Unforgiven in the diaspora (Vol. IV)

I stay away from mirrors when i cant recognise my face
I've had to erase, rewind, replace and redisign who i am in this place
Son of man or freedom fighter
they should have my portrait on a cigarette lighter
so the world will know how i burn

I will grow in turn, I must
i will show i learned to trust
then misinterprete the signals before me
i've made mistakes and i'm not sorry

I'm The Unforgiven

and to think some men call this living!
Sure, fill me up with ill-intending women
and never-ending booze
you snooze, you lose
but i choose to keep those inebriated hands away from my shirt
for beyond this fine embroidered cotton
is a world of endless hurt
that has no bottom

So why, then, do i stay in this city?
I wonder what happens to all this pity i feel for myself
look at me: still young and in good health
not drowning in wealth but i survive
how come i'm still wishing for that ticket, destination: Alive?
I mean, here's my passport, here's my name
here's my baggage and here's my shame
intials T.U., The Unforgiven
now let me into your land of the living

You know, Life, you can be a pain in the ass
you claim to be a teacher but you ignore your class
and you put me through shit, and you seem to enjoy it
i'll be honest, this limbo stage is getting real annoying
you think i'll give in? think i'll raise the white flag?
I can be a badass, too, the baddest you ever had
see i might be fatigued, scarred, misguided and still doing wrong
but take a good look, you sumamabitch, i'm still going strong.

Christmas Wish

I used to love fanta, man
used to share a bottle with my cousins waitin on the Santaman
but not the fat guy with the presents, red suit and a beard
i'm talking about having my whole family present and near
just pouring out of granny's house, kids spilling into the yard
i'm talking bout the kind of christmas you wont find in a hallmark card
the air filled with the aroma of food enough to feed a nation
boiling in humungous pots watched over by ladies full of jubilation
holding back children creating havoc and building a ravenous hunger
i'm talking about this spell of universal togetherness we seemed to be under
babies screaming, babies yelling, babies laughing and babies crying,
this spirit so beautiful it gave life back to men who were dying
men playing omuweeso and telling ancient jokes
i remember licking at the bottoms of empty fanta bottles and cokes
and starving and waiting and running around to try and forget
until someone yelled out, "Food is ready, come and get!"
and how we raced to fill our stomachs till we douldnt take no more
yet we went on eating till our tummies were sore
and endless relatives who seemed to invent themselves for that day
they came out in record numbers but no one got turned away
nobody cared who showed up, no one asked any questions
we came together for that one day and just handed out blessings
there was so much food, mountains of it in jajja's house
but even more than that, there was so much love flowing out
all was forgiven, old wounds were miraculously healed
like nothing could ruin that day, Christmas was like a shield
because it wasnt about the gifts or even the birth of Christ
it was family laughing together and everyone just being nice
just so much food, so much love, so much has changed since then
man, Christmas used to mean something, i remember back when-

-when the air was filled with that beautiful Christmas spirit
still somewhere inside me, every now and then i hear it
so my Christmas wish, dear Angel at the top of my tree
is that this year you could give my childhood Christmas back to me.

The Last Kiss

I'm so at fault

we laid down the rules
locked emotions up in a vault
and threw away the key
but love isnt taught in schools
it is a game for fools
and such a fool is me

we agreed "no strings"
i thought i could work passed this
and it was working
till i got tied up by that list kiss
fell into this madness!

what now?
am i simply to go?
let them know if they know
i cant walk away!
yet after that last kiss
i can not stay
not like this

we've played too long
its not a game if it leaves you sore
i'm so in the wrong
but after that last kiss, i want more

Song of my Indian Flute.

Look how exotically God mixed her spices
in no hurry, he blended curry and coriander leaves
with fresh Basmati rices and look what He achieved:
this insatiable flavour both savoury and sweet
honey marinated meat, tender and tingling to the lips
look how He mastered the sway of her hips
like hills and valleys for me to explore
but that wasnt His grande finale, oh no, there's more
you wont believe what magic her hands can do when they begin
it's like they're wrapped in silk
like God poured jugs full of coconut milk into her skin
cos her hugs wipe away every hurtful blemish and sin
and when she dances
she's got every warrior making bold advances
see when God made her, He gave her a smile to end wars
like a fountain of youth, it heals lost time and mends sores
her tears flow from a mountain of juice,
writing lemon flavoured poems across her cheek
so to hear her speak, i must confess, makes my knees weak
and when she stands before me in full bloom
i cant help thinking of a crystal moon
a real wonder, a miracle
there's no words to describe the spell i feel under
because her deepest beauty is spiritual
see, her masterpiece is her heart
you can tell this is where God chose to start
for all else about her is as resplendant and regal
she is indeed a living angel among people.

In case i dont get to play you my song
know that i love you as the day is long
and you would know this if you'd heard my unhindered lyrics
that boast of kindred spirits and eternal flames
our souls are one and the same
for when, by some infernal shame,
my own perished, your ghost lingered near it
and I became whole again
so in case you dont ever hear me play
know that my love is here to stay
today and everyday.


For my Queen Bee, Ishta N Kutesa and other names: You make me feel like dancing! You're an angel.

