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Poem Travel


Buddha above the sink
In water below I drink
I laugh you laugh, together
In and out the horrible weather.
My witness my pain my gain
Through the world we did stay sane

Hung up rinsed to dry underwear
Strewn about the symbols in my layer
Dying on a string cut and torn
From Kurden-La to Srinigar
Cotton thinned and worn
Three pairs in a sack carried
Slept on floors never married

I picked you up in Darjeeling
When the women came to sing
Followed by the AK74’s
There and then closed the doors
The armies out the  pinkies shout
Trapped and hostage bound
Hit the ground if you hear the sound of the AK74’s

Pants you hardly keep me in
Take you down past the chin
In the shower no need for a bucket
We here alone, fuck it
Shall we go travel
In our minds dabble
With the strange ways earth sheds
Sleeping in all those beds
I see you there dyeing
But like Buddha do keep smiling
Pallid room, a view to a kill
All this stuffs making me ill
Remember Pushka and the Gat
At night the bat that shat
Over the clothes the monkey stole
At breakfast rice and the little bowl

I have a cupboard now….luxury?
In the order fury,
Imprisoning all the fruit.
The sole is mute

Red sparkling shorts Cut up the groin
In the heat stuck on loin
Walked concrete garden and ghost
A fast hand now I boast

Look for some pills
To get rid of the ills,
In the bathroom bag an earring
………..Cebu did sing

From the girl that left it there
Next day kidnapped-where?
A little shell on wire mettle
Another island another petal.
Hold in my hand send you luck
What ever you are what ever muck.

Look for the work clothes putrid green,
Under the virgin silk clean,
Looks at me with such glee
Taken from island Majuli

The Buddha sings from where he has been
An amulet given by mother in between
Our rows when I was sweet sixteen
He sat next to the knife
Just in case it was my life
Someone wanted in Manalili
But he got murdered mores the pity

Air ticket paper next to the toothbrush
Thailand’s beach lush
An elephant touch on the shoulder.
The water here is much colder
The socks half hankered, crocked,
Gasp for air, bought for a quid
Ten pairs in Delhi,
Where the air was smelly
But the temples quelled man’s mind.


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