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RAJ NANDY Jun 2015
AN EXOTIC JOURNEY TO THE
               KHYBER PASS!
              By Raj Nandy

“When spring-time flushes the desert grass,
Our caravan wind through the Khyber Pass.
Lean are the camels but fat the frails,
Lighter the purses but heavy the bales!
As the snowbound trade of the North comes down,
To the market square of Peshawar town.”
- Rudyard Kipling (Dec1865- Jan 1936).

Those immortal lines of Kipling had enticed me,
To delve into famous Khyber’s exotic History ;
And today I narrate its wondrous story!

THE KHYBER PASS:
Steeped in adventure, bloodshed and mystery,
The Khyber remains the doorway of History!
Winston Churchill, then a young newspaper
correspondent in 18 97 had said, -
‘Each rock and hill along the pass had a story
to tell! ’
Cutting across the limestone cliffs more than
thousand feet high,
This narrow winding path of 45 km’s stretch,
Cuts through the Hindu Kush mountain range!
Forming a part of the ancient Silk Route between
Central and South Asia;
Linking Kabul with Peshawar town during those
early days of Pre-Independent India!
The area is inhabited by fierce Pashtun tribesmen,
who live by their ancient Honor Code;
They value their land and liberty, and their winding
mountain roads !
They can be the greatest of friends and deadliest
of foes;
And as the saying goes, for a friend a Pashtun
can even give up his life;
But he never forgets a wrong or when rubbed on
the wrong side !
He always avenges a wrong deed done, -
Even after decades, through his sons!
The indigenous tribes living along the pass,
Regard this area as their sole preserve!
They have levied a toll on all travelers from
the earliest days,
For their safe conduct and passage through the
Khyber, - as Historians say!

HISTORIC INVASIONS THROUGH KHYBER:
At its highest point the Khyber is 3500 ft in height,
But its strategic importance can never be denied!
Around 2000 BC came the Indo-Aryan tribes
from Central Asia,
Migrating to the rich fertile plains of Ancient India!
In 326 BC, the great Alexander came through,
By bribing the local tribes to gain their favour,
To defeat King Porus on the banks of Jhelum River;
And set up his short-lived Bactrian Empire!
In 1192 AD Afghan warlord Mohammad Ghori, -
Invaded India to set up The Sultanate at Delhi!
In 1220 Genghis Khan with his Mongol hordes
came through the Khyber;
With the help of local tribesmen to plunder the
ruling Arab Empire!
In 1380 through this pass came Timur Lane,
To wreck and destroy the Delhi Sultanate!
And finally from Kabul through the Khyber path,
Came Babur to establish the Mogul Empire with
his victory at Panipath!
From 1839 till 1919, here the British had fought,
- three ****** Anglo-Afghan Wars!
And before retreating, drew the famous Durand
Line to ally fears;
But this Line is now the cause of bickering and
tribal tears!

THE BRITISH KHYBER RAILWAY:
At Jamrud Cantonment town 17 km west of
Peshawar,
Lies the doorway to the historic Khyber!
The track passes through a breath-taking rugged
mountainous terrain, -
Through 34 tunnels, over 92 bridges, a 42 kilometer’s
of winding stretch!
A five hour’s journey at Laudi Kotal gets complete;
The line stands as a tribute to British Engineering
feat!
The legendary Khyber Rifles had guarded the
western flanks of the British Empire,
With garrisoned troops guarding this route entire! @
Since 1990 this train is run by a private enterprise, #
With local tribesmen always taking a free joy ride!
Recent Taliban attacks made Pakistan to close
the Khyber Pass,
An uneasy truce prevails, only God knows how
long it will last ?!
But with that Durand Line of 1893 demarcated,
Forty million Pashtuns today stand divided, -
Between Pakistan and Afghanistan!
With hopes, aspirations and dreams of becoming
United!
- Raj Nandy
New Delhi .

