Let's Go Places

Let's go places we never been
Leap over circadian clock  
Hip-hop cascading slopes
Beat-box to the rhythm of our feet

Let's sway, through the narrow alley
Caress your auricular nervous
Until I see the crescent moon 
harbored on the corner of your Pupils,
And lit your transparent heart.

Rock me to the sun
Echo my silence
Give me to the wind, 
but, kiss me not; until my return.

Have faith darling...
Reach out to your obedient God
Yeah..., there...
Do you see? a piece of you, 
In a whole a lot of me?

Dani, 5/14/2014

The Moon & The Sea

Explanation About The Inception of This Poem:

I am not usually a fan of explaining the thoughts or feelings for the inception of a poem. I think there is beauty and fulfillment for the mind to explore the values and weights of each word it reads as capable as it is imagining it. There is freedom in knowing, you are righteous in the definition that you agreed with your inner self. Freedom from your thoughts not being restricted by the writer, because otherwise you might get a sense of you are just making things up, how could you be right in interpreting something that the writer didn’t mean.

So this is how these few words came to be scratched on a paper of which contained list of names on the other side. I wrote it in about 10 minutes and there is a little left over maybe I will make that parse, that I might make part II to this. Imagine being in the U.S.A and taking a migrant to his/her first job interview. Now assume, you wish that individual a different job than that, but opportunities are limited. You sit there and watch and wonder, what must be the thoughts and feelings of the migrant individual trying to get this job.

I agree with myself that this poem as having two or more contrasting interpretations to it. Because you do not really know the individual’s feelings; whether he/she is eager to obtain this job and would be happy, or wishes he/she had never left his/her homeland or anything in between. You can ask but really, words are not going to do the inner feelings justice anyway, not to mention there might be a language barrier to communicate to begin with.

ONE side of the INTERPRETATION is: the feeling of traveling in a high spirit having the moon is a guide, but obviously not preferred; because the moon comes out at night and if one has the choice, people would rather travel with the sun during the day. You travel with the moon “Up to the white sandy shore” this is meant to indicate you can no longer travel afar from the shore perhaps an indication of class and wealth, because those who have means to travel on the sea they sure can. “Made love to the whispering breeze | With all my two billion pores…” you arrive at your final destination to where you no longer have a path or hope to travel hence you are alert yet overwhelmed with the amount of stimulation/information/cultural gap etc. Just about everything is new to you. Actually I initially had the line saying, “With all my two billion naked pores…” but it felt painful to be so unprotected and I dropped the naked word out. For the record, I remember reading somewhere apparently science would like us to know the average human body has just a little above two billion pores, just fyi ☺ but I stand to be corrected.

And the last stanza…

“I kneeled before the dancing sea

For its solvent chloride to marry me.”

I thought the individual would be so broken down inside, that, it has come to this, the life of America that he/she dreamt of from a distant but familiar homeland isn’t really what he/she is finding and has no choice but to be broken down with an inescapable power of the sea. Why is this inescapable? Because, if you are in the sea, the sea is the homogenous, you are the outlier (you are the different one in their) and you can hardly fight your way out of a violent/dancing sea. Therefore, your best bet is to accept your defeat, kneel down to the power that be and allow yourself to immerse in the environment, despite the taste of the sea salt.

THE SECOND side of the INTERPRETATION is: Life is wonderful and you are living above the ground and below the Heavens, hence why you would travel along side of the moon. Until, you got something else that captivates you even better and let the moon do its travel on her own. White sandy shore, I would think would give people the sense of purity and joy because it is followed with a complete euphoria that awakens your entire being. You are making love arguably the highest form of ecstasy. There in the dancing sea, you would not want to let this pass but be entwined with it for the rest of your days. The salt gives the sea, a taste it is no longer salt and water, these elements has dissolved into each other and the blessed individual would want to be in that state therefore wishing and begging to be part of that happiness.

