To leave, let go
So that noone will know
What I am, where I’m headed
Or the list of names that dreaded
Me from first, tried to hold me at bay
And tell me, “Look, you’re cute
You can speak”, but your say
Can be had, but in its way
It has to be slanted so it may
Sound like what I have in mind.
Oh, how kind, little democrat, oh, how kind
You let me speak. Cos, the expression even by a word
Is a sidekick for the weak.
I wanna go, walk out in strides
That not your feeble law abides
Anymore — “Anymore” is what you say
When you cannot produce no more.
To be rattled by your ruffles,
To be muffled by your hooting.
To pretend that it ain’t rubber studs
You discharge when you’re shooting.
In Aleppo, where the Moor
Caught by the beard and smote a Jew
I went and I saw no fresh blood smeared
But, the stale blood of me; of you.
And as blood dries in our vibrant veins
As your orders sink in now, we are restless,
Yes we are — cos we, too, live to love.
If I may walk, when the noon is high,
Summon my spirit to break away
With only the pockets to comfort my wrists,
Leaving out what mayn’t or may; I may,
After all, seek what’s pure in the world
I’m seeking. Even if it is to fail and falter
For whatever it may take, than to be your cleric
And it is that spirit I seek, in a balanced world,
Where the fear of gambling produces
Over and over again, the Getty image
Of the Romantic rebel that loses out
And if there is a doubt you shouldn’t move
Though in staying static you sure don’t groove.
To leave, then; to walk away and to run
To the wilderness; to you.