NOTES:-
Battle Of Panipath, April 1526, where Babur defeated numerically
superior forces of Ibrahim Lodhi; thereby establishing the Moghul
Empire in India!
On 04Nov1925, the British inaugurated the Khyber Railway to carry
troops up to Laudi Kotal on the other end, short of the Afghan border
to guard the western flanks of the British Empire!
@KHYBER RIFLES: - Raised in early1880s with HQs at Laudi Kotal,
& garrison troops manning the Forts at Ali Masjid near the
mid-way point of the Pass, and also at Fort Maud to the east of the
Khyber Pass.
KHYBER RAILWAYS: With 75 seats, a kitchenette, and two toilets;
pulled by two old Lancashire engines of 1920 vintage! It cuts across
Peshwar Airport under Air Traffic Control! It was stopped in 1982, as
economically not viable! Started again by a Private Enterprise
in 1990, in collaboration with the Pak Railway! After the Partition of
India in 1947, the Khyber is under the Federal Administered Tribal
Area of Pakistan! A difficult and a volatile region to govern! The
Khyber now remains closed due political reasons! Thanks for
reading.
* ALL COPYRIGHTS ARE WITH RAJ NANDY
Nida Mahmoed Dec 2015
One day, two incidents, one enemy; we’ll never forget,
A day which changed map projection,
Which apart the hearts,
Extirpate many dreams,
Floating bodies in the river,
Conjoin pain and frighten memories,
Memories which we would recall on 16th December,
When we were recalling the memories of severance with Dhaka,
Woe was in the breeze,
But an enemy afar from all emotions,
Bloodthirsty souls; Extirpate many dreams,
Dreams of to become a pilot, doctor and a responsible citizen,
One day, two incidents, one enemy; we’ll never forget,
We’ll never forget,
One enemy but two faces,
First Dhaka than Peshawar,
But they did not knew,
Events of dolorous conjoined the nations!

By: Nida Mahmoed
Dedication: This poem is dedicated to all APS victims.
Maria Imran Dec 2014
Today, I want to weep.
It's giving me pain. And this much pain I cannot handle. I haven't felt it like this before. What is this?
They killed them. They killed children! 84 of them! They killed school kids! Those beasts. Those animals. Those heartless, inhumane murderers. They killed innocent creatures, they took lives. Lives of so many.
And what am I to do? What are you to do? What is anyone to do?

Why are people talking about lands and religions? Why aren't they seeing what the families are going through? Won't they learn a filthy promise is nothing but that-- a filthy promise? Those ******* liars. Those politicians and haters scoring points, what even is this?

And that's how this will end, like ever. Drink tea, relax, watch movies maybe?
Die.
I know this isn't your poetry stuff. But I needed to write this. Terrible state.
16-dec
VENUS62 Dec 2014
Men and women all born to a creed
no creed an advocate for evil deeds
Savagery of the Peshawar kind
has more to do with an evil mind
that does not think nor analyze
blinded it is  by  emotions unwise
Biochemical imbalances of the brain
and a body bereft of a conscience
is that what makes them take an AK47
and wreak havoc on defenseless innocence

a satanic act born of frustrated cowardice
that seeks to hide in dark disguise
behind the shroud of distorted beliefs
that seeks revenge as heavenly relief
Those that make their own earth a living hell
Which God and what paradise waits for them pray tell?
Gul e Dawoodi Dec 2014
I am from Pakistan...
Yesterday on 16 December, 2014 our city Peshawar got attacked.  Terrorism at it's peak!
Innocent kids and teachers were brutally killed by the terrorists. These martyrs didn't know that there    life was going to end like this!
My whole nation is bleeding.teachers were burnt in front of their students. Bullets were sprayed on innocent lives. THIS ISN'T HUMANITY!  THIS ISN'T WHAT ISLAM TEACHES! THOSE TERRORISTS **** OTHERS IN THE NAME OF GOD BUT THIS ISN'T WHAT GOD WANTS FROM US.
I REQUEST you all to pray for the young martyrs because humanity has no Boundaries!  
Thankyou.
Please pray for the safety of every country because everyone's life is precious!
Unknown guy Dec 2014
A huge tragedy where children's died
You could see the sparkle in those children's eyes
The whole pakistan cried,
Its a shame for those talibans so called "pride".
I got nothing to hide,
Even I live abroad my heart  mourned and cried......
Mehma Kunwar Dec 2014
Tears vanish from my lids
When i think of those favoured kids
Whom those beasts thought as dead
Coloured in the bruises of red
No matter how much their guns strived  
They still, are alive. (3:169)
I belong to an APS the one which got attacked and I'm not scared. We are Pakistanis and our blood maybe cheap to you but not cold.
141: Never forget, never forget.
The Flipped Word Dec 2014
Innocent eyes, Innocent lives
the day the world lost it's light
In times that are so dark and dreary
Hope only breeds eternal misery