Channel Surfing in the diaspora (vol. III)

I hardly ever check the weather
but at least it brings us together
when it rains,
it's supposed to wash away our pains
forever rid us of our childhood stains;
it's time to grow.

All of a sudden
the great safari lands are flooding
Presidents shake hands then do nothing
no one understands;
it's time to grow.

Pharrell's got such tiny eyes
shake your ass, girl, sell their lies
why change the world when you can spread your thighs?
no stones are hurled at my glass house when i hypocriticise;
it's time to grow.

They say there'll be space travel soon
so while refugees starve,
we'll carve faces into gravel on the moon
don't say "refugees", they're people, if you please,
and F.U. "G"'s and F.U. too
no, God bless U2
and Bob, we miss you,
yes, Buffalo Soldier, we miss you
chip on my shoulder but no real issue
wish i was older;
it's time to grow.

It's time to switch off this world of fake pretend
there's no such thing as anonymity
when in close proximity of the end
you're the enemy when there is no friend
it's time, i know that times are strange,
it's time to grow, it's time for change.

Signal flares

Much like the seas, I'm stirred
i gave my word to be in love
to fall in love, I'd have preferred
that Cupid heard my prayers from above
and peeled back layers unrefined
lost in time are words I feel
i'm unreal and going blind
unwinding stairs of steel
that stole my signal flares
i still go there into that hole
though my soul be short of cares
i prepare to fill that role
that hill of coal and tears
where fears are lost into the night
frost gathers spite before it clears
at what cost do we hear the right?
so not tonight, i say goodbye
and try to stay at home
for there are but two ways to die
and i will not die alone.

Pink on brown skin*

You shouldnt bite your lip that way
knowing full well what it does to me
not if it has to be on a bus full of people
but hey, i'ma play your game today.

I make you my one single focus,
no city, no passengers, no bus
just you and your lips, no trouble, no fuss,
slide my hands down your hips, this is so us
always trying to be daring ,but we're too full of caring
to just let ourselves get lost in the moment
yet today feels different, today we own it
that power, that drive that brings things alive
you're my honey and i'm about to raid your hive

A kiss, a lip lock, keep it soft and tender
ow!..you see?! when you bite you become the offender
you're always starting things you think i wont finish
i'ma prove you wrong today, i'ma finally be the ender
you think you're dirty but I'm outright feeling sinnish
i dont care about our passive fans
right now I've got big massive plans
come here, come closer, i can feel your bliss
it's clear, it's over, we're actually doing this

Cant think straight when you've got me in your web
one whiff of your love scent and my senses just ebb
until they're vanished and all my thoughts are in Spanish
me gusto, muy caliente, mas, mas,- no we'll be banished
I mean, if we're caught...oh you should not...
see, now you've gone and pulled me across the line
you know when you nibble on my ear lobe i get lost in time
you're so hot right now, goddamn, you're such a flirt
you know what? fuck it... i venture beyond your skirt
i see you've felt it and now your whole look has turned
its no game anymore, i slip my hand to where you burn
no thoughts of being caught or getting embarassed
it's too hot right now, we're about to be sexually harrassed

and that didnt even rhyme but your breasts are real poetry
you pull me to your chest and you just wont let go of me
what sweet heaven it is to suckle at your works of art
so soft and warm and peaceful that i can feel your heart
and i can feel you start to heat up where it counts
you claw away at me as the pleasure slowly mounts
i riggle about trying to adjust myself to this heat
you are fully ripe and the fruit is sweet
you pound your hand against the bus like you're tapping out in wrestling
the sounds between the two of us foresee the trapping of the best thing
our eyes are locked so we dont see the shock of the bus riders
right now you simply have a need and I am the provider
the bus jumps over of a hump, driver pumps his brakes
with a gruntfilled thump, we bump away at our pleasure aches
you stare deep into my eyes as your lower lip starts to tremble
i see the wolf beneath your skies as the storm starts to assemble
the clouds have swiftly gathered and we can hear the distant thunder
you cling to me at the first drop, hold tight, my queen, we're going under
its troubling, you're bubbling like a wild untameable volcano
you want to hold your cries back but your lips simply cant say no
they say yes, yes, yes, yes, yes goddammmit, YES
the whole bus starts to shudder at our wet success
and when it pours, it floods, it flows, it rains
only i can tell that you're not crying out in pain
you're free, you're flying, its the song of your liberation
soar high above the sky, my angel, beyond the clouds of inspiration
your eyes are shut tight, this is your night, you are like a dream-

a dream, a dream? goddamit! this was all a dream
but it was so real, i could so feel everything that you mean
and everything that you think, i could feel your every desire
but here i sit alone on the bus, frustrated and much inspired
by thoughts of you and what i'll do and how I'll make you pop
and how i'll run my hands across-...oh damn, I've missed my stop!



*Title suggested by my Girlie Brown.

The Lorry Driver's wife

I stay

and let him worship at my temple
see sometimes love is not that simple
we take our chances and make mistakes
we sleep, we wake, we mend, we break
we take and take and hurt and stab
he's the only thing i ever had
that was mine alone and no one else's
so I'm staying because I'm just that selfish
and he's so helpless, he's just a child
you wake up one day no longer young or wild
or tough or happy or lucky or sad
he's mine, the only thing i ever had.

