The incumbent village idiot would be alarmed by my efforts, as he'd most likely perceive them as ones attempting to dethrone him.
Came up with this a while back. Still don't know what to do with it.
Making the global village
a success story.
Live out of your imagination
not your history!
She had a beautiful smile.
It made a glow in the country darkness.
She was unconventional for a city girl.
She wanted to live in a village.
In the openness of a community.
Farm in the morning
And take a nap in the afternoon
Under a tree.
She didn’t like the buzz in the city
Nor the honk in traffic during rush hour.
She preferred the peace of the village
And the mooing of cows just before dusk.
She wanted a life there. In my village.
Wrapped in traditional fabric — leso
And traditional ornaments adorning
Her hair, her ears and her neck.
Her thirst quenched by River Nam’s cool waters.
She wanted all that but not for herself alone.
She wanted it with me.
I was a village boy in the city.
The city lights shone life into me.
The buzz in the streets kept me alive.
I wanted to live here.
Go to work in the morning
Meetup at the coffee house in the evening
Retreat to the gated community by nightfall.
I didn’t like the routine of the village
Nor the darkness when night came.
I felt neat under the suits
And accomplished wearing leather strap watches.
The ice cold bottled water always felt redeeming
And take out felt like living the dream.
I wanted a life here, with her by my side.
But I left it all for the village
build me a city
and i will paint you in gold. when we stand on the towers
everything becomes a shooting star
a question not of if but when they will hit the ground
and not when but if they will crash before we do. there are
galaxies beyond the scope of what we think
is beautiful, what is human
and what is perfect.
build me a temple and i will
worship your gods. the land at our feet
is a coagulation of shimmering glass,
of lightning on beaches
paint me in prayer and i will walk with you to the ends of the oceans.
paint me a village and i will build you a sunbeam
when the light hits your cheekbones
i call it home.
A lonesome swordsman
Stands on a hill
Watching the village
Where nothing is still
No quiet moment
No crowdless street
No content beings
Nothing unaccounted for
Except the man
On the hill
For he knows one thing
One pair of eyes unseeing
One pair of legs not moving
One pair of hands, useless
One heart not beating
On the hill
Looks to one broken home
And finds his ****
Thanks for reading!
निला निलासा गगन, निचेह‘े हरी चौडीया
सामने घनी बस्ती फाँटमे फ्m,ूल पंछिया
हवाभी महेके समल समलके जुल्फ लहेराके
अनाज होे भरि खेतोमे, नही कोइ पेट खाली —२
हाथ होगा कामोमे, नही होगा कोइ खाली
परदेशके अप्ने, लौट आएङगे वापस प्यारि भूमी
होगा फिर खुस्हाली, गाउँमे लौटेगा दिवाली
न रहेगा सिमाए, न होगा धर्तीके लकिरँे —२
भाइ भाइ कहेङगे सब , नही कोइ अनोखी आस्थाए
न कहेगा काइ मेरा, न बने कोइ पराया
दर्द तो होगा ही घाँउमे, मगर लगादे मलहम सभी
आसु जब किसिके टप्के दिल रहे सबकी हैरानी —२
अनाज हो भरि खेतोमे नही कोइ पेट खाली
न रहेगा कोइ मेरा न बने कोइ पराया
दर्द तो होगा ही घाउमे, मगर लगादे मलहम सभी —२
Theme: Village Life || Social life
High above the horses' corral, the sun
Cutting in the deserted streets
No fighters and no smugglers
no silver diggers, no luck
Only angry eyes that have seen her
Men go around with clubs
comb out all the houses
That angel has to leave
I pull her inside, next to my pounding heart
she kisses me until it is over, the dog is alert
and licks her hand, mama is working
dad drinks all day
We wait for the night
I will go with her
away from here, this is not my home
it is a grave, a hollow stone
on which my name never will be
(where the “Gunfight at the O.K. Corral” took place)
Collection "The migration"
While roasting these
your nose will
the smell of
Second and lastly
take wheat grain
on the mud
Surely the smell
in Brazilian Greener