Little toddlers trickling in
preteens just going about
Teenagers just about to begin
All like chalk, were wiped out

Witnesses to horrific crimes
it'd have been better if they were blind
What was their fault, i ask
they hadn't even begun their lives

One death murdered two
a child's death killed his parents too
What was their pathetic excuse
to embarrass humanity,such abuse

Oh those young supple lives
How great was love's demise
So many worlds jolted with shock
Of how humanity came to a full stop.
Rhianecdote Dec 2014
Walked into a school

And taught a lesson to us all;

With one moment in the present

You can ****** the **future
My heart goes out to Pakistan.
I don't think that there's anything more tragic than the loss of a child let alone the ****** of many. People are no doubt going to argue the politics, the history the religious elements that have led to this travesty all in search of an explanation but the simple heart of the matter is this; the fact that we all live in a world where this occurs makes us all responsible and I feel that the cutting short of all those young lives, all that possibility, is  unforgivable. Literally murdered the future.
rainforester Dec 2014
Breathless, these words spill from
Places scarred by the echoes
Of the gunshots that took
So many lives.

Why did you do it?
Does the sunlight fall
Across those halls
Differently than it did before?
Why did you do it?
Cold hard guns gripped in
Fingers that didn't feel
Or hands that couldn't bear
The weight of the bullets' wounds.
Why did you do it?
Hearts that don't beat
For humanity, or
Compassion, or
Even decency.
Why did you do it?
May the insides of
Your eyelids always
Carry the imprint
of your crimes.

Horrendous gunmen.
I, like so many others, wrote about the killings that took place at Peshawar. I don't know what I hope to accomplish, but there you go.
Àŧùl Jul 2016
Oh I wish to be a bird,
For then there would be freedom.

I could be here or there,
And freely without borders.

Then I will not be blinded,
Flight of my will power would be untamed.

I could be flying in Srinagar,
And then in Peshawar afterwards.

Then nothing would restrict me,
Unaffected personal would be my choice.

I could be in Moscow,
And even in Washington.
First step towards one world would be the allowance for passport-free movement.

My HP Poem #1103
©Atul Kaushal
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
The Eager Traveler
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Even in the torture chamber, I was the lucky one;
When each lottery was over, unaccountably I had won.

And even the mightiest rivers found accessible refuge in me;
Though I was called an arid desert, I turned out to be the sea.

And how sweetly I remember you, oh, my wild, delectable love—
Like the purest white blossoms, on talented branches above.

And while I’m half-convinced that folks adore me in this town,
Still, all the hands I kissed held knives and tried to shake me down.

You lost the battle, my coward friend, my craven enemy,
When, to victimize my lonely soul, you sent a despoiling army.

Lost in the wastelands of vast love, I was an eager traveler,
Like a breeze in search of your fragrance, a vagabond explorer.

Published in the anthology Eastern Promise



I Cannot Remember
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I once was a poet too (you gave life to my words), but now I cannot remember
Since I have forgotten you (my love!), my art too I cannot remember

Yesterday consulting my heart, I learned
that your hair, lips, mouth, I cannot remember

In the city of the intellect insanity is silence
But now your sweet, spontaneous voice, its fluidity, I cannot remember

Once I was unfamiliar with wrecking ***** and ruins
But now the cultivation of gardens, I cannot remember

Now everyone shops at the store selling arrows and quivers
But neglects his own body, the client he cannot remember

Since time has brought me to a desert of such arid forgetfulness
Even your name may perish; I cannot remember

In this narrow state of being, lacking a country,
even the abandonment of my fellow countrymen, I cannot remember

Published in the anthology Eastern Promise



Come  
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Come, even with anguish, even to torture my heart;
Come, even if only to abandon me to torment again.

