FROM BERLIN TO HAMBURG

There he goes again
With his knapsack
Hanging on his back
Like a soldier of fortune
Just one phone call
And he's on the move
From Berlin to Hamburg.

Don't forget to comb your hair
Remember to pay your fare
Restless tramp!
How long will you continue
To journey back and forth
Through the long, dark
tunnel of life?

He sits on the upper deck
of the omnibus
Ominously surveying his
surroundings with a feeling
of deja vu
And then he remembers with
a jolt
His trip from Africa on the
wings of an eagle:
Soporific lights
Adjustable seats
And lofty dreams
But because of his restlessness,
he cannot sleep
Whether it is a three-hour journey
from Berlin to Hamburg
Or an eight-hour journey
from Africa to Europe.

Now you are at your destination
But you are still light years away
from the bull's eye
You'd be a fool to thump your chest
and proclaim veni, vidi, vici
When the whole world is pitched
against you
In the mother of all battles:
The battle for survival
You've arrived indeed, but
"you ain't seen nothing yet"
That is why you are always
on the road shuttling
between Berlin and Hamburg
In search of the golden fleece
A tantalizing will-o'-the-wisp
Which, of necessity,
must glow like a fire-fly
Illuminating the long, dark tunnel
from Berlin to Hamburg.

MISUNDERSTANDING MYSELF

How much of my success in life
is due to Providence?
How much of my wealth
is due to crime?
How much of my misfortune
is due to naivety?
How much of my suffering
is due to retribution?
How much of my indignation
is righteous?
How much of my outburst
is uncontrolled?
How much of my right
is wrong?
How much of my wrong
is right?
How much of my love
is insincere?
How much of my sincerity
is feigned?
How much of my life
has been wasted?
How much of my hate
is justified?
How much of my truth
is falsehood?
How much of my falsehood
is truth?
How much of my libido
is natural?
How much of my nature
is hereditary?
How much of my euphoria
is drug-induced?
How much of my sadness
is the side effect of my
euphoria?
How much of my sanity
is unreal?
How much of my insanity
is real?
How much of my vision
has been put to reality?
How much of reality
have I embraced?
How much of my extroversion
is beclouded by pessimism?
And how much of my introversion
is overshadowed by optimism?

The questions could go on and on
and on
And yet remain unanswered
But one thing I wil strive to do
Just before I step ashore into
another life:
I bare my heart to the entire
world of humanity
Philosophers, fools, princes,
moralists and all manner of men
Examine my conscience
consciously
And if I am found wanting
Forgive me
I am not perfect, I am only
human.

The Mind of A Suicide Bomber

THE MIND OF A SUICIDE BOMBER

Somewhere

close to the top

of the skyscraper
Deep
inside the cathedral
of Mammon
I lie in ambush
with weapons
of mass destruction

strapped

to my puny chest.

Like Lucifer
I once radiated light
And as in Lucifer
the light got dimmed
marking
my fall from grace
And now
I'm like a marked beast
My skin plus
my religion
a well-matched couple
whose nuptial knots
have been tied
by the horned priest.

Lately
I have been reliving
and relishing
the prospect
of lying
on green cushions
and beautiful carpets
with
seventy two virgins
rolling in the hay
and sipping
heavenly hennessy.

And now
the bell invites me
Right before I strike
dear God
all I'm asking
remember this face
Save me a place
in paradise
My skin is
my sin.

THE MYSTERY

Great and small minds alike
The sagacious and the idiotic
Labour daily in vain as they
ponder upon the deep things.
Seeing, but lacking the gift of
penetration
They are confounded by the
mystery.
Ours is but to pause and listen
To the sound of the apocalyptic
drum
Played by the minions of fate
And man, born of a woman, is
the soul of the dance macabre.

In this life, we are coming in from
the cold
And at the end of our journey
Our mortal remains are entombed
in the bowels of the earth
With total darkness enveloping the
six-foot depth.
The life we live here is a prelude
to the hereafter
And we have to die a thousand
deaths
Before we can get to the mountain
top of nirvana.

Petulant creature, gripped by fatalistic
desires
Is contemplating the easiest way out of
the misery:
Should I cut off my manhood for the
mortification of the flesh?
Or should I drown myself for the
purification of the body?
The grey-haired one understands
the mystery
And as flashes of the imminent trajectory
go through his mind
He bids the neophytes to forget
the misery
For life is a jigsaw puzzle and death
a reality
Only the Supernatural in whose palms
our destiny is inscribed
Can unravel the mystery of
life and death.

The Nations of Goliath

THE NATIONS OF GOLIATH

The great Himalayas are dwarfed by the
industrial giants;
Remnants of the global cake are dished
out by the economic titans;
The rise and fall of the rulers of the earth
is engineered by the political mafia:
The Nations of Goliath.

You are the axis around which Lilliputians
revolve;
Sneeze and watch the rest of the world
dissolve;
When you cough, thunderbolts wreak
havoc;
The earth was made for you to invade;
And in every city, the evils of capitalism
prevail.
The whole world now teeters on the brink
of a nuclear holocaust;
Thanks to the Nations of Goliath.

You fan the embers of war with malice
aforethought;
And then, peace-keeping follows as an
afterthought.
The world is plunged into attrition and
extinction;
With collateral damage resuting
from your military expedition.

The Nations of Goliath:
Your aid is a noose and your hangmen are
multifarious;
You constitute an ambulant variety of
cactus;
And your rational humanism presages
instability.
Unmasked, you are imperialists par
excellence;
A pack of vampires fattening on the lifeblood
of Lilliputians;
Who in their little world of non-alignment,
Preserve inviolate a system of which
you are the nucleus.