Sikh Poet: Beware of this Terrorist
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Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
untitled
Mass confusion
The search for absolution
Staring into the eyes of redemption
I receive her blessing and continue my transgressions.
Guzzling communion wine
Unaware that I am doing time
In the prison of the mind.
I gaze at the moon and listen to its rhyme
As is glistens and it shines.
I provide substantial examples
Of what it means to battle with anvils
And medieval axes.
Grown man tactics
No pediatrics
Infants receive the blacklist from fascists brandishing automatics
My foe hides behind a mask, a plastic image
Melted swiftly with flames that cannot be extinguished
I watch them flicker and dance
I deliver and grant
Clemency to enemies
Unaware that they are endlessly
Enslaved to commonplace tendencies
Of the past few centuries
I diverge from my pedigree
Previous trends and methods
That I reject and discredit
An exquisite exhibit of explicit slick tips I issue to misfits
Rambunctious little hoodlums
Dedicated Muslims
Jews and Christians
Different schools of religion
Share the same prophets
But clerics only harp upon the toxic topics
Diluting the meaning
With their hooting and screaming
Blood spilling and killing
Claiming they are fulfilling
The work of God?
I am losing my composure
Far from sober
Days grow colder
My skin withered and older
Philosophy of a soldier
Forsaken by his nation
Like the Ronin, I am nomadic
Part-time peddling of addictive tidbits to hip-hop addicts and fanatics
Poetry, that’s a part me
It runs through my veins from my arteries.
Words and thoughts dance in harmony,
Spilling over a page I engrave with a Pilot
Chiseling images of bloodbaths and riots
Staged coups by those who refuse to be used
Showdowns with tanks in Tiananmen Square
Revolution saturates the air; most are unprepared.
Suffocated with the status quo
But the average Joes
Have to know
The message behind the savage flow.
Springfield loaded
Every word quoted
Is a bullet screaming through the streets
Colliding with craniums
Is a black pearl intertwined with beats
And jam-packing stadiums
Journey through the jungle
As I blindly stumble
Towards the heart of darkness
A lumbering carcass
Body slain
Mind drained
Unrestrained pain engrained upon its plain terrain
Afraid to face the shame
Blaze the flame
Break the chains
And retake the reigns
Of my thoroughbred who refuses to obey a Mudblood
© 2007 Angad Bhai
The search for absolution
Staring into the eyes of redemption
I receive her blessing and continue my transgressions.
Guzzling communion wine
Unaware that I am doing time
In the prison of the mind.
I gaze at the moon and listen to its rhyme
As is glistens and it shines.
I provide substantial examples
Of what it means to battle with anvils
And medieval axes.
Grown man tactics
No pediatrics
Infants receive the blacklist from fascists brandishing automatics
My foe hides behind a mask, a plastic image
Melted swiftly with flames that cannot be extinguished
I watch them flicker and dance
I deliver and grant
Clemency to enemies
Unaware that they are endlessly
Enslaved to commonplace tendencies
Of the past few centuries
I diverge from my pedigree
Previous trends and methods
That I reject and discredit
An exquisite exhibit of explicit slick tips I issue to misfits
Rambunctious little hoodlums
Dedicated Muslims
Jews and Christians
Different schools of religion
Share the same prophets
But clerics only harp upon the toxic topics
Diluting the meaning
With their hooting and screaming
Blood spilling and killing
Claiming they are fulfilling
The work of God?
I am losing my composure
Far from sober
Days grow colder
My skin withered and older
Philosophy of a soldier
Forsaken by his nation
Like the Ronin, I am nomadic
Part-time peddling of addictive tidbits to hip-hop addicts and fanatics
Poetry, that’s a part me
It runs through my veins from my arteries.
Words and thoughts dance in harmony,
Spilling over a page I engrave with a Pilot
Chiseling images of bloodbaths and riots
Staged coups by those who refuse to be used
Showdowns with tanks in Tiananmen Square
Revolution saturates the air; most are unprepared.
Suffocated with the status quo
But the average Joes
Have to know
The message behind the savage flow.
Springfield loaded
Every word quoted
Is a bullet screaming through the streets
Colliding with craniums
Is a black pearl intertwined with beats
And jam-packing stadiums
Journey through the jungle
As I blindly stumble
Towards the heart of darkness
A lumbering carcass
Body slain
Mind drained
Unrestrained pain engrained upon its plain terrain
Afraid to face the shame
Blaze the flame
Break the chains
And retake the reigns
Of my thoroughbred who refuses to obey a Mudblood
© 2007 Angad Bhai
Christopher Columbus Revisited
In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue.
He was the drill, and the Natives got screwed.
Celebrate his journey, honor his name
But I assail him with an armada of shame.
Desperate for the glory, hungry for the gold;
Now listen intently as the true tale unfolds.
He visited various kings, soliciting money for his venture
Promising them fame and galleons laden with treasure
beyond measure; and so he applied the pressure.
