If I were a priest, I’d pray to the gods For they seem only to listen to men Who banter and applaud Cheap nudity. Manly gusto. Tore up labia. Bloodied justice. I lament! I lament- Birth. Caste. Boobs. Country I am - In mercy from wedding makers In anguish from son seekers In between dicks and dishes Under duress, naked esteem. If I were a priest, I’d pray to the gods To give birth to men Who love strangers as much as they love themselves.
Faith faith go away Let me respite, leave me misery, Awaking seeds of sorrows do sway Heaps of lust which trample and scurry, This Landscape of absurdity. I'm just an artist. I'm just a witness. I stand in the midst of this danger Disheveled on random love and anger, Vexed of life and insatiable hunger As I fall in love and loathe a stranger. Faith faith go away Down the market and onto a quay, Why don't you take a ticket to ride And I'll just love and hate and yearn and chide, For my life needs it all.
It was a rainy day and everyone had them roofed with their umbrella while a man in a wheelchair was showered with rain It was the day humanity died. It was that one cold winter evening a homeless man in street saw people with warm clothes but, with the cold heart inside It was the day humanity died. It was the day of festivity and celebration There was many leftovers for the dog But non for the beggar just outside It was the day humanity died. It was the day a child was born Everyone had blessings and joy None heard the cry of a helpless child whose mother had just died. It was the day humanity died. CLICK HERE TO VIEW ARTIST PROFILE
Sauntering among the midnight trails Consumed in its tannine ales, The vale of Kathmandu city Its ancient lust and momentary giddy Throws a fancy down the whim To seduce the next goddess queen, As she peeks through the moonlight wide Her windows ajar for scorn and chide, Upon the city she does curse For the empty, callous merchants purse, Are never enough for her wandering lust Across the hills and over the mountains Where her lovers dwell Seduce her memory. How her angers swell Into a stranger, jovial as I Passing through the dark and the sky. She permits and I enter Her garret smells of tobacco and charcoal Where sorrow and pity dole, But she'll sting like a hornet And dance like a housefly As we summerset In the trance of her flesh Till the last bill is spent And the soul shall repent, The morrow and its seclusion.