The image along with the poem hardly depicts hardship and one might ask why? Well, my thought was, the image is visible to the public, anyone passing by can see it, and so if you think about taking a sample of the over 300 million people living in the U.S.A and ask them how they think migrants life is like here in the states compared to wherever they came from? I bet most people would think migrants life must be quite wonderful to be in the US far away from what ever place they came from and what ever reason it was they came here to avoid. In that sense life would seem nothing less than jubilation. I would believe that would reflect the view of the majority if you were to take a survey; yes, perhaps quite accurate or irony to an immigrant actually living it. 

Last but not least, I have a favor to ask, 1. Would your preference been with the inclusion of the explanation or with out it & 2. Would you mind sharing why?

Waiting in Vain by Bob Marley

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ukRwPRxYi0 —

Elfnesh

I hope and pray that someday I will be blessed to marry a woman who will bear us a daughter who will in turn resemble fraction of you. I have heard of angels, but I have never seen them smile, walk or talk. I just know you Elf.nesh, the definition of humility, with a heart that of an innocent child. The closer I am to you, the joyous I am on this Earth. Your caressing fingertips reinvigorate life; your presence conquers the peace, you live love not in words but in silence.

Your beaming pupils emit grace & dignity with care and affection /
Your faith inscribed between those perfectly patterned wrinkles /
Your joy in abundance, always over flowing, smiles reflected from your infectious enamel teeth to gift it to the starving world /
Your love, your love is an addictive warm sensation of an oasis reservoir that flows through your calluses hands.

እልፍነሽ

የንጋቱን ፀዳል ቀድሞ - ኑሮ ሲፋለመኝ
የማይነጠቅ ነጥቆ - ራቆቴን ሲለቀኝ

ብሌኖችሽን ሳይ - ጨለማው ጭልጥ አለ
ጥርሶችሽን ስመለከት - ፈገግታ ተረገዘ ፤ ሳቅም ገነፈለ

ትንፋስሽን ሳዳምጥ - ነገን ኣስተማረኝ
ጣቶችሽ ሲዳብሱኝ - ሂወት ዘሩልኝ

እልፍነሽ - እልፍፍፍፍፍ-ነሽ!
የደስታዬን ተካፋይ - የፍቅር ፏፏቴ
ቀና ብለሽ እስክታዪኝ -ይሄው አደግኩልሽ
ፍቅርን ያስተማርሽኝ - ኣብሮ ኣደግ ፤ ሁለተኛ እናቴ።

እወ ዓብየልኪ

ወዮ ዕሸል ነይረ - ግርም ሎሚ ነዊሐኪ
ዓይኒ ዓይነይ - ብፍሽኽታ ኣንቃዕሪርኪ
የመና ደኒቁኪ - መስኖይ ተሓጒስኪ

ወዮ ዕሸል ነይረ - ድጋም ኢለ ግማሽ
በፂሐዮ ጣይታ - ብሩኽ ኢድ እልፍነሽ

ክንዲ ኣደይ ክንዲ ሓፍተይ
ክንዲ ኹሉ ዓባዬይ ማሓዛይ።

- Daniel

Poetically Prismatic

All alone on my own

Searching for thee unknown

I have traveled afar from the shore

Willing but unconscious what I search for

Carried by the wave with out a clue

Now I’m lost in this vast sea of blue

Lonely and scared w/out a choice N guide

In a naked violent sea, ain’t no place to hide

Voiceless only inner contemplation

Wondering if I will ever find my destination,

but I sure know, the storm of the sea

Is passionately destined to destroy me

My physical state might be due

But my soul will still search for the true…

My mind’s poetic chaos is insanely lunatic

Yet in-between dreams…

Vivid and poetically prismatic.

Cheers,

Daniel

The Price of Standing Up For The Truth

This post is dedicated to the poet Nguyen Chi Thien.