Come, if not for our past commerce,
Then to faithfully fulfill the ancient barbaric rituals.

Who else can recite the reasons for our separation?
Come, despite your reluctance, to continue the litanies, the ceremony.

Respect, even if only a little, the depth of my love for you;
Come, someday, to offer me consolation as well.

Too long you have deprived me of the pathos of longing;
Come again, my love, if only to make me weep.

Till now, my heart still suffers some slight expectation;
So come, ***** out even the last flickering torch of hope!



Ahmad Faraz [1931-2008], born Syed Ahmad Shah, was a Pakistani poet generally considered to be one of the greatest modern Urdu poets. Faraz was a poet accessible to ordinary readers due to his “fine but simple style of writing.” Ethnically a Hindkowan, he studied Persian and Urdu at Edwards College, then at Peshawar University, where he became a lecturer after receiving his Masters. During his time in college, Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Ali Sardar Jafri impressed him and became influences on his own work. Faraz was born in Kohat, Pakistan to Syed Muhammad Shah Barq. In an interview he recalled how his father once bought clothes for him and his brother on Eid. He didn't like the clothes meant for him, preferring the ones given to his elder brother. This lead him to write his first couplet:

Laye hain sab ke liye kapre sale se (He brought clothes for everybody from the sale)
Laye hain hamare liye kambal jail se (For me he brought a blanket from jail)

Faraz was an outspoken critic of Pakistan’s military dictatorship, saying, “My conscience will not forgive me if I remain a silent spectator of the sad happenings around us. The least I can do is to let the dictatorship know where it stands in the eyes of the concerned citizens whose fundamental rights have been usurped. I ... refuse to associate myself in any way with the regime ..."

Keywords/Tags: Ahmad Faraz, Pakistani, Urdu, Persian, translation, couplet, eager, traveler, love, mrburdu
aviisevil Dec 2014
I saw death so close,
It was hard to close my eyes.
needles poked holes in the rose,
And he kept crying till he died.

I caught them sleeping-
Laid on a grave far too young.
I could hear a mother weeping,
For the dead daughters and sons.

Some had eyes to the sky,
Others were dreaming in a coffin.
But the reaper wore a smile,
Hands raised in a mocking.

An abyss was made in this sea,
As the reaper kept on walking.
I thought I heard something,
Then I saw the ashes falling.

Sometimes a road leads nowhere,
And you get too lost to be found.
I heard them one last time
then I saw children falling down.

Shattered windows were all around,
But in darkness there's no light.
And no truth is enough-
For the holy thief who lies.

A thousand people came,
All along waiting for this night.
But was it worth an end,
To a beginning that might unite.




And then I heard the screams,
Oh, the howl of horror and fear.
But the crying stopped in a blur,
For scars had swallowed all tears.

Winds brought me the noise,
Of mayhem and doom.
Drowning the voices,
That were yet to bloom.

So I fell on my knees,
Awaiting the fate of my faith.
And then I saw the reaper,
He had a very similar face.

Though his eyes were cold,
Dark as the depth of the sea.
Even though he was a monster,
He seemed very human to me.



Blood for blood,
I heard him whisper.
A Blasphemous philosophy,
And a reality that withers.

The violence fell silent,
As the shadow came nearer.
I searched for a place to hide,
But all that was left was a mirror.

So I hid behind his reflection,
As his image grew weaker.
And all the ghost could see-
Was a God in the mirror.
Notes (optional)
Arfah Afaqi Zia Aug 2015
Nowadays what you see everywhere is threats,
Threats to blow up the whole nest,
People in black masks and explosive vests,
Running all over the world to threat,
Killing innocent children and tearing them apart,
Separating them from their families and leaving only memories from their past,
Is this humanity?
Shedding blood to show your ability,
Eradication of these terrorists should be done,
Provoking them to feel the pain they inflicted upon,
Feelings of guilt and betrayal,
Perceiving blood in pools and trails,
Laughter and happiness all fade away,
Leaving behind only depression and decay,
All you can do is pray,
For all these terrorists to pay.....
Some of you are aware of this and some of you aren't... On 16th December 2014, in Aps (a school and college) in Peshawar was blown up by a terrorist group. And many children, as well as teachers lost their lives. It was the most dreadful thing that had happened. Those savages took away a thousands lives. I was very depressed and so I wrote this poem for hope and justice.. May God Almighty make these terrorists pay!!!!
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
Untitled for none is deserved.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/02/world/asia/pakistani-militants-gun-down-7-aid-workers.html?hp