But none consented; they rejected his proposal
And so he confronted the Spanish and became more vocal:
“Everlasting respect along with infinite glory;
You will give birth to a time-honored story.
A tale of discovery against all odds,
but destined for success as ordained by God.”
Ferdinand was swayed so he caved and paid,
unaware of the children yet to be slain.
Columbus inspected the cannons and loaded the rifles,
Stocked his ship with supplies and copies of the Bible.
“Civilize the savages and Christianize the cannibals;
They will embrace Christ and cease living like animals.”
And he sailed, scurvy and typhoid abound,
Dreaming of riches, his mind heavy from their pounds.
Once he landed, he promptly demanded audience with their leaders.
Cynics of this story must agree; he was not the pleasantest of greeters.
Natives were fascinated with creatures from other lands
and so they decided to befriend, offering an extended hand.
“I did not even say please, but I already have them on their knees.
My gifts of exotic food, toys, and blankets
will be poisoned with disease to incite the panic.”
A treacherous plot to overtake the natives;
Scholars agree that his methods were creative.
Biological warfare was his original invention.
Hitler and Mussolini had similar intentions.
Many a village was pillaged while women were raped,
but from public criticism he undoubtedly escaped.
© 2007 Angad Bhai
He was the drill, and the Natives got screwed.
Celebrate his journey, honor his name
But I assail him with an armada of shame.
Desperate for the glory, hungry for the gold;
Now listen intently as the true tale unfolds.
He visited various kings, soliciting money for his venture
Promising them fame and galleons laden with treasure
beyond measure; and so he applied the pressure.
But none consented; they rejected his proposal
And so he confronted the Spanish and became more vocal:
“Everlasting respect along with infinite glory;
You will give birth to a time-honored story.
A tale of discovery against all odds,
but destined for success as ordained by God.”
Ferdinand was swayed so he caved and paid,
unaware of the children yet to be slain.
Columbus inspected the cannons and loaded the rifles,
Stocked his ship with supplies and copies of the Bible.
“Civilize the savages and Christianize the cannibals;
They will embrace Christ and cease living like animals.”
And he sailed, scurvy and typhoid abound,
Dreaming of riches, his mind heavy from their pounds.
Once he landed, he promptly demanded audience with their leaders.
Cynics of this story must agree; he was not the pleasantest of greeters.
Natives were fascinated with creatures from other lands
and so they decided to befriend, offering an extended hand.
“I did not even say please, but I already have them on their knees.
My gifts of exotic food, toys, and blankets
will be poisoned with disease to incite the panic.”
A treacherous plot to overtake the natives;
Scholars agree that his methods were creative.
Biological warfare was his original invention.
Hitler and Mussolini had similar intentions.
Many a village was pillaged while women were raped,
but from public criticism he undoubtedly escaped.
© 2007 Angad Bhai
Preachy
The places I’ve been
The faces I’ve seen
Now just seem
Like traces of dreams.
A man searching for anything that
erases the scenes
of sacred unspoken hatred that has left me broken and naked,
writhing in the filth that I wallowed in,
haunted by the guilt that I swallowed when
this misfit existed in that less-than-great state.
My mind suffocated in a skull too thick,
My soul laid to rest in some ancient chest; the lock I couldn’t pick.
The pain was directed and pressurized when
my brain was infected and mesmerized,
scouring the towering cities for something to keep me energized.
Bullshitisms were endless like a babbling brook
until a stray thought caught my attention like a grappling hook.
I sharpened my focus and noticed:
If you’ve never been in a crisis,
tormented by sins and vices,
but feel it is your right to be righteous,
then you’re like a man blessed with the eyes of eagles, but remains sightless.
Hollow virtues inevitably hurt you when you let humility desert you.
Whether on Wall Street handling stocks
Or a street corner slanging rocks
Whether rich, middle class, or you only have a little cash
Whether a Jew, Christian, or Muslim
A president, policeman, or hoodlum
We all must admit that the odds are stacked against us.
And I pray for a reincarnation of God to come back and defend us.
Billions of civilians, we have the capacity
but lack the tenacity to restructure the system drastically.
Bureaucrats and senators are predators,
Trying to make us victims of the intricate system.
Perhaps an appeal to the infinite wisdom?
Confronting our misery and its long history, the song of victory
can’t be sung until we find a champion that can understand the young.
One who speaks the mother tongue, but unafraid to learn other ones,
unlike this sinister minister, preaching and injecting his hostile gospel.
That’s not to say I haven’t given thanks to the Americans
That toil among the ranks of Samaritans,
But it’s rather convenient
That one people’s punishment is relatively lenient
While the other is stripped of opportunities for achievement.
I wish to rejoice with renewed jubilation,
Speaking in the voice of true communication,
Conveying the only language that can vanquish pain and anguish: service.
