.
I am not even who I was anymore.
The sky has turned into ash, it isn’t blue anymore
The moon is a black dot, it isn’t the moon anymore
The sea has turned into soot, it isn’t it anymore
The tree upon which I gazed outside
It is not standing there anymore…perhaps it travelled north or towards a dusty gloom
I don’t know anymore
There is so much dark now, I don’t want the light anymore
I loved someone once
I don’t love anymore

Hollow

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I was haunted by the hollow of my hand
What is in it. Why
I was disfigured by the death in my eyes
Who died. Why
I was shattered by the quivering of my soul
How did it happen. Why
I was looking at the curve of my lips
Which way did they go. Why
I sat with myself once
I danced with myself once
I dreamed within myself once
Who was I supposed to be. Why