Bended knees self-sanctify bloodied ground,
sneering, silent thunder slaps my face,
Those Who Dare Call Themselves Gods,
chuckling at all they have wrought,
murderous, heinous, hateful.

Who is the reprehensible abomination,
us or them,
and their devoted servants
who **** "freely" in their name?

Ennobling man with faculty infinite,
then tempting/torturing, obstacling him
from its fullest usage, lest we recognize,
the imperfection of their sloppy design.

If free will is a gift,
I freely regift it back to them.

Some venerate Mother,
after killing their wives and daughters and
mothers,
laughing about it in
the whorehouses of their souls
  
What a piece of work are these Gods!

If man is the quintessence of the Gods,
their last, best creation before resting,
are they themselves not corrupted?

So called Gods,
pillory the New York City morn dawn,
a pallor hard-grey nothingness.
a bitter kiss, from things only they control,
a greeting card from on high,
happy new year wishes from
Newtown, Delhi, Peshawar,
and Jerusalem.

At last, I comprehend,
why we minioned millions
celebrate this day with drunken reverie.
---
Jan. 1, 2013
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
BY: Cedric McClester

While the internet entices
Those making sacrifices
For Boco Haram or ISIS
Whose platforms are divisive
Here’s what my advice is
Stop cutting heads in slices
While rolling out the dices
Which makes you not the nicest
Saying it’s all in Islam’s name
When you practice to defame
Every prophet who ever came
You’re only poppin’ game
Cos’ their message was real plain
It’s really not hard to understand
Men can’t do what only God can

There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****
He’s the only Khalifah
That I know there is
You can’t build a Khalifate
Solely based on hate
So let me restate
(well here it is)
There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****

You have to be mad
Or Michael Jackson bad
To declare world-wide jihad
I find it a tad rad
And it really is quite sad
But you’re making Shaytan glad
He’s got you living at his pad
So never mind Riyadh
Of course Asad’s got your back
Inside of Syria and in Iraq
You’ve made a devil’s pact
I know this for a fact
So as you plan your next attack
What will be your third act
And whose head next you gonna wack

There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****
He’s the only Khalifah
That I know there is
You can’t build a Khalifate
Solely based on hate
So let me restate
(well here it is)
There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****

Just like Teena said
I’m talking square biz
There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****
So you need to tell me now
What the **** gives
With you deciding who dies
Or who the hell lives

Allahu Akbar it’s the final test
As another jihadi with a suicide vest
Blows himself and others up
Like you might have guessed
Hoping for the paradise
That his leaders stressed
His picture will be shrouded
Nevertheless
See he never gave it more
Than just a casual look
So he’s hasn’t read the words
Inside his Holy Book
Which explains why he’s a pawn
Instead of a rook
And an internet suggestion was all it took

There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****
He’s the only Khalifah
That I know there is
You can’t build a Khalifate
Solely based on hate
So let me restate
(well here it is)
There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****

The ******* Taliban
In Peshawar Pakistan
Had the upper hand
And carried out their plan
To ****** like the ****
Although it’s clearly banned
By several ayats in the Qu’ran
They don’t seem to understand
They’re no fans of education
But how do you build a nation
If your sole vocation
Is suicide and assassination
Now the whole world’s losing patience
With the latest allegations
Wondering what’s their motivations

There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****
He’s the only Khalifah
That I know there is
You can’t build a Khalifate
Solely based on hate
So let me restate
(well here it is)
There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****

They say that Islam is
The religion of peace
Before they blow themselves up
And the madness doesn’t cease
Like someone just released
A heard of savage beasts
And I’m not just talkin’ ‘bout
In the Middle East
Over in Australia a self-made Imam
Showed us just how much
He didn’t give a ****
By taking hostages at gunpoint
Without a demand
After having had
A thirteen hour news span