I stay

Dont roll your eyes at me that way
we play and lose or win or grow
i'd rather be in love than know
than know for sure he's breaking my heart
you learn your lines and play your part
or break the rules or make your own
he's much too young to be alone
he's just a child, he'll grow one day
i still love him and so I stay
and ignore the truth and all its harms
to neslte in the illusion of his arms
you dance your slows, you sing along
i love that bastard, he did me wrong.

I stay

cos there's no love left in the world
so if i leave, i'm no one's girl
you fight, you yell, you scream, you bite
but there's no hell as a lonely night
in a haunted house of empty rooms
I shut my mouth to evade that doom
he's just a child, i've seen him cry
he'll change someday, at least he'll try
you type, you write, you scribble on a pad
he's my life, the only one i ever had
and there are only two truths passed "i'm sorry"
you kill the engine or drive that lorry.

The Lorry Driver

She knows

Cant say for sure what gave me away
i get this uncontrollable twitch and start to fumble
just stumble through the day when wrought in confusion
the world i built her was just an illusion
whose walls have begun to crumble
now will she stay?

We didnt do this to each other
she's far more than just a lover
not just another sexy broad i met
she's one i wont forget
i do regret my young mistake
but wont she stay, for heaven's sake?

She knows

and the guilt inside me painfully grows
each time the dj plays our favourite slows
i see in her eyes, she knows
yet she still sways her body to my song
maybe she's known it all along
which maybe means that she might stay
how did we end up this way?

It's too late to say I'm sorry
the story wont speak in my favour
feels like I've been hit by a lorry
Heaven's, she's such a precious flavour
every time she rubs my chest
she was so good to me, really, the best
and now I've thrown that all away
what can i do to make her stay?

She knows

i know she knows and now its clear
Dear God! I've never known such fear
cos when she knows, she's gone for sure
not even Cupid's got this cure
how could i have been so damn possessed?
cos she was TOO good for me, i swear, the best
but i did this, i did the wrong
and she has known it all along.

Loved in the diaspora (Vol II)

I steal a kiss in the dead of the night
dont even wake you to tell you you're beautiful
just drag my weathered bones off at first light
to do my duty because you are dutiful.

And in the evening you'll wash my feet
and conjure up some miracle for me to eat
sweeter than the sweetest song
with which you soothe me all night long.

I watch the city fly by me at day break
growing weary with each further mile
clench my teeth at the muscles that may ache
yet find solace in the magic of your smile

For in the evening you'll cleanse my eyes
and wipe my torso, my legs and my thighs
you'll be sweet as the sweetest song
with which you soothe me all night long.

I drench my shirt in exhaustion and sweat
crushing blistering rocks, choking on sand
my thoughts travel so i can forget
travel to the sanctuary of your hand

In the evening you'll rub my back
comforting me with what the day lacked
then i will listen to your song
with which you soothe me all night long.

You wont ask how my day was spent
for i'll understand how your long day went
laying in each other, this is all we'll do:
whisper together of the world i build you.

In the evenings' the only time i'll truly live
savouring each moment with my sole friend
and right before i'm consumed in the care you give
there'll rise that unfriendly foe once again.

To your secret admirer.

I wanna be in love with you
I wanna fly away to a place where only lovers do the things that lovers do
sorry, but you excite me
mind if i sit...never mind... i'm sitting

look i wanna hold your hand and listen to your life story
and just fall in love with you every single morning
and every night and then again and again and just get lost in you
i wanna spare no cost with you
just lay it all out, lay bare my very soul
and i'm digging myself deeper and deeper into this hole

but i dont care cos i wanna be in love with you
you have no idea what not saying that has been putting me through
i'd choke on three short words because you'd steal my very breath
each time you laughed at my jokes you brought me close to death
cos i couldnt sing the lyrics my heart was singing
you dont know how hard it is to think what i'm thinking
to let myself believe you could love me
i'd self destruct if i thought you would hug me
and miss me and wish you'd said these very words i'm saying
and i no longer know what i'm saying but i'm staying

cos i wanna be in love with you
and maybe someday get the chance
to play my Lover's Only CD and do the sacred dance
where we fuse ourselves into one existance
i press play and you abandon resistance
you nibble, i squeeze, a moan, oooh i love this track
trace my hands across your body till i've learned every arc of your back
and every secret that lies betwen your thighs
someone lets go, someone sighs
as we rock back and forth the uncontollable waves
mounting pleasure, mounting, mounting till it caves
drowning us in ecstatic juices on the jungle floor
i'm getting carried away but i dont care anymore


i just wanna be in love with you
and thats all i wanted to say
i'm feeling much less brave about this now
but it'd be great if you also felt that way.

