Lights on the hills

Those patches of light on muted hills

some red some white and yellow, some moving;

small dots of sparkle on the infinite canvas of the night.

Soundless, starless and clouded heavens.

Only the sight of those lights, like a heap of glow worms, add some life

to this unfortunate unnaturally quiet and blackened town.

But they're just too far away, like forgotten happy memories,

their illumination too faint to spread any warmth or shine

but how does it matter, it's sleep-time and people are dreaming already.

Perhaps a few eternally disgruntled souls chase for some light

time and again, to snuff out the lightlessness within them,

looking for burning signal lanterns in the dark when the world is sleeping.

Some of the poets I adore and their poems

Charles Bukowski (1920 - 1994)

Dear Charles Bukowski, i feel as though I have met you because even if you are dead and gone your heart lives on on every line you wrote and because your poems break my heart and make me learn how to feel and be human all over again.

Eulogy To A Hell Of A Dame

some dogs who sleep At night

must dream of bones and I remember your bones

in flesh and best

in that dark green dress and those high-heeled bright

black shoes, you always cursed when you drank,

your hair coming down you wanted to explode out of

what was holding you: rotten memories of a

rotten past, and

you finally got out

by dying, leaving me with the

rotten present;

you've been dead 28 years

yet I remember you better than any of

the rest; you were the only one

who understood the futility of the

arrangement of life;

all the others were only displeased with

trivial segments, carped

nonsensically about nonsense;

Jane, you were killed by

knowing too much. here's a drink

to your bones that

this dog still

dreams about.

For Jane: With All the Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough:

I pick up the skirt, I pick up the sparkling beads in black, this thing that moved once around flesh, and I call God a liar, I say anything that moved like that or knew my name could never die in the common verity of dying, and I pick up her lovely dress, all her loveliness gone, and I speak to all the gods, Jewish gods, Christ-gods, chips of blinking things, idols, pills, bread, fathoms, risks, knowledgeable surrender, rats in the gravy of two gone quite mad without a chance, hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance, I lean upon this, I lean on all of this and I know her dress upon my arm but they will not give her back to me. ****************************************************************** Rumi (Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī) (1207 AD) Because I cannot sleep I make music at night. I am troubled by the one whose face e has the color of spring flowers. I have neither sleep nor patience, neither a god reputation nor disgrace. A thousand robes of wisdom are gone. All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away. The heart and the mind are left angry with each other. The starts and the moon are envious of each other. Because of this alienation the physical universe is getting tighter and tighter. The moon says, "How long will I remain suspended without a sun?" Without Love's jewel inside of me, let the bazaar of my existence by destroyed stone by stone. O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names, You who know how to pour the wine into the chalice of the body, You who give culture to a thousand cultures, You who are faceless but have a thousand faces, O Love, You who shape the faces of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris, give me a glass from Your bottle, or a handful of bheng from Your Branch. Remove the cork once more. The we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves, and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play. Then the addict will be breed of craving. and will be resurrected, and stand in awe till Judgement Day. *********************************************************************** e e cummings i carry your heart with me i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling) i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Tuluni

How many pigs to buy?

What size and cost?

Amishi or Avi?

Which village will offer the best quality and the best price?

Who shall get the head?

Who will donate how much?

Chief Guest or no Chief Guest?

Whom can we call to be the festival father?

What shall we give him?

Azuta or angu or both or azuto?

How many groups shall we form, what names shall we choose?

Dead or alive? Christian or animists? Man or woman?

How many in a group?

Who shall head each group?

Which traditional sports shall we play?

Which lejo leh shall we sing?

Which leshe shall we recite?

How many for the fats-biting competition?

Both young and old?

How many bamboos for the climbing competition?

How much should be put in the pouches?

What about men's war dance and women's dance?

Ah! Puxakukuxu, itsakeu and ashekushu as well.

What's the prize money?

Hey! maybe a non-local game too. Ping pong.

What's the entrance fee?

Who will print the program?

Who will pray?

What about the son-in-law hosting play?

Who's going to explain the meaning of Tuluni?

How many pieces of firewood per house?

Who's going to do the shopping?

Who will be the cashier?

It's one big pig and one big cow!

Who shall kill and distribute the Tuluni meat?

Who will cook which meat?

Who's in-charge of rice and greens and chutney?

How many bags of rice?

What about fish?

Who's going to serve the guests?

Dig the holes for the the bamboo-climbing competition

Drape the tent with traditional shawls and amini jeli

Arrange the chairs

divide the groups and assign a dish each

Cook some meat now and dry the rest for tomorrow

Wrap the gifts and prizes

Choose the jewellery and clothes

Wake up at 5:00Am

This Tuluni will be a long day!

Dreams like water

Today it rained

and i thought of you.

How you’d happily take out the buckets

the jugs and plastic Gallons

filling each with rain

all at once --

filling each like pouring fresh dreams

into an empty soul.

But you’re not here

And who will pour these dreams

into my empty buckets now?

I am pretending exceedingly well

like you were never here but

I don’t want to see these familiar things

that have your imprints, your laughter and talks.

This miserable world was not good enough

to keep something as pure.

You’ve left ,

You had to leave

but these dreams of you--

like flowing water--

will they ever cease?

Chasing Sunsets

...and here we go again chasing sunsets

our eyes, the roads, the rain, the evening, the rice fields, cameras and clouds

thirsty for a glimpse of the last glowing moment --

a display of an arrangement of elements,

that had never happened

that will never happen again.