There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****
He’s the only Khalifah
That I know there is
You can’t build a Khalifate
Only based on hate
So let me restate
(well here it is)
There’s only one Khalifah
And his name is ****

While the internet entices
Those making sacrifices
For Boco Haram or ISIS
Whose platforms are divisive
Here’s what my advice is
Stop cutting heads in slices
While rolling out the dices
Which makes you not the nicest
Saying it’s all in Islam’s name
When you practice to defame
Every prophet who ever came
You’re only poppin’ game
Cos’ their message was real plain
It’s really not hard to understand
Men can’t do what only God can




(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
Peshawar
Queen of the Khyber,
never been there
but
it's on the list.

Refugees brought to their knees
as departments compartmentalise
and local Government
tell
their lies.

In the eye of the beholder
the beholden
looks older,

time has a habit of
doing things like that.
Bob B Jul 2019
Maya Akbar° feared going home
To her hometown in Pakistan.
The person whom she feared was her father--
Obviously, an intolerant man.

Staying with friends in the town of Peshawar,
She didn't trust her family's pleas
For her to return to her parents' home.
Her friends deeply felt her unease.

Maya's father assured the police
That his daughter wouldn't be harmed.
The 19-year old transgender daughter
Nevertheless remained alarmed.

Reluctantly, she went home.
Hours later her friends' hearts sank:
Maya's bullet-ridden body
Was found beside a riverbank.

Police arrested Maya's father.
Her uncle and brothers are also being sought.
All over the world transgender people
Die because of the hatred that's taught.

Some call it an "honor killing."
Honor? No, it's ******, truly.
When ignorance fans the fires of hatred,
Many people suffer unduly.

Efforts are made all over to fight
Laws that are discriminatory.
Laws can change, but changing hardened
Hearts? That’s a different story.

-by Bob B (7-3-19)

