the glorious sound
Blows On Me For Stealing Some Money
Once I stole some money from my father’s pocket
It was long since I had done that
At one point my father came to know the matter
He caught me seriously to be a thief
I became nervous but I denied
When I denied he became more furious and dangerous to me
Suddenly at the time of speaking with him
He started to beat me
Again I told him I didn’t
But he couldn’t believe me
And nothing could make him believe
His blows on me over body and head
Took me to the world of death
He beat with sandals and sticks
With what he got beside him
At one time I was going to die
Suddenly I confessed I took the money
He stopped beating and with his burning eye
He warned me if I would do such kind of work
In the next time he would teach me more
That I’ll never forget
How can I forget the torment, my father, you rained on me?
It was not because I took the money for any serious purpose
Only to buy any toys according to my choice
But my father took it to be otherwise
And taught me a lesson to be remembered from time to time
In life.
The World To Me
This is the world
The world to me strictly as it is
Where we are played as a ball
Dance on the legs
Kicked to the goal posts
Directly enters into
Sometimes it is caught by the goal keepers
Sometimes the kick is missing
We are all played by the players of the world
Everybody wants to supersede on others
We perform our duty as subservient wearing the mask over
Trodden on and suppression
suffocating as well as severe humiliation
By our upper ranks and positions
It’s an uneven area
Where we fall down to walk
It’s not dark but more than dark condition
I’d not like to stay here any longer
I am a ball, not to be played
I’d like to shift the place
and want to live
Where love and beauty play
With the objects of nature.
Saturday Night 2004
Slowly the camera follows me across the room,
Each movement that I make is watched.
If only I could have avoided those moments of insanity,
Those moments when it was the darkest in my life.
The nurses wear those white uniforms and smile,
Only if their smiles were real then I could smile back.
One Kiss 2004
She kisses his forehead and holds his cold hands,
Tears fall down his caramel colored cheek.
Punk Rock, Fast and Pray
HAYES STREET VERSE
for Gwich’in.
_________________
minority reality
reduction based
aside mountain croiX;
burn aside, road rail..
river mural
rush.
_________
When I was growing up, a common dairy advertising jingle on the radio went, ‘Cows in Berkeley? Moooo.’
There may not be many cows around the Oakland and Berkeley area, yet there are several people involved with creating cheese at North Oakland’s Counter Culture Labs.
According to the Water Footprint Network, a global group of researchers and professionals dedicated to analyzing the world’s water use, a pound of cheese requires 381 gallons of water to produce.
Even after the Bay Area’s rainy winter, many people recognize that our state is prone to droughts. So molecular biologist Craig Rouskey and others are developing cheeses less reliant on heavy water use.
Sam Against Time
By Mike Zone
Samuel K. Drexel stood in the hallway, facing down two doors on the second floor of the locally esteemed and moderately priced Cauliflower Hotel. Neurons bouncing around his brain like a wild pinball, trying to determine which room his wife had entered with Coach McMurphy.
Asymmetrical beads of sweat decorated half his boyish face of cut sharp fine features almost like a lady but not quite, having an Adam’s apple and all, he pondered that as he bit into his feminine lower lip but the moisture soaking into his light brown lanky hair snapped him out of it, forcing back into his calculations, factoring variable to no avail determining whether the couple had entered behind Red Door #206 or 208.
Christ, McMurphy! Coach Nicholson McMurphy. How typical, the high school football coach, former semi-pro football player turned philosophy teacher who didn’t know a thing about philosophy; stealing the math teacher’s wife. The kids would be posting this all over FaceBook, tweeting memes or whatever they instagramed; as their parents fondly reflected on the teen McMurphy and Drexel years, in which the same thing happened at least twice a year with Samuel Drexel winding up drenched in toilet water, missing his belt and one shoe but brandishing two black eyes to make up for the lack of accessories.