Beggers and Thieves

Another excerpt from “Let’s Burn This House Down”:

And maybe living, loving and parting ways are just habits like any other. Pull of the ancient tit, my first familiarity with the ‘nurturing ‘other’. My favourite spot or an abstract time I need to have my tea cooked for it to render my soul pleased; yet another abstraction. Inertia! and not the fear of the unknown. Things of habit have the nature of becoming strange and unknown over time, and ‘fear’ of the unknown, ‘the other’; demands a certain knowledge of its objectives and mechanics. Like death itself, the unknown hasn’t arrived in a form I can decipher then receive, to love or to hate it. Something with much greater strength has to collide with me to break me free of the primitive inertia of the memory of the estranged known, of both its joy and the grief.. Something mightier than the weighty corpse I hold so dear, as if the dead of the best and the worst has entered my soul to replace my senses such that I see nothing, but the back of my own head.

PS: While traveling in downtown changing tracks, I asked a stranger for a cigarette. He knew your name.

SCARDY MOFOS

Today
I met a stranger in subway
he thought he knew you once
(maybe he was lying
had my name carved on his chest)
God bless the wretched
be known to you;
an only once!

We then met a beggar
poor man showed no shame
asking my stranger, a dime spared
we both were then thrown to told
you once fed him everyday

When love goes south
there’s always “the last” ferry-way
our shuttle arrived
them all limply lads rode away