Troubled in the Diaspora (Vol. I)

Greetings, Ancestors
welcome back to my haunted house;
I thought you had abandoned me for hope.
5+3= America.
There's no tea in my government sugar;
how can i host you, Ancestors,
when the bills I've paid
I've "paid" with borrowed credit on loan?
What was the rhythm of our traditional beat?
I forgot how to shuffle my feet
when I started wearing shoes that were made
for someone with a car.
Am I still your son, Oh Ancestors,
even though I take the metro to night school?
Chicken soup with grilled mushrooms.
Oh Ancestors, I am lost without you...
but I am the one who left,
I'm the one who walked out
and left to build my own

Dreams

that's all they were.

Then Captain Planet kicked Superman's ass
and i began to lose my mind.

The Revolution.

The Revolution was, in fact, televised,
feverishly anticipated and much publicised,
TV land broadcast the birth of a nation
but audiences rushed to switch the station.

Police batons cracked right through civil rights,
we ushered in change with mass choas and mob fights,
all the while being projected onto the TV screen,
it was the greatest show that was, sadly, never seen.

The revolution was, in fact, televised,
widely gossiped about and severely scrutinised
for its free thought, weed smoke, hard rock and funk
and, in the end, the ratings stunk.

We had eyecatching banners and protest signs,
camera crews descended upon us to capture the times,
but the viewers at home would prove less than thankful;
it wasnt long before the new ideas were cancelled.

The Revolution was, in fact, televised
with million man marches pre-scheduled and synchronised,
we had iconic artists fine tune its theme song
yet, somehow, we all still got it wrong.

It gave us Jimi Hendrix, Brother Malcolm and Dr King,
we praised their contributions but then recanted everything,
the Revolution was, in fact, televised, sisters and brothers;
we may have forgotten that it happened, but there will come another.

This was obviously inspired by Gil Scott Heron's timeless anthem, "The Revolution will not be televised" which you can check out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTCQSk2l8bc

The Baptism.

Weep, child
in time your tears will flood the earth
leaving dashed hopes and faded memories
lost, themselves, amongst waves of regret.

Young dreams may survive the storm,
older souls will be reborn
until all the hurt has been restored.

Fortify your disillusioned expectations,
learn once more to believe in mirages;
yesterday is ours to lose, not to forget.

And when your weeping soaks the planet,
when the salt from your tears turns to ash,
a new sun will rise from the embers;
You shall be the light.

Weep, child
in time your pain will drown the earth
taking with it, to the bottom of the ocean,
harkenings of your childhood monsters.

Masts and sails and ships, Ahoy!
eternity, bless my baby boy.

Pride (of the Pencil Pushing Prophet)

There! I finally did what they dared me to
Half of me is still shaking in utter disbelief
And the other half is in some sorry state of denial
Things like this never bring relief.

Walked right into his office and said-
And i didnt even bother to knock-
Said, "Listen up, Mr. King Boss Master,
No more of this elitist nonsense;
Things are going to change, buddy!"

At this point, the weasel was shifting uneasily,
Working out his fast decreasing options,
King Boss Master was facing an uprising
Well beyond what company policy had outlined;
"After today," I continued, lost in a momentary high,
"Relations between us are going to improve,
Despite what your pay check says, guy!"

And sadly, that was it; i walked out of there
Thinking i had struck a blow for the little man.

Actually, i later reflected, no point was made,
Little sense flowed out of my lips into his head;
Left there in a haste to start scanning the classifieds.

The saddest music.

She said her name was Angel
and it wasnt hard to believe
for when she played the saddest music
the heavens gave her audience.

They'd write poems about her voice
yet she chose to sing to me
and when she played the saddest music
the whole world stopped to listen.

Her falling tears created percussion
only angels cried such miracles
cos when she played the saddest music
the oceans fell silent to hear it.

No one ever knew her lyrics
though she sang them every night
but when she played the saddest music
time paused to pay her attention.

If I could hear her song once more
then maybe I could unlearn it
Oh! how she played the saddest music
the sound of a heart as it breaks.

Malehood.

You leave for school
where you learn the first rule
gotta show them you're a fighter
so you learn to bully and order boys
then you graduate, jeans pulled tighter
trade those in for khaki pants and courdoroys
and polished dress shoes, and far much less booze
you find you've actually grown fed up of the club scene
cant dance thinking of bills, so you switch to the pub screen
to watch Premiership football instead of girls shaking their asses
grinding out chain smoked cigarrettes and pondering over their ashes
more frequent Catholic masses to replace spending time with your vanishing friends
you realise you've watched every movie and you always seem to know how it ends
so you take on existentialism and wonder who's been backseat driving your life
you barely recognise your wife who you only notice when you dont have sex
switch from Ray Ban Shades to those dull yet distinguished specs
your body's not exactly what it used to be anymore
any sport activity leaves you writhing on the floor
next thing you know, gotta use a walking cane
until all you know is the ever-increasing pain
forgetting the things you thought you knew
but when did life forget about you?

Moonwalking on Mars.

Darker sister
Of the night,
Nearly close enough
To see my light,
Give me company,
End my sorrow;
Take me to a brighter tomorrow,
Lay with me
Out of time and place,
Very soon
Every star will light up
Your face;
Darker sister
Of the secret pain,
Vacate this joyless planet;
Escape with me to where only
Yesterday's joys remain.

Prayer (of the pencil-pushing prophet)

Black Tea
in the fractured corporate mug
what are you so smug about?
So brave without the slightest clue
as to who you truly are
or of what's in the stars.