My heart, that endless story, is something

That only a child will understand, love and like

He will not fully grasp its profundity or richness

But will instinctively share its marvelous quality.

My heart? It’s the pen, inkstand and paper tube

Of a gentleman-scholar unlucky at the exams

Left in a corner to gather dust and dream….

The above poem is an excerpt from a poem titled My Heart by Nguyen Chi Thien’s from his book where you can read more of his poems Flowers From Hell.

Who is Nguyen Chi Thien? Born in 1939 Thien was one of the greatest contemporary Vietnamese poets, who died exactly a year ago on October 2^nd 2012 at the age of 73. Thien had spent 27 years (equal to that of Nelson Mandela’s) of his life in prison and good amount of these years in a solitary confinement. Why? Because he refused to accept the North Vietnamese Communist leader Ho Chi Minh as a hero and Communism as paradise. As Margalit Fox wrote on the New York Times, “It was not the isolation that was hardest to endure, though it lasted nearly three decades. Nor was it the cold of his cell, where he was often chained naked, nor summer’s blistering heat, nor the rusty shackles that infected his legs, nor the relentless hunger. It was, Nguyen Chi Thien said afterward, the utter lack of access to the written word: no books, no newspapers and, more devastating still for a poet, not so much as a pencil or a scrap of paper.”

Let’s look into the history of poetry to put Mr. Thien's life in context. Poetry is widely accepted to have started during the early agricultural societies, spoken or chanted as a spell to promote good harvests as well as means to express the people's struggles and triumphs. The earliest known Western poetry comes from the legendary Homer who is attributed in writing the two epic masterpieces The Iliad and The Odyssey. Of course the Greeks also used poetry to communicate other thematic messages. Names of many revered writers from 500 BC and beyond are still recited and ring a bell when we hear and read their names such as Sophocles and Euripides. Epics such as France's La Chanson de Roland’s Beowulf from the Medieval period are still read (this was actually one of the books that was a required reading in my high school English class = I disliked it a lot) and Shakespeare’s works from the Renaissance Period of course lives on.

Perhaps the continuous use of poetry was nowhere ubiquitous as is in Vietnam. As reported on BBC, until the turn of the 20th century almost 95 percent of Vietnamese literature is believed to be in the form of poetry, even history books are sometimes written entirely in poetry. And in Vietnam, Thien is the most well-known and respected contemporary poets. The man is truly fascinating with a stubborn will for dignity and the truth. Thien, first got in trouble with the communist North Vietnamese government in the 1960s. He decided to substitute for his ailing high school history teacher and he realized the textbook stated Japan’s defeat in World War II was to the Soviet Union. Thien told the class that no, that was in fact not accurate, Japan surrendered to the US following the US dropping two atomic bombs in hiroshima and nagasaki. The 21 years old Thien was soon arrested and spent the better part of the next 27 years in different prisons and hard labor detention camps.

Thien, was not allowed and did not had the access to continue writing while in prison, but that did not stop him from writing, editing, storing and deleting his poems in his head. When he gets the opportunity he recited his poems to his close friends and mates he wrote some 700 poems this way. At one point, as the Economist reported, Thien took the risk to smuggled 400 of his poems to the British Embassy in Hanoi and begged them to have it published in the West. Though, the Brits rejected his request for asylum and the North Vietnamese government sent him to prison for 6 years for his attempt; his collection of poems was published as Flowers From Hell. The book has been translated to many languages and it won the International Poetry Award in Rotterdam in 1985.

Thien was freed in 1991 and went to the US in 1995, settled in Orange County CA aka in ‘little Vietnam’ where he published two more short stories and converted to Catholicism. Thien was also finally reunited with his brother (who fought on the South Vietnamese side) and had not seen each other since 1954.

The price some pay to stand up for the truth and one’s convictions is something that directly or indirectly affects us all.  As Dr. Martin Luther King eloquently wrote it once from a jail cell “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are all indebted to courageous people like Nguyen Chi Thien.

