This fire reminds me of another
This fire that burns the filth
It reminds me of that bonfire
That drove darkness from the old man’s face
...
My lucid words are called my poems
They are my words dressed in kaba or suit
They are shade on a travelers path
And liquor that suffice thirst
...
Death looks different on you
Young one that steals from the aged
They say the robbed that smiles steals from the thief
You smile this day is theft to death
...
As you laid there in mute
I heard you mention my name
Could you hear me at the other side of the river?
By my window I saw you pass by stripped of mortality
...
Now I bite my way into the third dream
Not by crook
But by the exhausting hook
With aching heart I step into this nightmare
...
I saw a man standing
And a lady by him
A lady exploited for what she had
A lady who tapped love
...