The ceiling was repressed and shouldered by your minarets,
I kept calling, calling out from the tenement blocks,
Searching for tenets and orders, keeping myself in abandon.
What is a love song without a klaxon sound,
sirens singing like pistol carrying pawns,
What is a love song written on the hearts of law makers’,
and law breakers –the shakers of society anguished by
Those persons wild in disbelief.
I hang my gown on cigarette packs as I hang my soul
on cracked beer bottles, half-drunk half-empty
–but filled with pity and spit laced with bacteria.
What is a love song that doesn’t corrupt the heart,
slow and steady like larvae who only wish to reproduce a thought,
What is that love song so unheard of that drives an ape insane,
mad enough to slaughter history and themselves.
I have no eyes for my neighbor,
I have no words for my father –sister –mother.
What was that love song,
that was forcefully taken from another?