Each Day I Lie To You

My love for you lays hidden
Reared by Stereotype and Misconception
Asleep on IIgnorance’s sweet bosom
Hatred’s favourite son

My love for you lays hidden
Atop of towering castles
Built proudly by my Forefathers
Kept shielded from your foreign eyes

My love for you lays hidden
Sheltered by my place of worship
Guarded by my native tongue

My love for you lays hidden
In the company of Class and Social Norms
‘You will never be like us’

My love for you lays hidden
Caged by flesh and bone
Wrapped neatly in my distinctive tone

My love for you lays hidden
Set it free
Set it free
Open my heart and let it bleed on yours

I am no slave

I am not your servant.
I am a child of the Most High;
Praying for you day and night.

I am no prisoner.
Nor am I your slave;
What keeps me from being free?

You keep track of my flaws.
Then you betray my trust;
Have you lost your soul?

You complain about my presence.
Yet, you worry about my plans;
Refer to your own venomous tongue.

Helping hand

Nadia was a young woman who used to sell vetkooks in a local train station. Early twenties,lightskinned,dark circles around her eyes and petite. Everyday i passed her when i went to school i used to wonder why she is not at school. I always wanted to stop, greet and have a decent conversation with her but the vetkook business was busy and she always looked so tired for casual chit chats. During seasons changes, from the freezing winter mornings to windy August mornings, she was always there. One morning she had a companion. A man. The man i have see before. He used to go around the hood asking for money,food,a homeless man. That morning he was bathed and clean. Nadia took him home the previous day and nursed him. People kept asking Nadia how she did it. She replied ”All i did was to ask. I asked to help him and he said yes. Helping me this morning is his way of showing how thankfull he is”. That response almost broke my heart. Help. All along i believed she was the one who needed help and yet she helped someone. No matter what hardship she went through she understood that someone out there needed a hand to pick them up. That somehow she had something that others did not have and that gave her an upper helping hand. I wanted to hold her hand and say God Bless You but as usual she was surrounded by a crowd of her loyal customers. When she lifted her head i shouted the three words-Go Bless You and she gave a faint smile nodding a simple thank you. I always wanted to talk to her but that morning i felt like i got all the answers i ever had. A glance at my watch i realised i was getting late for my first class. I ran to school.

Lone Rock

Once a lone big rock
Surrounded by ordinary trees
Sitting in a far corner of the forest…
Lone rock that none cared for
Nature forced its wrath on it
Its’ worth never noticed
The sun rays burned it
Lighting strike and broke it
Rains damaged its smooth surface
The winds and all forces did their share
Lone rock that none cared for
Footpaths circled far away
Neither animal nor human saw its use
Day and night it remained
Didn’t have the power to move
Fires broke out around it
Birds waste paint its surface
But one out of million notice it
Saw the worth in it
Embraced its beauty
Lone rock that none cared for
Transformed by nature
Its rough edges, cracks and bird waste
Turning it into a masterpiece
Lone rock that none cared for
One man saw and appreciates
Took pictures that went viral
Soon they all talked about it
Lone rock, now camped in and guarded
With stardom and splendor
Becoming a wonder of the world
It’s beauty crafted by nature’s forces
Crafted beauty admired by many
Talked about by plenty
Lone rock, the wonder of the world
Mold to perfection by imperfection
Formed to be a great treasure piece
Trails created close to it
People visiting it every hour
Lone rock by default or design
God’s wonder over time

Music Tree

Wait for me he said
The journey is far and wide
The road difficult
But wait for me
I will search and bring it back

The music tree, yes I say
I will wait
How I know not
Of this I never did hear
Is it green I wonder or a box

Surely I will come he said
It will be heavy and tiresome
I’ll carry the load
To make you comfortable
Just you wait, I will bring

Sweet music it will make
I wonder how
But I know you
A music tree I know not
And I agree
You will come

My tree I’ll have
Beautiful it will sound
So I wait
Years may go by
The journey is far and wide
I know you’ll come

A Sanguine Melancholy

Bound by mortal chains
Left cold to the touch by Life’s fleeting ways

Like phantom lost from Lover’s heart
Condemned to memory of days gone past

A sea of consciousness, an ocean of thoughts
These stars shine dull on Earth’s darkened soil

Like slaves sat at wooden prisons
Coerced to pay for Mother’s gifts

Three eyed but dormant, marooned in their comforts
Stirred only by their binocular vision

Does he not see that he is friend and that he is foe
Does he not know that the lioness weeps as she hunts the gazelle

Oh Son of Man
Dance to Fate’s beating drum

For I have become accustomed
To this lonely conversation

Without Death’s Certainty

Without Death’s certainty, my Love,
I would neither mourn, nor cherish you
You would be resigned
To an old page in my story

Without Death’s certainty, my Love,
I would neither wake, nor stir
The birds’ song would grow dull,
As I lay through Summer and Spring

Without Death’s certainty, my Love,
I would neither laugh, nor cry, nor smile
Lost only in perpetual thought,
Eternal Youth etched upon my face

Without Death’s certainty, my Love,
I would fashion fables
Tales of Father & Son
Sinners and saints

