Beneath trembling feet,
Shivering, groaning blistered, spirited sigh.
Sole-boil out of shape.
A closing gap between me and future
Continue learning the other way round.
Who am I?
Is it the faded shadow? Or the striving?
Galloping windows of opportunities?
Up side down skies?
The cursed waters? The blood of Afghanistan ?
The black European in Africa ? The questioning dog?
Who will I be in the future?
Is it the writer? The Homer?
Pained and future starved teacher?
The inverted river? The dead man?
A frustrated father? The Boer?
How groaningly watching my face in
A water glass –see a trembling window
With the image of mo-
Pain I will die with.
Breath of smoke, beneath the filed the court case a madman writing.
The appealing rumor of my identity.
Zoom the past, see the wicked banner of a killed baby –
Admiring the wicked mule.-the mother
Lineage and dump- future I create today,
Making hay in winter-
Blurring the community image – I degrease
Birth phantom, ruined.
Smeared with tears of a wasted life time journey.
Image, a blood smeared baby, a smartly dressed copse
I see myself driven to the "end of the world "too
The swimming hippo of Savannah
Watching a television in the grassland of my home
The shadow lone
Am not the invisible Atlanta , yet I gouged in river lathe I let my past.
The future is a fallopian tube of the past
No mother, no education, no me
I am my shadow. Grating beneath the slow driven
Wheels of poverty.
With a lying mouth.
Completing sinning like hell, pot, eat a goat and
Berging for forgiveness.
Sooner or later
Scratching the itch. Alley
Way of the God’s temple.
Breathing a sex mouth
Am still looking for employment
I tell my pregnant buffalo wife.
Looking like a frog, a hippo,
she said," me a widow
Oh you the shadow of my pain go on