Cheers,

Daniel 

MELES OUR HERO

Our Ibex, our Lion

Our Aesop, our Falcon

Our slave, Ethiopia’s God’s gift,

Africa’s lawyer, just and fair

A lion in the jungle, but,

Soothing, fresh, breeze in the air

You will be remembered by history

As the living brain in a mighty library

Marxist at heart, fighter for equality

Lifelong soldier, to eradicate poverty

A new breed of a rare shining light

Selfless public servant day and night

The sun’s morning ray –

the Milk-way start’s dust

The guardian Angel - of my people’s trust.

Melesey, you had it all

Love - Knowledge - Vision - Dreams - Courage

Everywhere you went - you reinvented Ethiopia’s image

You made us proud; now, we are addicted to reciting our identity

‘I am from the land’ we say-

where the scientific facts say “cradle of humanity”

where culture is richer than human imagination

‘I am from the land’ we say-

where pride defines our name, & nationalism proves our fame

Where the happy colors Green, Yellow & Red, wave on a peaceful horizon

MELESEY, Our HERO, may the mighty bless your name.

Whether you were at home or in a foreign land

Right there on your side, we always wanted stand

To lend you a helping hand, to achieve your goals

To lay beneath you - should you stumble and fall

to share your vision - to learn your aim & scope

to watch you smile – for your fruits of long awaited hope

MELESEY

You are the victor in our direction -The momentum in our velocity

The focus of our telescope & the center of our galaxy;

You are the hydrogen in our fusion – The mass in our weight

The nuclei of our joy & the sun in our light

You are the root in our flower – the neurons in our brain

the tune of our music - the frequency of our beat.

The pulse of our breath - & the arteries in our hearts.

You are the line in our path – Alpha Omega of our being

During dawn and twilight - you are the shadow along our journey

The confidence in our drive  & the assurance in our stride.

You are the resiliency to our weakness - & the protector of our dreams

the feelings in our poem - the peace in our home

Our inspiration, the pendulum of our life - Our Hero, in all its meanings.

As you eloquently expressed it during our famine days

Today we return your heart felt tender words

Your departure has brought ‘the saddest time in our lives’

But you are the rain to our pain - and the cerebrum of our brain

the sun of our day - & the shining candlelight of our night

If I were a poet –

The dictionary would be my bible & I would memorize every word –

So I could write you, never-ending poems –

Until the ink in my pen saturates my entire papyrus

Or just like your revolutionary days

Until the forgotten lit cigarette burns my fingers…

But, even then, I would continue writing on the walls

With words & phrases that define you & moves others

Veracious & honest testaments

Even the deaf can sense their meanings

If I were a poet…

I would write you a poem with my blurry eyes,

As my tears would rain down my face

Spilling my passion and emotions on to my papers

Each word would carry immeasurable feelings.

I would write you a poem

For your genuine smile & your twinkling eyes

For your empathetic listening & ocean deep patience

For your articulate messages and world class intelligence

I would write you a poem –

For your kindness, humility and grace           

Your demand and quest for perfection

Never accepting anything less than our best

I would write you a poem –

Even for your clear and sharp glasses

Avid reader of those countless books.

I wish I were a poet –

I would write you a mesmerizing epyllion poem

Unequaled & lovelier than anything written before

I would be your G. E. Gorfu “Simple” yet magnificent 

I would be your Maya Angelou, perfecting my choice of words –

Clear & vibrant, like a morning dawn of an eastern horizon

I would be your Sibhat G/gziabhere, honesty & sincere –

Letting my thoughts flow unrestricted like an oasis - 

Emancipating from the abyss, & dripping through the end points of my fingers

Though, if I were a painter –

            I would be your Afewerk Tekle, and paint you a Canvas

            Larger than Ethiopia’s circumference

            A masterpiece of green yellow red & blue –

            that shines brighter than the rays –

            Perfect mix of all spectrum lights

            Even a blind man can feel,

            the wavelength of the happy colors.