With service I find my purpose in writing these verses;
They are a dedication to those who sacrificed lives without pause or hesitation
so that we today can have cause for celebration.
For them, I express the freedom fighter’s will
Through the ink that bleeds from the lonely writer’s quill.
© 2007 Angad Bhai
The faces I’ve seen
Now just seem
Like traces of dreams.
A man searching for anything that
erases the scenes
of sacred unspoken hatred that has left me broken and naked,
writhing in the filth that I wallowed in,
haunted by the guilt that I swallowed when
this misfit existed in that less-than-great state.
My mind suffocated in a skull too thick,
My soul laid to rest in some ancient chest; the lock I couldn’t pick.
The pain was directed and pressurized when
my brain was infected and mesmerized,
scouring the towering cities for something to keep me energized.
Bullshitisms were endless like a babbling brook
until a stray thought caught my attention like a grappling hook.
I sharpened my focus and noticed:
If you’ve never been in a crisis,
tormented by sins and vices,
but feel it is your right to be righteous,
then you’re like a man blessed with the eyes of eagles, but remains sightless.
Hollow virtues inevitably hurt you when you let humility desert you.
Whether on Wall Street handling stocks
Or a street corner slanging rocks
Whether rich, middle class, or you only have a little cash
Whether a Jew, Christian, or Muslim
A president, policeman, or hoodlum
We all must admit that the odds are stacked against us.
And I pray for a reincarnation of God to come back and defend us.
Billions of civilians, we have the capacity
but lack the tenacity to restructure the system drastically.
Bureaucrats and senators are predators,
Trying to make us victims of the intricate system.
Perhaps an appeal to the infinite wisdom?
Confronting our misery and its long history, the song of victory
can’t be sung until we find a champion that can understand the young.
One who speaks the mother tongue, but unafraid to learn other ones,
unlike this sinister minister, preaching and injecting his hostile gospel.
That’s not to say I haven’t given thanks to the Americans
That toil among the ranks of Samaritans,
But it’s rather convenient
That one people’s punishment is relatively lenient
While the other is stripped of opportunities for achievement.
I wish to rejoice with renewed jubilation,
Speaking in the voice of true communication,
Conveying the only language that can vanquish pain and anguish: service.
With service I find my purpose in writing these verses;
They are a dedication to those who sacrificed lives without pause or hesitation
so that we today can have cause for celebration.
For them, I express the freedom fighter’s will
Through the ink that bleeds from the lonely writer’s quill.
© 2007 Angad Bhai
Monday, January 22, 2007
Beware of this Terrorist
On trains, buses and planes,
They put an asterisk by my name.
Beware of this derelict terrorist; he doesn’t care a bit
About the lives of the innocent
Son of filthy immigrants;
Can he even speak English?
Allow me to retort:
I’m a distinguished linguist.
My reservoir of verbs and nouns is so profound the oceans drown
In its depths
An army of uneducated teens with shattered shields
Whimpers and stumbles as it meets me on the battlefield,
The terrain of my brain where guilt and shame find no quarter;
A supernatural, transnational plane, unbounded by borders.
Unleashing speech and inflicting diction
Upon Bigotry and Racists, Misery and Hatred
IGNORANCE runs the streets naked, fleeing from my X-ray vision;
No division or indecision tests my conviction in this religion.
Journey through a better way
But sometimes led astray
In my mediations of yesterday
Fueled by feuds that my ancestors suffered
Every word they uttered
Was a prayer to the afterlife
As they paid with their lives for their sacrifice.
And here my people slouch, grovel, and cower
Begging for acceptance, subjected to the power
Of the intricate system
But the infinite wisdom I find in the text
Forces me to remember; I’m nothing less than blessed.
© 2007 Angad Bhai
They put an asterisk by my name.
Beware of this derelict terrorist; he doesn’t care a bit
About the lives of the innocent
Son of filthy immigrants;
Can he even speak English?
Allow me to retort:
I’m a distinguished linguist.
My reservoir of verbs and nouns is so profound the oceans drown
In its depths
An army of uneducated teens with shattered shields
Whimpers and stumbles as it meets me on the battlefield,
The terrain of my brain where guilt and shame find no quarter;
A supernatural, transnational plane, unbounded by borders.
Unleashing speech and inflicting diction
Upon Bigotry and Racists, Misery and Hatred
IGNORANCE runs the streets naked, fleeing from my X-ray vision;
No division or indecision tests my conviction in this religion.
Journey through a better way
But sometimes led astray
In my mediations of yesterday
Fueled by feuds that my ancestors suffered
Every word they uttered
Was a prayer to the afterlife
As they paid with their lives for their sacrifice.
And here my people slouch, grovel, and cower
Begging for acceptance, subjected to the power
Of the intricate system
But the infinite wisdom I find in the text
Forces me to remember; I’m nothing less than blessed.
© 2007 Angad Bhai
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