°Formerly known as Aftab Aurangzeb, from Nowshera, Pakistan
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
so she write this article, this amanda
foreman,
   a historian and with four girls
and one boy that's almost the fifth and
i'm wondering:
god, where has this headache come from
where is the man?
                life's too perfect to seem
to rhyme, or worth wasting your time
remembering some obscure Versailles verse
worth a shining ****'s worth of
a crown readied for a one-night stand...
**** me, a five+ female household,
i hope these muslim martyrs wishes what
they got themselves into...
   the true martyrs have three entry
points...
           mouth, vaginal, ****...
            if you can't spot the true martyrs
i'll tell you about asking the watermelon man,
or herbie hancocks, or in comparison
by ol' joe...
      treating his quasi-alzheimer stories
like your favourite jazz standards...
herr bitebonbon, dresden, auschwitz,
and some other memories:
  a drowning man will cling to a razor blade
to stay afloat, like any old man:
what bugs him now is not being sad,
but being foregetful...
he replays the rubric every day:
he says:
sure, i'm dead already:
but i want to remember myself dying!
   old people and their jazz standards of memory,
i am old, i feel old,
   oh ma'h feel'ah rob'eh m'on...
   patois or 'alf the pitied peshawar mamí son...
lumberjack my *** were 'ere bootleg
a stump of wood mamí sis...
  ya rite?
           *** we boss the 9,2,3,oh,5...
and call that a freq.,
  man that boy to a prrrrrristine:
shakin' m'ah timbers floating a-high...
man, sum tim' the talk ain't talk
it's called: scare-alley-cat-talk
feelin' a gush of **** talk-ji
  of an incubus toying with ya
little mums' crisp clear elijah of buttock
say in: **** as smooth as
a mouth slicking a rota of a hooplah...
talk cool: play the dumb infant...
next time you know:
   yo be talkin' to mama bear an
pleading for her Mississippi pancakes...
**** you not...
             she a one woman with
a five daughter brothel...
good lucky lucky luke if there's any
eager...
                last time i checked:
neither word, nor piano nor horn earned
****...
        just a nice ref. to: ooze...
  like washington's monologue in
fences didn't earned him oscar:
but a director's role none the less...
lady guesses to choose...
and her choice is always wrong
while her guess is always good...
          my, why a mighty site these days:
a man that stays at home becomes
a better cook than a woman,
who isn't all too eager to enter the outside world...
there's always the idea of a death by
a grizzly bear and i think of entering
a bear enclosure in the danzig zoo...
  and the little bear that ate my cardigan button...
and the bear mama...
      god, i love that memeory,
because it's so unreal that it's real because
it happened and my mind became
a ******* ******* trickster thinking
that my faculty of memory didn't dig
that far back...
         the child always remains with the man
that the child always was,
   but the child never became,
and the man who always imagined the child
becoming the man he is,
never said to the man un-becoming the child:
you were never this until "i" became you,
and "you" un-became me.
30+ hours wide awake and i'm still
trying to succumb to falling asleep
to fidgeting...
                        sure, nice trick, juggle three
oranges... then more into the iron league
of juggling three watermelons my
dear, common man.
         classical music acted upon the same
jerking off technique
     that excess rock did to solo guitarists...
chopin was a ****** on guitar...
he had no rhythm man...
            why do i know this?
the japanese, those wannabe white-ohs
pretend to be chopin...
they ******* ski-jump to boot!
                    chopin had no style because
he had no rhythm...
actually liszt ****** off the most,
smoked the most cigars and prematurely
******* with the most number of lovers...
    i really feel for that poet who cried himself
to sleep seeing him "perform"...
           you can solo the ******* want,
but the only rhythm on piano came with jazz...
i hate ******* for their lack of appreciation
of jazz... i hate to be a white guy telling them:
hey... jazz over class every day...
  you people, yes: YOU PEOPLE
ABANDONED JAZZ IN A MATTER OF
AN AMNESIAC TRYING TO REMEMBER
A DISTINGUISHING ASPECT BETWEEN
A T-REX AND MARC BOLAN!
how can you just give up rhythm piano,
the democratic soloing of each instrument
in a band in a matter of what,
20, 30, 40 years?
     LOSERS!
      rhapsody of the nincompoop...
hit the trends you ******, with your
nike airs and your shaaq attaq?
  canary in a colemine?
how 'bout a ****** smiling at me?
how about: pearly whites in a colemine?
talk kit-kat chunky pale white boy:
i start talking ivory...
                     hey: if the black guy ain't
the canvas of what i'm about to x-ray
i don't know why he shouldn't find his
root in the skin in the tongue in Swahili
so we can keep it neutral and not so,
******* lazy: english, keeping up with
post-colonialism Kardashians' shenanigans...
come on... they left sonny trashed nodding
at the piano: just one more note,
just one more note...
          boom... crescendo and the death's head
gravity pulled the gracious ***** down.
it's just a shame that they gave up
on jazz so quickly,
                   and turned to white *****
gloryhole ******* - which must imply:
Ethiopians in Japan...
              hey... you tell me:
last time i heard i heard the whale was
mammal, and that there was the Eskimo...
pop doesn't really bother me right now;
you left sonny clark nodding to his death
thinking he was falling asleep at the piano!
NOW... ******... BLEACH ME...
I ******* DARE YOU!
robert johnson didn't meet his fate
at the crossroads through a jealous middle
class white girl either...
given the times, being a white guy:
i guess that's also my fault...
oh look... there flies the cuckoo:
and here's the nest.
Everlasting war
The new normal in the twentieth century is war
it has continued without a break a perpetual machine
of mass killing, someone somewhere must see
war as a business in which every country has a ****** hand.
Politicians, the handmaiden for manufacturers
of weaponry claim, they only sell the weapon for peaceful
means this as bombs fall in Yemen.
The Afghan war against the Taliban has lasted 17 years
and will not end before all foreign troops leave,
but the war continues, and the poppy fields bloom.
Many smaller countries in UN see, it cynically, as a training
ground for officers and they know well
the Taliban cannot be defeated on the battlefield that
have no lines of combat against the Peshawar people
who fights for freedom, but we chose not to see this.
On an island in a ****** river they count not corpses but the money they make.

— The End —