Black Free
where the banished warriors roam loose
whose juice is the blood of rocks
without locks or chains on their feet
dance to the beat of time and history
whose memory is an ancient mystery.

Black Tree
regrettably uprooted from my past
too fast a signal of the end
my dying friend who's lost his shade
so now i wade alone through the dark
searching for Noah's lost Ark.

Black Dream
that never gave me a chance
no thanks for all that i've become
I'm done with everything I'm not
we both forgot how to love each other
awake, i have no brother.

Black Sea
that keeps forever the men it swallows
hidden in the shallows left unfound
beneath a mound of invisible sand
where the hopes of men have sunk
you wont hear me for I am drunk.

Provocation (of the pencil-pushing prophet.)

Get yours, get even. -Who said that? Are you in my mind?
Relax, dont have a heart attack, everything will be fine;
for now you can just think of me as a friend,
I'm here to make sure that you get your revenge.

-Get what? Are you crazy? I LOVE my job!
I haven't yet said a thing about work; that's odd,
that you think of your job and think of vengeance
but dont worry, i'm here to win back your independence.

But wait; I cant! I have a wife and kids and a car,
dont you think vengeance is going a little too far?
A family? A cheating wife and kids that call you a loser?
A family you're so ashamed to face that you've become a boozer?

A boss that literally spits in your face
-Not everyday. -Aren't you sick of this place?
This claustrophobic 4 metres by 4 cell,
this cubicle that was designed by my minions in hell?

How I hate it! -You hate it. -How i hate these walls!
Just wanna burn 'em. -Then burn 'em. -Burn every one of these stalls!
I wanna kick my pig-faced superior in his gutless balls
and run his face through the copier and have him take MY calls!

I wanna do all the things I wanna do before I'm dead,
hey pal, hey friend, are you still in my head?
Thanks for giving me the guts to fight these heathens and chores,
I wont take it anymore! -That's right; get even, get yours.

Plight (of the pencil-pushing prophet.)

One more morning for the mundane master
how did your life become such a boring disaster?
it's all proof read, edit, return to sender
you coulda been somebody, coulda been a contender
it's all rows, columns, figures and microsoft word
life forgot about you, or hadnt you heard?
it's all select, copy, paste, double click, repeat
children could have thrown fresh roses at your feet
it's all cubicles, screen savers and water coolers
some men are born slaves and others, to be rulers
it's all small talk, gossip, flat jokes and stale breath
you think anyone will mourn your death?

It's everything you hoped you would never become
it's the soulless survival to which you succumb
it's the small checks that sidestep you into the taxman's pocket
it's the plight of the pencil pushing prophet.

Trapped in hypothetical nostalgia

Trapped in hypothetical nostalgia,
I get no rest. Is it self induced,
this hypochondriacal cardialgia
stray memories of you have produced?
Haunted right down to my dubious core
by your disarming, incessant laughter
that heals me of each self-inflicted sore.
Banished to an imagined hereafter,
caught in a bliss that never did exist;
yet i can not long for liberation
for the mind is moot should the heart resist;
you're the price of my self-revelation.

A discarded man of baseless morals
dreaming sparkling diamonds out of corals.




You almost always know after you've met someone that they are not "the one". Sometimes you settle for them because you're tired of looking, alotta people are brave enough to keep searching and get lucky. I wrote this for the only person I ever met and let pass me by that I am still not sure about.

The myth

Look at the sheer size of my hand
you see where I'm going with this
forget the parts of me you dont understand
I am built like a pumped up fist.

I'm Johnny Love-god-sex-machine
the ladies call me J.L. Sweet
cos I knock them right off their feet
and onto their backside
for that last ride
to pleasure paradise.

Walls crumble when we tumble
they call it disturbing the peace
for anyone that may doubt me in the least
one glance at my pedigree and all doubts cease.

I'm Johnny Love-god-sex-machine
the ladies call me J.L. Quiver
cos I make them shiver
in places they didnt know they had sensations
I am discovering and conquering entire nations.

They've tried and tried to dispell the myth
i exist in flesh and bone
I make them moan and groan
as we align our chakras all night long.

I'm Johnny Love-god-sex-machine
the ladies call me J.L. Butter
I make them stutter
like their mamas didnt teach them to speak
they break into tongues as they hit their peak
I'm the Love-god, the sex machine, the super freak.

The Arsonist

Careful, Massa, you push real hard,
why you treat me like I is retard?
I work good, Massa, I pick your cotton,
I no sing sad songs, I be forgotten.

Each time, Massa, each time you push,
I hear the voice of the burning bush,
but I no say nothing, I pick your cotton,
I no sing sad songs, I go rotten.

The voice, He hear me cryin' out,
He ask me what I cry about,
I no have rest, I pick your cotton,
I no sing sad songs, I hit the bottom.

The voice, He tell me be prepared,
the night is falling, I no be scared,
He tell me now sing what I desire,
wake up, Massa, your cotton catch fire.

The face of transition.

Take note that when i look at you
all I see are broken dreams,
tattered remnants of the hell you put me through,
with split ends and open seams.

