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Saturday 10 December 2011

ODE TO FORGOTTEN MELODIES

They have a way
of come-and-go,
without invitation
with no warning,
those tunes
made of place and encounter
and a long time ago;
but they go
and as they go
they trip and smirk
and rush to destinations
we are not supposed to know,
but I’ve heard that they hide
in this hide-and-seek
climb and slide world of
Ludo
and Snakes and Ladders
lurk in other people’s minds
or tiptoe around
the cacophony of the latest hits. 
So fickle,
these ditties of a long ago;
so unworthy to be theme-song
of a love gone waste
or a history squandered
and yet so adept
at trumping mortality. 

[from the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']

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Friday 9 December 2011

Mumia Abu Jamal*

Yo Mumia,
give us news:
type it all out
on your dread-lock type-writer heart
pin it on the memory of a radio show
fold it in a jailor’s guilt
sail it on the waves of complicity
tell me how long 30 years is like
my brother Political Prisoner,
unravel the meaning
of justice, decency and civilization
those easy alibis for invasion and massacre
the age old guns-in-booty-out of empire;
whistle your story if your fingers are tired of twiddling
in unison with the waiting-for-you
of friend and detractor;
write to us again
the love story of your democracy
your citizenship
and your freedom
that is envied so much
by so many.

*Mumia Abu Jamal, wrongfully convicted of murder, completed 30 years in prison on December 9, 2011.  His sentence was commuted to ‘life’ from execution by lethal injection on December 8, 2011.


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Thursday 8 December 2011

STOLEN MOMENTS

Piece of land that jumped over
the Waste Lands Act
arrested by a mendicant from Europe
to piddle on his hasty little-mindedness;
piece of cloth
embroidered with valour-thread
and discontent
splashed with the orphan blood
of the vanquished,
handkerchief gathering melancholia
frayed edges of history
and history’s footnotes
time’s irrelevanced archive:
yes, it was in this soil
was it not,
was it not here
that the lost melodies
of stolen moments
were finally pieced together
and laid to rest
wrapped in that dust-made banner,
never to rest in peace,
ever?

[from the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']

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Wednesday 7 December 2011

KISSES

In an impossible city
on a street lined with rare emotions
on forgotten clotheslines and heart-sleeves
hang incandescent smiles,
I am told;
not for all eyes, no
but those that are lipped
and are themselves lost
in oblivion. 

[From the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']

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Tuesday 6 December 2011

PAVEMENT STONES

Some newly laid
so newly laid you want to step around them,
and some wearied of feet
chewing gum, spit
and conversation remnant;
pavement stones know stories
know kicked-in-the-gut
insult;
are made of morning, noon and night
witness to all prosecution
innocent to the end
of a rope and sword-swing.
Yes, pavement stones
are drops of poetry
waiting to be flung at the oppressor,
didn’t you know?

[From the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']

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Monday 5 December 2011

A NEW NOTE TO ABIDIN


(AFTER NAZIM HIKMET)

Come Abidin,
let us to the Pearl of the Indian Ocean
the tear of all tears
blood soaked and benign.
There, I have heard
lives a painter*
who turns apple into orange
draws it out of table, table-cloth and frame
to feed revolution;
who disguises scream as laughter
anguish as resolve
and tickles himself to death
so he can live forever.

*reference to Gamini Haththotuwegama.

[from the collection 'Stray kites on string-less days']

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Sunday 4 December 2011

Some texts are made of leaves*

They are flipped with the fingers of the eye
unwet and wet
read with care by those conversant
with the language
of colour, texture and passing
and passed over too
for there are preferred texts
and ones tossed aside
for later and never;
but leaves
come from dust and to dust they go
without complaint
through gaze and ignoring;
they conspire with sun, shade and wind
wear the garments of the day’s seasonality
without shout, let us repeat
but whisper
the eternal verities: ‘birth, decay, death’
all laid out in leaf-texts
that need no words,
not even these.

*Inspired by the photography of Hiranya Malwatta and published in the 'Eye' section of 'The Nation', December 4, 2011.

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