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A poem about an erstwhile friend
To Poland With Love
by Kaleem Raja
I want nothing
I need nothing
Because it is nothing
That you have to give.
Come with nothing
Left with nothing
You reduced everything
Light dimmed to black.
And it is back into nothingness that you go.
You can go
I say go
Beseech you my dear
And I do dare demand.
There is no place to which you I would follow,
Despite all your borrowed robes,
For all your tomorrows were merely my yesterdays.
Are you lost in your self-absorbed haze?
You are the reason and treason that casts shadows over what is to live.
When the cracks have into chasms blown.
And the tears have their tracks found
I will hail and holler
Look Ma no hands, see. Send in the clowns
At your own speed of mind
You’re a photo finish in a one-horse town,
You are the horse they put down.
Regardless of those that turned their backs on you, it is widely known of course
You were alone,
You were heroine
Bubbling on a teaspoon over a candle flame.
Final battles that did decide all fates.
Swings and slides made of credulous sensibilities,
Made death traps of downy cradles.
All must to their demons abide.
To this I resign and you will find
Me impervious as I reside
Over your intelligence which is merely zero dimension
In space and time
A by-product of straightened hair and vaselined grin
And subject to all post-Christmas slimming djinns
And the man who would be father to your kids
And all your hang-ups did
Ask you, did he not, “Are you worthy?”
Sure you are, a question hardly.
Yes that is you of a season, of a reason that makes a mere cog of you
And in your simple mind
You appease those that hold the reigns and make of blind men kings.
That keep you in the pains to which your accustomed
And the revolver that decides a life worth living
And makes a mere childish fool of you.
They are what matter
In your law and world order
At a pace that you can handle.
Go to them, to them who swindle
You to the begging bowl
And to the leg of their throne
And the sacred hem they claim they own.
Go back deep to the sleep
That you say serves you best,
Drags you to the edge of the abyss
Where you hit your verve and replenish your vim
And another still born, another hero falls
Over breast in blood and guts, sinew and slime.
All your hopes and fears come down in time.
I have ripped out of conformity
Upon which I happily place the crown
While all the world drowns
And I stand proud - an abdicated king in beggars rags
Against the flotsam and foam tide
Long after you have drowned and died.