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Poem

SUICIDE NOTE

If you need to learn the alphabet of war
Start from 'A' man who bit his own tongue
He will let you know how pain becomes small pox
That writes sore poems all over the body.
Leave a sad man to a piano
And he will find the right keys
To his type of music.
Another ship has capsized in my body
My eyes are yet to find fins
And I am not streamline
But I would love to see if there are survivors
There won't be, for water is not different from fire
As night is not different from day, to a blind man.
To run from my memories
I will have to die, and leave them
In the heart of another victim
But my mother's soul is an old nest
Waiting for my bird to return from the land-
of burning trees.
The last time I visited the cemetery
I built three cities:
- The first was Paris
- The second was Cairo
- The third was Lagos
But I only left with a stick of cigarette, a firelighter-
and soft fumes of burning weed.
So I am dying tomorrow
To a land where a stranger can come
And build my unfulfilled dreams
For of what use are these dreams?
If they cannot be stolen, but I can be killed.
If you see my mother looking outside the window
Tell her the empires I promised her are waiting
In a foreign land, nearby.

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