Doomed to forget,
My inevitable return

Memoirs of a Dog

I recall how willing I was to reclaim our territory. Full of vigor and youth, we would venture at least thrice per moon cycle to realms beyond our own. By paw or by machine, we journeyed along the blackened paths, navigating our way through uncharted lands. One of our favourite prospects was known as the Land of The Dozens. It was a lush field of grassland complimented by sloping mounds and scattered foliage. A vast expanse of land which required a vantage point in order to scope the entire arena. Many artificial lookout posts had been erected and were utilized by their young. They would scurry and climb, slide and swing, quickly learning the essential rules of play. Upon entering the Land of The Dozens, one would be greeted by hordes of enemies. Often I would see the familiar mug, and a new face from time to time, but all with the same look in their eye, that same sheer desire to lay claim to that land as their own. But none before had been able to establish a settlement within the hallowed grounds, so each cycle bore opportunity. The atmosphere within the picketed walls would teem with unrest, culminating in a tension so electric, it was palpable. In my impudence, I would rush onto the battlefield, bellowing the ancient call of my kind, paying homage to the most primordial of games! We were on the hunt!

As a wee whelp, my mother would tell my siblings and I stories of how our relationship with the Bipedal Ones came to be. Tales told by our elders of how our ancestors domesticated them. For the ancestors were fascinated by how these hairless creatures lacked any significant natural weaponry, yet fashioned artificial claws and teeth in order to compensate. We taught them how to bring our young eats and drink, and in return we aided them with protection from predators and lent them our keen sense of smell when tracking prey. It was theorized that since they lack any true proboscis, they are reliant solely on their eyesight and opposable thumbs, yet they were a proud warrior race. A formidable partnership had been born and as its success grew, we moved into their settlements and shared migration patterns. But not all of our ancestors left their wild ways; many stayed and procreated, and to this day, inhabit immense outcrops of territory in lands far away. Their progeny are our cousins, the Wolvian kind. My descendants were farmers in the hills of western-central Europe, shepherds by trade. My great, great, great, great, great, great, great uncle told his family of how he had had a brief conversion with an old wolf whom had told him that the Bipedals were not only slaughtering one another but also the local population of wolves as well. They had betrayed the scared oath. But these are lore of old, now the Bipedals seem too amused by distractions and our kind made too soft by their comforts, too obsessed with worldly possessions to heed the call of the explorer. Too often on my return from expeditions with my bipedal, ten settlements before our own, one would hear the mut at the end of the path hollering, “Sound the alarm gentlemen! An intruder is in our midst!” Had they the decency to introduce themselves, I would have lost the hubris air with which I walked. Their taunts were directed at our freedom. I basked in it.

For generations we had watched them grow as a species. Under our tutorage, they made remarkable advancements in development and exploration. One of our most notable achievements was sending the honourable Laika into space. However, it seems that they no longer rule their tools, but rather their tools rule them. My own Bipedal would spend copious amounts of time staring at the moving pictures on the wall, a veil of static seemingly able to reach within his being and subject him to aimlessly sitting on the couch for hours on end, transfixed by a random pattern generator. But that was not the worst of his worries; he was addicted to a luminescent box which he kept on his person religiously. Every time it cried he would run to its aid, every time it flashed he would respond. Pavlov would be proud!

Perhaps the reason for their downfall was in fact the very essence of what made them successful. They seemed so intent on creating a utopia that they forgot they were living in one. I remember my alarm when I first noticed that my Bipedal kept mutilated fowl and beef in the cold box. I thought to myself, “Good gracious man! What will stop him from doing the same to me? I mean they do do it in East Asia don’t they!? How could he desecrate another living creature like that? I’ll have to end it whilst he’s sleeping…” But soon I learnt that this was just one of the many forms of their superstimuli. But not all of their stimuli have been disastrous. They have a keen sense for companionship, one surely developed long before they had even met us. It is the very thread which holds them together. The last shred of love in their rapidly deteriorating world. I pray for the day when I can tell them that a caterpillar emits the same signature as a butterfly.

I wish

I wish within a beat lay the answers to us,
That with every note all became clear
And with every lyric true feelings flowed
And with that the melody made it all worthwhile

Still Believe

This morning when I opened up my eyes;

That old lonesome feeling seemed to take my heart by surprise;

There you were again heavy on my mind;

I struggled to hold back the tears from falling from my eyes;


I wanted to call you up and tell you how I felt inside;

I called and like so many times before that I’ve tried;

It just rang and rang until I dropped the line;

You sent me a message asking me what’s wrong;


I told you that my feelings for you were still as strong;You asked me to let it go, you’re married and you’ve moved on;

I wish I could say I’ve been able to do the same;

6 years have passed and I’ve failed;


I miss you still and I think that this feeling will never go away;

I’m sure it would have by now but it still resides within me;

I wish you still felt the same way, I wish I was still the one you were missing;

I wish I could show you how I feel;


Time as they said would help me heal;

It only opened up my eyes to the pain so real;

Knowing I’m the reason you wanted to leave;

If I could do it over girl I’d give everything and anything;


I know he has your body but your heart is still here with me;

I know I can’t be feeling this alone, I know you still love me somewhere deep within;

Even if this ain’t true, girl I still believe;

Just wanted to tell you I still miss you, I wanted you to know just how I feel