Poetry
How I yelled at God \\ Lyrics of thoughts
/How I yelled at God/
I saw a bird twirls towards me
"looks like a bat" No! "it's an hawk"
I only heard the resounding flaps
of its wings.
It sang in such an indecipherable language,
Language no one understands but I.
What a bird!
"Boy! Kneel & say a few prayers"
authoritatively it sang.
As Muslims revolve the holy 'kaã'bah'
& with silky looks and remorseful hearts
hold its shield firmly.
& Christians confess their dooms in presence
of 'Holy Mary'
I closed my eyes, knelt down & spoke.
Holy bird from the most high!
Tell father when you reach home, tell him
that this small boy has written tons of
words of hatred to himself,
word he'd ne'er say to his enemies.
Tell him this small boy here will end it all
if HIS interference takes too long
//Lyrics Of Thoughts//
Brethren, I've vacated this home of chaos you'd call life/friends shouldn't pat me on the back & enemies should save the stress of splitting o'er my innocent body/ Brethren, it's my soul that did the wrongs and rights/ see it disappearing into the sky, return your retinas and see my soul vanishing into thin air/
It hasn't been raining, my grave would be tiring to dig & my body would be heavy to lift/ handle me with care brethren, I know I stink/
Brethren, I didn't die, this is just a technical divorce between my soul & body/ they say poets don't die, and if I do/ my poems are everywhere, even in the everlasting book of life/ I'm not dead, let no one sing dirges/check beneath my lines, rhymed & unrhymed/ I am always there/
Brethren, I did not die as a coward/ not as an aimless passerby avoiding heavily downpour/ not as a snail that hides its head inward its shell/ Brethren! I died as a failed captain/ as a betrayed warlord/ as a sniper that ran out of bullets/ the attack was not prepared for if not impromptu/ I wasn't ready for a fight/ they said life to be a warfront & I fought/might not be to the end, but I fought/