SONGS

Some songs leave their remnants
In the corners of our lips;

Songs like the one your father sang
Taking turns around bottles
And in the reeks of cigarettes and marijuana(s)
Till his mouth began to tear from his breath
Till his nostril began to choke from the flames of burnt men
And his teeth began to gnash the air with cold fury

Songs that carry the faces of women
Who weep overnight with the images of bodies
Drowning in their own blood
Images of boys walking barefooted
On walls with naked photographs of girls
In museums where art is a brothel

Songs with the rhythms of gone memories
Memories that greets the body with silence
Holding the tales in the eyes of a grandmother
Learning to pronounce words like; 'Life' with burnt teeth
Memories that taught us to worship God
On un-bended knees, with strange tongues

It was one of the songs that turned me a poet
Scribbling my life in lines, on the book of every soul
Tomorrow, they may not find me here

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