The Faceless Man

As thousands stroll through the streets
A Glance of knowing is far too rare.
Is it too much to ask who you are?
My faceless men, with a thousand face

I look deeply into every eye past,
Silently speaking of my hunger through my glance.
Although inside me, the cry is blinding,
For clothes, for food, for a kind word.

As I search for those familiar features, that once held me warm in arms,
A fraction of the pain pounding my heart, trickles down as tears.
For my world has crumbled, and I am lost
I lost my face,
Now I am as faceless as them.

Like fingers passing through a candle's flame, unflinching,
I am not able to touch, the countless you,
Does it hurt not to be seen?
When God gave us all, the gift to see.

The Box

Liberation is a myth with a thousand feathers
Bright and colorful, spread towards the sky
Seducing men like sirens at the sea

Progress was a promise never to be unbroken
A path cut by time and not human

Love is butter that melts,
In the very warmth it was made

Culture is societies pride and dagger
That nourishes and bleeds it the same

Science was never to be told
But discovered for mans endless end

For years human have found boxes
And boxes we stay inside
From ancient to medieval, medieval to modern,
All at the same now

Death was the only way out
Yet we seem to fight against it.

The Wise Page

Living for an eternity
Hidden among my siblings
I long for a touch, a look,
My few minutes of fresh air

My cheer is long lost
For many of my brothers have withered away
Frightened the wisdom tattooed on me
Is waiting to fade away in time

Nostalgic am I sometimes
On the day I was born in the press
We clapped aloud .. As stories were born
A dark pride filled my heart
For we are not for illiterates

Fools we were when destiny whispered before our creation
That showcases are our coffin
Now sitting on a vanity bookshelf, Stacked body over body
Unbearable is the smell of rotten death

I wait to see my love, curious eyes, 
Flip me over once more, kind fingers,
And I shall rest in peace
Never to complain again.

Soap Poem

Bought you for 20 a piece.
It was a pleasure to rub you against me
Cleaning my dirt away
Borrowing your fragrance... just for a little while

Bought you for 30 a piece
Treated you for as a slave for life
Till you wear away into the drain
Borrowing your fragrance... for a few steps in the sun

Bought you for 40 a piece
Wore you off till too small for a palm
And then you slipped off with whatever body left
A leap for escape? Last leap of Faith?

No! For the sick bastard soul in you,
Wanted a last laugh seeing me
Bend over, running for the slippery you
Foam over my wet hairy butt

Could hear you snigger as I put soap on my face..