The New Year

Anytime the sun goes down
our moon changes its shape each night
but today, will set in soon:
what will usher in the new year;
like a match pass they will come
along the dusty road
into where the hazy winds will blow.

There , in our nostrils they will be
placidly a midst the noise and haste
beside a scramble for goats, cattle and fowls:
alive or sick or tiny they can be
for their blood only,
which is shed only for a celebration
on the poor soil
who only mourns the sad death of a fellow creature like himself
.
A bloodless fight of fork and knife
over whom to enter mouth
and their struggle to enter mouth
is heard as they wait
for the clap of the poor and helpless plate on the table.
Into the air, sounds of rockets
and the blurring from loud speakers
keep the noisy awake, on guard a worthless fortune,
an invaded castle of the placid
as they lie in wait,
wishing the night to pass by.

When all is over,
the bloody joyful moment
is remembered with the lips
and told by the proud;
how they caused to mourn, the ground,
while the silent moon and sun consoled..

Say no more

Even if you have all the riches in this world
One thing you can’t buy…
Appreciation.
Comb all the stores
And you’ll find not.
When you search, it becomes invisible.
Where you least expect, it hags you.
How many people will be seen with it
When all they must do,
That they open their mouth
And create a sound…
Thank you once said is enough ,
Takes care of an item
The same for a billion.
Thank you if said a thousand
For a thing is not worth more
When said once.
Never bother ,
Say no more.

We, our own hurt

Hand did the work
Eyes only opened to see
Legs carried all.
It was eyes who saw it
But mouth went into trouble for saying it.
Stomach is hungry and mouth gets choked.
Tongue enjoys the food as
Teeth goes up and down.
Eyes slept and legs entered into a ditch.
Everything is interrelated
And like the body
What you do might not affect you
But someone else

THE INAUGURATION

It is 1AM and calm hover around every where
yet in people the war erupts
the emotional war of anxiety:
the inauguration of the president, the leader.
Through my radio I listened
and my audience to listen
from far and away to hear.
He has shaken the very foundation
on which their minds stood:
a black president of the states;
never has it happened
though once spoken of.
A hero among his race,
historic as he is
soon to be inaugurated.
Despite the odds, very vibrant in speech;
despite the confrontations so full of hope:
the hope to succeed in his deeds.
This hope that he has in him
will change the world and his home
making a better place for all and his people.
Long live this hope in him!
Long live the hope he has brought
the whole world and his people!

Thinking aloud

Some things are not for sale
Even if you have all the money in the world

Some things are weightless
Yet the strongest man cannot lift it

Some things are just not for you
Even if you have it in your pocket

Some memories are unforgettable
Even when they cause the most pain

Some trust can be lost in a flash
Even when it took years in building

Some love for money
Even when there is no iota of love

Some may come your way heartless
Even when you open your heart to them

Some were able to laugh
Even when the going was tough

Sometimes the sun shines
Even when it is raining

Sometimes we only have to wait
Even when time runs out

Somewhere one watches over us
Even when miles away

Somewhere one weeps
Even in the arms of prince charming

Sometimes I ask when again
Even when I know not when again

So long

When I see you smile
My world looks bright
When I see you moody
My world looks dull
Something you cannot know
Something I cannot tell
It comes and goes
Your appearance and departure

You told me it was forever
You told me you’ll never leave me
How can memories fade out?
O don’t say good byeElse I die
When sorrow nears my tent
And none to my rescue comes
Yet now is the hour
That I must say good bye

Soon you will sail
Far across the sea
When you are gone
My winter will prolong
Silence swallows the scenes
The whispers under the shady trees
The night sky will need no light
Friends would be lost
Lovers could be no more

In saying good bye
My heart drowned
My dream shattered
My hope scattered
My path darkened
In the dark I sang
So long cariño
Despedida cariño

O remember me
When you return
Remember me
You’ll find me
Will you return?
O don’t say good bye!
O never say good bye!

La mano hizo el trabajo,
Los ojos abrieron para verlo
Y las piernas llevaron todo.
Fue los ojos que lo vieron
Pero la culpa fue la boca para decirlo.
Las manos robaron pero
Las piernas se pusieron a correr
El estόmago tiene hambre pero
La boca se quedό sin respiraciόn.
La lengua disfruta de la comida
Y los dientes se masticaron
Al cielo y abajo sin concluir.
Los ojos se durmieron y
Las piernas se entraron
En una cuneta profunda y ancha
Como las partes del cuerpo
Se interrelaciona todo:
Lo que se hace no podίa afectarle
Pero a otra persona.

Loneliness

It follows me night and day
Like a lover seeking revenge.
Her ears never gets tired of
Listening to our secret conversations,
Watching us in our closets
With her eyes which never feel tiredness,
Speaks to us when away our friends
Sometimes to comfort us
Other times to put us into trouble.
If friends don’t come near us she is happy
Sometimes to helps one to think and rest.
She can be dangerous if you fear her:
Nobody wants her yet passes through all,
All the locked and sealed doors.
Who can get her out of here?
O loneliness, nobody wants you.

When the folks go gay

The cock crow has long passed in a haste
the blue sky has changed gray
the rowdy air has grown cool
the dark night approaches near
the labour of the joyful day unfolds here
the birds towards their warm nest
the foxes into their hidden holes
the men of the field return home with loads

tired worn out and hungry.
While women sit by the fire cooking
their men warm themselves around the glowing fire
sipping from their gourd a tapped wine
smoking their pipes, their self-made tobacco
getting ready for the promising night
under the open and smiling sky.

Stories are told of yesteryear
of courageous acts of our heroic sons and daughters
and how they gallantly fell and won.
Stories of the dark past and how it should
never rear its heads on its ugly shoulders.
Stories of the good old days: of abundant times;
one told them, all in tales

accompanied by their singing rhymes
and dances according to the rhythmic
beats of their anklets and castanets.
Shouts of uncontrolled excitements from our men
as their women dance to please them:
the erotic dance before the moonlit night
when children are put to rest,

those to soon be mothers and fathers are left.
Palm wine on the ground is spilled
when throats can no more harbour but spit.
A struggle for women during the dance
like starved hawks after the vulnerable chicks.
Dancing ceases when feet go cold
and through a wrestling all damsels chosen.

Soon the glowing fire goes dim
and the flickering palm oil lamp snuffed off
for a march into the white clay thatch
arm in arm and arm around waste
along their wobbling feet they dragged.
To new couples their first approved moon night
men and their women their right night
waiting for the morrow soon to knock.