Your bitterness has left you deformed,
I get sick just being in your presence,
like all the self-pity within me is reborn
along with everything else unpleasant.

What happened to who you hoped to be?
I dont believe you were always this impaired;
I get nauseous knowing that you're close to me,
thinking of the past we shared.

In fact, I think you're the devil
envelopping all around you in tragedy,
my hatred has never reached this level;
I wonder what relationship you ever had with me.

It disgusts me for us to occupy the same space
and I would heave if you got any nearer;
Oh! how I've come to truly despise your face
yet I can't look away from this mirror.


*So, a little dose of self deprecation. In truth, this heat made me feel really crappy and it distorted my reflection in the mirror summoning the memory of one of my favourite passages that i found when i googled "the saddest poem in the world.":

"I, Lais,
dedicate this mirror to Aphrodite.
For it will not show me as I was,
and I will not look upon myself as I am."
-Plato.

Merci, Zizou.

We will never be here again
time is no longer your friend
from here on out, we see things through
victory depends on you
So play with all you've got
this is your one and only shot
in 4 years you'll have gone rotten
life's too short to die forgotten.

Here is where men become kings
so forget about everything
you and the ball are perfect
show them one last time you're worth it
Show them Zizou is the champ
no more room for aches or cramps
in 4 years you'll have gone rotten
life's too short to die forgotten.

Let go of your numbing fears
give them blood and sweat and tears
let glory carry you unto the skies
the legend is born, the hero dies
Make their women throw you bizous
the only name they'll chant is Zizou's
in 4 years you'll have gone rotten
life's too short to die forgotten.

No one knows what history remembers
will you burn away and be lost to the embers
or will your name last an eternity
through this game of universal fraternity
They will say Zizou blessed this sport
this is my love, my thanks and support
for all the dreams that you've begotten
gone, retired but never forgotten.

Coat of Ash

He finds the silly old photograph in the fire place,
lost and buried in painful ashes;
something about the coat in the picture-
what is it that he can't understand?

He catches a glimpse of who he was
and starts to recognise
familiarity in the eyes
but he can not trust what he sees.

All he believes is the coat.

He can not take his eyes off it,
this old friend from another life;
the ivory buttons, the suede leather,
his history starts to come together.

Why does this strange coat warm his heart
with emotion that is no stranger?
A warmth that spreads across his existance,
melting away chains of conditioning
until he can not hold back any longer-

he lets himself remember.

This used to be his drinking coat,
then too-short blanket, then sinking float;
this very same coat that he wears today,
in ghostly tatters, weathered away.

Together, they've lived through each incarnation
if only so he should never forget this incantation:

Simply to give a man his coat back
does not rid him of his pains
for no matter how empty the coat rack,
the man inside forever remains.


A more fitting tribute to the late great Mr. Levi.

Tribute to Primo Levi's "If this is a man"

Consider if this is a man
who can not remember his home,
he works and sleeps,
he exists.
He is a cart-horse, this man,
who never questions a task;
the man has only one face
and he is ashamed to recognise it.

Tell me that this is a man,
with stolen scraps for shoes,
whose heart is warmed by cold porridge,
he breathes.
He has no shadow, this man,
they have taken everything from him;
his body can not understand fatigue
even as it breaks apart.

It is a sad and painful thing to look at this man
knowing he once held his freedom in his hands.


I just read "If this is a man" by Primo Levi, a great and absorbing book about the mass dehumanisation of Jews in Auschwitz and the incredible survival of a few unbreakable spirits. Surprisingly, it doesnt bash the nazis as you'd expect it to.

My wedding vows

I thought i wouldn't know what to say
infront of everyone on this stressful day;
but no stress, no fear or angst, no doubt:
you're simply all i cant live without.

Damn! ...you look insanely fine,
every inch of you is some unique design,
i just wanna have you, right here, in front of all the guests,
grab that sweet ass and bury my head in your -

Oops; i'm sorry, i'd even begun to drool;
i warned you that you'd be marrying a fool,
but the luckiest fool on the entire planet,
let's hurry this up so we can get down on it!

For serious, girl, you are lookin' all kinds of tight
and i promise i'm a represent at least twice a night,
cos i've hit the jackpot without ever spendin a buck;
for real, let's slip outta here, go out back and just-

I can't believe i amlost said that in front of the priest,
let me wind up by saying, last but not least,
that i know i act crazy but this is my wedding vow:
I wasn't ready for love before you but i'm a prove i'm ready now.


This is for my girl that's getting married in July. Cant believe it, Bella, but i'm incredibly happy for you. And insanely jealous! Thanx for not doing it in Vegas. Mad monkey love.

Tribute to Hugh Mearn's classic.

These 2 are mine:

"He lost himself inside my head,
amongst dreams i could not follow,
the inner child i thought was dead;
hope to see him tomorrow. "

and you know this one has happened to you:

"Flushed away to another world,
drowning in the toilet swirl,
words of wisdom i should have known:
miss the call or lose the phone!"

Okay, here is the Hugh Mearn's classic that inspired it all ( for me, at least):

"As i was walking up the stair,
i met a man who wasn't there,
he wasn't there again today,
i wish, i wish he'd go away."

