A million Heers, crying.

Today, I call Waris Shah,
“Speak from inside your grave”
And turn, today,
the book of love’s next affectionate page
Once, when one daughter of Punjab had cried;
you had written a wailing saga
Today, a million daughters,
cry to you, Waris Shah

Rise! O’ narrator of the grieving;
rise! look at your Punjab
Today, fields are lined with corpses,
and blood fills the Chenab

This fertile land is sprouting,
venom from every pore
The sky is turning red
from endless cries of gore

Our wedding beds are boats,
their logs have cast away
Our hanging swing,
the Pipal tree has broken in disarray
Lost is the flute, which once,
blew sounds of the heart
Ranjha’s brothers, today,
no longer know this art
Blood rained on our land;
drenching graves to the core
Damsels of love, today,
sit crying at their door

Today everyone is ‘Qaido’
thieves of beauty and ardor
Where can we find, today,
another Warish Shah, once more

Today, I call Waris Shah,
“Speak from inside your grave”
And turn, today,
the book of love’s next affectionate page

The Atheist's prayer

May we find the wisdom to carry out our duties, the humanity to listen to all, the courage to do what is right and the generosity to treat each other with respect.

"It'll All Work Out"

She wore faded jeans and soft black leather
She had eyes so blue they looked like weather
When she needed me I wasn't around
That's the way it goes, it'll all work out

There were times apart, there were times together
I was pledged to her for worse or better
When it mattered most I let her down
That's the way it goes, it'll all work out

It'll all work out eventually
Better off with him than here with me

It'll all work out eventually
Maybe better off with him than here with me

Now the wind is high and the rain is heavy
And the water's rising in the levee
Still I think of her when the sun goes down
It never goes away, but it all works out


---Tom Petty

Sleep

That sinking feeling
As I see you in white
Holding his hand
With love in your eyes
Now, truly, everything is lost.

How did we get here?
Universes separating us
I just want to hold you and sleep.
Go back to a time before time.
Oh, Granter of wishes
Grant this wish of mine
I just want to hold you and sleep.
Sleep, sleep the demons away.

A thousand poems, a purple keychain
I clutch them to my chest
I weep, weep for innocence lost
How do I get over this?
How do I grieve this loss?

A million knives cut through me
Blades sharpened on hearts of stone
They slice through flesh, cut through bone
Wine, the color of blood,
Bursts through my veins and splatters

The world is ending, religion is theft
The fish are dead, there's no ice left
They cannot save it, they are lying
Let's forget what's already dying
I just want to hold you and sleep.

And never wake up, I don't want to live
There is nothing left for me to give
I just want to hide, be warm and cosy
Life is too hard, and people too nosy
I just want to hold you and sleep.

The last gasp of a love dying
Taking so much with it
Leaving so little behind
I let you go. Be happy, my True
I shall pretend I'm happy for you
I just want to hold you and sleep.

My California by Beth Hart

Calling California, is there anybody home?
Hello California, won't you please pick up the phone?
I wanna say “I love you“ but I'm a million miles away
and I am thinking of you, I miss you and L.A.

For you and you alone, I'll lay my monsters down.
We'll watch the sun come up over California.
For you and you alone, I'll find my way back home.
I'll love you like the sun loves California,
my California.

I have made you suffer, left you waiting in the rain.
I was chasing demons in the desert of my pain.
You know me better than the poison in my veins.
So, my love, remember when God forgets my name.

For you and you alone, I will lay my monsters down.
I'll watch the sun come up over California.
For you and you alone, I'll find my way back home.
I'll love you like the sun loves California,
my California.

I wanna feel the ocean breathe,
let the waves wash over me.
I'll leave my windsors in the sand.
Hey California, California....

For you and you alone, I'll lay my monsters down.
We'll watch the sun come up over California.
For you and you alone, I will find my way back home.
And I'll love you like the sun loves California.

California....my California....my California.

My California.

Dom's Best

Son

While I stood by the bloody bed,
She cried out lonely as a wolf.
I put my hand behind her head.
She was lonely and herself.
A midwife with a witchlike face
Hissed in her ear, 'Push, ducky, push,'
Till from his warm and wanted place
My son came through the burning bush.

Sticky with blood and yellow slime,
He was held  up, his back was slapped
Like a drunk's at closing time.
When insecurely he had slipped,
Trailed by a steamy sponge of filth
Into the floodlit theatre, I
Took him inside my arms and felt
How soon our children make us die.

He yelped for air. I took her hand,
But her face was smiled away.
A pride I couldn't understand
Swelled her breasts out like milk. The grey-
faced witchlike woman in her white
Was smiling also, so I knew
This was an old rite I was at
And was necessary to.

I had stood by the bloody bed.
She had cried lonely as a wolf.
I had put my hand behind her head.
She had been lonely and herself.
Now I was lonely and myself,
And standing by the lonely bed,
When he cried lonely as a wolf,
I put my hand behind his head.

-----Dom Moraes

Absences

Smear out the last star.
No lights from the islands
Or hills. In the great square
The prolonged vowel of silence
Makes itself plainly heard
Round the ghost of a headland
Clouds, leaves, shreds of bird
Eddy, hindering the wind.

No vigils left to keep.
No enemies left to slaughter.
The rough roofs of the slopes,
Loosely thatched with splayed water,
Only shelter microliths and fossils.
Unwatched, the rainbows build
On the architraves of hills.
No wounds left to be healed.

Nobody left to be beautiful.
No polyp admiral to sip
Blood and whiskey from a skull
While fingering his warships.
Terrible relics, by tiderace
Untouched, the stromalites breathe.
Bubbles plop on the surface,
Disturbing the balance of death.

No sound would be heard if
So much silence was not heard.
Clouds scuff like sheep on the cliff.
The echoes of stones are restored.
No longer any foreshore
Or any abyss, this
World only held together
By its variety of absences.

 

------Dom Moraes