Black Poetry : GORILLA-poems5&6

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by seshendrasharma, Sep 8, 2003.

  1. seshendrasharma

    seshendrasharma Member MEMBER

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    5
    We enter a chapter in history when facing life
    Is a greater problem than facing death. And a still more
    Frightening problem that we should all join together and sing
    Laurels to the life doled out to us.

    In my country a dead body narrates better about life than the living.
    What can a ship, moving on even keel upon the sea tell us
    About the depths and dangers of the ocean or the character of waves?
    We should only ask the wrecked ship, washed off to the shore,
    To know the real story-

    O poet, don’t hang your so soon to the wall like weapons after war,
    Be ready with the biggest of your guns, the sikharini metre or
    Sardoola metre. Whet your words on the stone properly
    And keep them ready for singing the impending epic. Find out
    How many guns distant is your enemy’s chest-
    If your voice thunders glasses and windows
    In his chest should rattle. These are not days when you
    Feed his dreams; these are the days when gorilla is
    Dreaming hungrily for him.

    Though chains have gathered heavily around the feet,
    Flags have filled the sky in millions-

    6
    How can I hold myself from singing the real song?
    My soul can no longer bear its weight, this huge country
    Lies like a veritable railway platform on my chest.
    I must reveal the real story of these ostentatious trains that
    Parade before us; they are not carrying the people, they
    Are carrying the governments of the day.

    Comrade, don’t remain still in the egg. For
    How can the egg fly? Do not make your face like
    The evidence of a lost empire. Remember, the working muscles
    Are not graveyards of aspirations-

    It is only to make your wings that my window keeps
    Sleepless all the night; when dawn opens its eyes
    We are seen by it, beside a rickety lamp-myself and my tools of poetry.

    The target of my clenched fists, is only one
    Always and that is he! Only the hands of his chair hold the fat greasy body
    Of that beast, otherwise long ago he would have been the prey
    To the inexorable force of earth’s gravitation

    If he does not let my children eat their food,
    I will make the earth drink his blood.
    My poetry does not fly any flag. But
    My hands are the swords of my nation.

    *****************************
    GORILLA IS SESHENDRA SHARMA’S MODERN INDIAN CLASSIC PUBLISHED
    IN 1976, WHEN INDIA WAS PASSING THROUGH THE CRUEL TIMES OF EMERGENCY IMPOSED BY INDIRA GANDHI

    -Seshendra Sharma
    homepage:http://www.geocities.com/saatyaki2001
    email:[email protected]
     
  2. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    welcome nice flow
     
  3. Khasm13

    Khasm13 STAFF STAFF

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    let da gorillaz blast
    cause true freedom
    is lock inside a cast...

    i like this flavor....
    please hit us off with sum more...
    peace
    khasm
     
  4. triniti424

    triniti424 Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    my brotha when u flow...the strength and enlightenment in your words is tremendous.
    Scribe on my brotha :)