The last known photo of Gavrilo Princip.

I'm sick of digging their roads and ditches,
today i'll show those sons of bitches,
i'll put their callous tyranny to sleep;
all of Europe's going to weep.

At last there's a fire in my heart
though the rest of me should fall apart,
i'll know my death has left a stain;
Petar, forgive me for the pain.

Marija, i'll be the last child you forget,
this young Bosniak is far too upset
to spend another day coughing blood;
Europe's tears will cause a flood.

My hand has turned the darkest black ;
watch me pull off my sneak attack,
watch me slip right under their fat noses,
i'll bury them in their wine and roses.

Seventeen years of this disease,
today i'll bring Europe to it's knees,
two shots for all their future sins;
this is where the war begins.

So, quick! take your silly photograph,
they'll look back on it but they wont laugh,
they'll know my face and recall my name;
Europe will never again be the same.


Special Thanks to Iwaya who's insightful blog brought Gavrilo's story to my attention with this post: http://madandcrazy.blogspot.com/2006/05/gavrilo.html

Devotion.

Its not easy to be such a mess,
a neverending work in progress;
there are days i'm so close to deflating
but somehow i end up just waiting.

I'm so far off the track it's funny,
but life cant be just about the money,
so much time i spend debating
that somehow i end up just waiting.

Why can't i just be one of the pack,
and just unleash my daddy mack?
i really should be out there mating
but somehow i end up just waiting.

Even when all the elements are aligned,
when any other man would jump in blind,
when their arms are more than accomdating,
somehow i end up just waiting.

There's so much more that i can be;
gotta rid myself of this debris,
cos it's for you i'm self-creating
so somehow i end up just waiting.

I sometimes wish i could believe
that contentment was all i would achieve,
that you're not even worth contemplating
but somehow i end up just waiting.

I don't know how i know i'm right
why i fight temptation with all my might
cos at times it gets real frustrating, true,
but i know you're out there, just waiting too.

paranoia

No one would ever question the facts,
the events were deemed "best forgotten",
for they were such heartbreaking acts
to befall that young couple, newly betrothen.

Twas the landlord's son who made the find
while investigating an odour from their room
2 young bodies morbidly entwined
their apartment had become their tomb.

A suicide note was found without hassle
clutched firmly in the dead grip of her hand:
"Every man wants to believe he's king of his castle
and every woman, the most beautiful in the land."

"Kiss in the dark"

You bring out the animal in me
like a raging rhino stung by a bee
like a pack of dogs that piss when they bark,
so how about a kiss in the dark?

You love to play this silly game,
with you it's always been the same:
a moment of romantic bliss and a spark,
so why not a kiss in the dark?

I wanted you by the sycamore
and then again on the kitchen floor,
you laughed and did that and this in the start,
but what's a kiss in the dark?

Do we really need the moonlit walk?
Let's just ignore the pulpit talk;
we've already shared a pack of chips in the park
so where's the kiss in the dark?

She'll never be privy to this information,
not from any strung out conversation,
not from some oddly amiss remark,
so what's a kiss in the dark?

The truth is i'm just talking big,
deep down you know i'm just a kid;
I'd probably fumble and miss in the dark
but it'd still be a kiss to the heart.

The Insomniac (Family Unit, Voice 3).

I glance over at your side of the bed:
empty,... you're still not here;
a collision of thoughts run through my head,
not the least of which is blinding fear.

I'm just not ready to be a dad,
how can you want me as i am?
Forget the good times that we had;
i'm too young and selfish to give a damn!

We can't make the huge mistake
of bringing a child into this life;
i lie in our bed, wide awake,
and, for a second, picture you as my wife.

No! this is not who i'm meant to be!
i'm a one man island, bloody Ibiza!
i've got the passport to all i want to see
now you're trying to revoke my visa.

A bottle of pills couldnt bring me rest,
not when i know i've done the things i did;
it's clear now but who'd have guessed
that deep down, i'm still just a kid?

I wish i'd said something to put you at ease,
this must be a lonely hell for you,
instead i acted like you'd caught some disease;
i just didnt know what to do.

Maybe we could somehow make this work
if it's not too late to set things straight;
i wish i hadnt been such a jerk,
all i can do now is lie here and wait.

I trace the line where you'd place your head,
say my prayers and hope for sleep;
glancing at your empty side of the bed,
i lie awake all night, counting sheep.

The Confessor (Family Unit, Voice 2).

She arrives worn out by the news
and stumbles weakly into the booth;
she'll have to put up with all their views
and find sanctuary in knowing the truth.

There is no priest to hear her confession
and it feels like this could be her last,
clearing her conscience has turned to obsession
but she's felt this way in the past.

The stained glass windows reflect no light,
only the fading glow of a single candle,
casting playful shadows against the night,
stirring fears she can barely handle.

She falls to her knees in vigorous prayer
warding off the hollow disillusion,
the guilt grows inside her, too much to bear
she loses herself in childhood delusion.

One memory plays after another,
she blocks it out but the visions persist:
the repeated image of her childless mother,
she passes out and begins to un-exist.

