Bold Captain Gray comes down
To islands warm,
Where tawny men are chattel;
Sees brightly Patrick Spens
Survive a storm,
And wants to win the battle!

But when the cannon
Shots roar all 'round them
And punch a hole in th' aft deck;
Laments that Spens was found
A man too "holey"
Murmur around the carrack!

What were his last words,
Tell them to me boys,
Or I'll get raw with fury!
For Patrick owed your
Weight in Spanish coin;
God stablished I his jury!

But when the men had
Still not loosed their lips,
E'en under pain or menace;
Says Gray, what senators
Be these lads who still
Possess no fear of penance?

Then comes the lookout boy
From up above,
Where long the mast had held him;
Says, Patrick Spens just
Gave me his last word;
See here, it's writ on vellum!

Then up the captain roars...
And makes to burn the stores...
For tricks the crew had played...
With rage, the captain said:
     Beehive the rightless dogs, to hell ‘em,
     Give me the answer scrawled on vellum!

Like a famous man named Don Quixote
Early morning with words as a sword
I'm going right against the rightless crowd
Even Pansa is no longer here with his help
I ride Rosinante the indomitable mare
If only Dulcinea is on my side
Encourages me with her pretty smile
For the fight that i would surely win
These giant arms with stentor voices
Life is a long and every day fight
It's not time for the happy song
Here is a speech and madness for the morning fight
I do not want just to be right about the speech
Hey you giants without voice I challenge you
Today and every day until the end of the song
I am not any knight trust me i am a vigorous one
Even if I am a warrior with a sad figure
I have neither the time nor the leisure for joy
Take it easy as a morning fairless song
If you take my advise look for a jazz song
To make your day better then not to quarrel
For any useless reason at the end
I admit you have reason as a crowd
A crowd can **** any lion or a famous knight
Even the one named Don Quixotte !
The crowd has always the last argument!

I only want to talk with you,
To walk and spend an hour with you.
I only ask to see your smile,
Love you for a little while.

     But you say:

     It's not your turn
     To look for me,
     Or listen to me breathe.
     You will not touch;
     I will not hear
     The lie beneath the plea.

It's not for you I ask these things,
It's just my lonely disposition.
My situation's getting tough,
My demands are not so much.

     But you say:

     It's not your turn to stay awhile,
     I am not some listless child.
     Turn away you can't stay long,
     Your love is prematurely born.
     Go away.

And now these days lag
Like wounds,
That will not heal or seal my pain.
My need is more than I can endure.

     Yet you say:
  
     Offer some other church your money.
     Call some other Mary honey.
     Nail some other rightless wrong.
     Offer some other girl your song.
     Hoard it for the white-necked lay.
     You know you cannot stay.
     It's not your turn today.
     It's not your turn.
     Turn away.

you caught me
red handed
being my mothers daughter
re-enacting the fugue of
my childhood
rummaging thru the basement
for some irony
that i am not a thirty year old
replica of her

i hand you everything
that you demand
admit i am wrong
and you threaten me anyway
because it makes you feel strong
arms crossed
poised for a fight
petulant
because that is
the only thing
i refuse to give you

you dont want my apology
you dont do acceptance
you wont look me in the eyes
unless you are breathing fire
in my face
casually destroying me

it wont take justice
it wont take honesty
it wont take anything
to redeem me
because to you
i am rightless
inhuman
as if i were never born
but i was
and to the wrong woman

you would just like to remind me
that i am living on
borrowed time
but i know
my whole life has been
borrowed

your threats leave me vacant
nothing you can say
fills me more with fear
than my past
a basement full
of food stamps
welfare checks
food banks
good will
and the will to survive
starting from conception

feral kitten to
feral cat
cardboard box to
cardboard box
lost and found
collected
abandoned
looking thru whats left behind
for some kind of future
i am sorry your
8 thousand dollar life
was witness to my own
complicated by my
impoverished
deprived
depravity
forgive me
for troubling you

They manipulate
Locked behind  
The mental gate
Devoid of slumber
Just a number
Are you happy  
With your fate?
From your birthday
To your grave
Nothing but a slave

Shakeel Khan Copyright Shakeel Khan© 2024 all rights reserved