She's lost in a far and timeless place
where the homeless souls find retreat;
it's a truth she can choose to deny or embrace
as she draws closer to self-defeat.

But she's often struggled with her belief
and knows to hold back her death rattle;
she recovers with a calm and numbing relief:
one more day, one more battle.

*Greatly inspired by a discussion with my Skater Girl.-*

The Philanthropist (Family Unit, Voice 1).

Offer me a place to hide,
let me be your wounded pride,
make my bad dreams go away;
awkward hugs are here to stay.

Raise me into your regret,
label me your unpaid debt,
hold me through my restless night,
let your comfort be my light.

Take me as i am, father,
you're the one that has to bother,
i didn't ask to be your understanding,
ofcourse i'm going to be demanding.

Yes, i expect for you to give
more than just enough for me to live,
it's gonna take some sacrifice,
but passion's got to bear a price.

So lay the world right at my feet,
responsibility, you can not cheat;
let me into your circle of trust,
love me, daddy, because you must.

The drunk goodbye.

I'm off to Las Vegas and it's for good,
been playing the stakes higher than i should,
I gambled my shadow right where i stood,
woulda tried abit harder if i thought i could.

I'm headed to Vegas but before i leave,
i want your name to be the last breath i breathe:
i'm gonna win it all back, babe, cos i believe;
let that reassurance to you be the last i deceive.

I'm going to Las Vegas and i wont be back.
Whatever the stakes, never fold your right to be black;
i leave you all my chips though it's no big stack:
my life silently switched to the side B track.

I'm on my way to Vegas cos it's in my stars,
whatever you do, dont let them see your cards,
dont lose yourself to loose women in loose bars;
I'm 'a win it back, babe: our house, our love, our cars.

It's off to Las Vegas and then it's done,
you're the only jackpot i ever won,
but i lost this race even before it begun;
gonna win it all back, babe, gonna be number one.

I'm leaving for Vegas but first i'll say:
just ignore Frank, don't do things my way,
don't hitchhike your way through life on the highway;
take care of yourself, i love ya, goodbye babe.

Inimitable.

Every dream has been sold,
every story has been told,
every question has been raised,
every art piece has been appraised.

Every song has been written,
every lover has been smitten,
every symphony has been played,
every comment has been made.

Every portrait has been painted,
every image has been tainted,
every invention has been concieved,
every lie has been believed.

Every battle has been fought,
every lesson has been taught,
every theory has been tried,
every tear has been cried.

Every danger has been warned,
every tragedy has been mourned,
every faith has been exposed,
every doorway has been closed.

And everything i've said has been proved untrue,
but never has there been a beauty like you.

My song.

Don't ask me about litote and elision,
my writing ne'er was anyone else's decision,
i can't use metaphors to describe everything:
love is music and i want to sing.

The endless use of hyperbole would fail
for i'm weaving the greatest, most magical tale,
and though my ballads may have a burlesque ring,
love is music and i want to sing.

Loosely lacing my lyrics with alltieration
would be like leaving the house with no destination;
what simple joy a simile can bring,
love is music and i want to sing.

But you can't write a song as a blank verse
and to misuse enjambment would be worse
than choosing epic over melody to be king;
love is music and i want to sing.

So i ignore structure and throw out the rules,
that kind of systematic writing is for fools;
i'm gonna belt this melody out in full swing:
i'm in love, now hear me sing!

The Blame Game.

Bite me till i bleed,
you'll still be my special need,
but i'm vexed;
how will our love fail us next?

You see everything i'm not
and dwell in a past we both forgot,
it's tiring;
lately you're just not inspiring.

Only you could make me smile,
now i find you've changed your style,
your fashion;
we say we're in love but where's the passion?

Remember how it used to be?
Dont you remember you and me?
We tried;
we said it could work but we lied.

This was doomed right from the start,
there was never room for me in your heart,
i'm exhausted;
we might have had love but we lost it.

The limbo of a breakup.

They sit infront of me on the bus,
she kisses him and gives him a hug;
I sit there watching them, thinking of us,
nostalgia kicks in like a drug.

I feel your lips press down against mine
and run my hands through your honey-scented hair,
the world goes silent for that moment in time,
I can feel you just like you were there.

You whisper something into my ear,
a sweet nothing saying all that it should;
I cant understand how much i wish you were here,
I'd unbreak your heart if i could.

I'd unravel history and take back that night,
would change it all if love was that strong;
I could be mistaken when i say you were right,
but i miss you enough to be wrong.

I watch them spiritually devour each other;
how quickly it all comes apart,
the blame mis-placed on the loved or the lover
when love, itself, breaks the heart.

I dont understand how you get on so well,
how you never stop and cry in the rain,
and scream, rip your hair out and curse me to hell
and just feel like you'd die from the pain.

I hate you right now and probably forever
and i hope that you're hating me too,
that you're hurt and angry cos we're not together,
how i want so much for this to be true.

Its clear to me now, what i'm supposed to do,
i've gotta work through this on my own,
i have to not miss being up close to you,
i need to want to be alone.

And its amidst my angst, buried in confusion,
that i'm struck by the emptiness of this bus;
seems the madness engulfed me and formed an illusion
for there's no one here, especially not us.