I would want to be a choreographer though –

So I can create us unforgettable dance -

Allowing me to touch you and hold you close

Just like lovers, our fingers would fill in each other’s gaps

Resembling one, metaphorically synchronized & figuratively entwined 

As we lean & sway, we glide across the hall ever so effortlessly

Unrecognizable as two, impeccably inseparable elements

Just like Pluto, covalent bonds become history of the past

Our love, bond, and unity, sets a new standards!

Yet, I want to be a singer too! – Because I want to compose you a song –

Where the consonance defuses the dissonance

The cords & the notes everything would be in rhythm

I would write you a song one each for your tolerance & your perseverance

For your intellect, your strength and sea of knowledge

For your analytical ability and diplomatic persuasive ways

If I were a scientist -

I would be geologist and anthropologist

As I tenderly kiss your cultivated green leaves

I would step & walk your soil with grace -

While unearthing its inner beauty,

My body would shake (tremble) upon the touch of your embrace,

Knowing you represent pure love of my identity

You preach equality, proving we are all connected

Just first cousins of a one big family tree.

Yet, I would want to be a doctor and neurologist

So I can learn how to keep you alive for centuries

I want to trap your breath from escaping you to the heavens.

If I were a Neurologist, I would unzip my skull & let you in

to view the map of my brain & how much you occupy its residency,

If I were to let it out, it would stretch around the glob in search of your hug

Then I would imprison you, with in my embrace against my bosom;

As I close my eyes & sigh, a sign of speechless feelings –

           

But I want to be an athlete –

I would bear the pain to win a gold medal in your name

I would choose to be a runner-

so I can run & cover all the high & low lands

Where you have travelled too,

Increasing my pace, anxious to discover the next place

While my pulse, beats like Kebero & my sweat drips like the rain -

I would cross the centuries old flawless streams & rivers,

That has nurtured the ole’ mighty Nubians;

As it flow down north cleansing & baptizing everything on its way,

I would tell the Nile, no! no! no! you will no longer erode my land

First, you will pay your tribute here to my people at hand

Then, I would run nonstop brushing through the endless valley of vegetation,

Where the wind is in a peaceful harmony, against the slop & the water falls

I would rise to the mountaintop – to receive your words, from the blissful skies

You are my September’s Adey Abeba - ever so blossoming flower

You are the soul in our life - that blooms in infinite colors;

If I were gifted, I would write you a poem that becomes our national anthem

so the world could hear it sang, each & everyday -

As your shining GREEN YELLOW & RED happy colors lay

Horizontally, just & equally closer to the gods,

Way way high, up the mighty blue sky…

Humming a song, “WE ARE ONE”

It has been, and it will always be!!!

Although, our void is too deep to fill

A lifetime, too short for our pain to heal

our sorrow, too immense to cheer

Our Heaven, our Joy, is far and near

Our Heaven is far

        where it tends to our beloved dear

Our joy is near,

       Because, in millions his blossoming seeds are here.

I’m neither gifted nor a poet of a flawless biro

Just a lucky offspring to carry your torch – and call you my Hero

Your WORDS explain what you believe,

your ACTIONS shows what you weave,

your PASSION communicates to our soul

and your LOVE has pulled us all.

Your dreams are cultivated & kept deep

We are bestowed a nation to lead

and mighty promises to keep

Your vision and your nurturing deeds

Will sure ripe through your ever-

Promising seeds

With so much love in return, one out of many

Daniel Aug 2012

Your voice

Your voice,

like the nectar to the bee
is so sweet to melike a lover’s odor in the pillow
with me in my sleep
like the angels’ messenger
always, it hum and whispers
like a faithful believer
I am never alone

Your voice,
It quenches my thirst,
like the oasis of the African Sahara
the serenity of your voicereverberates my soul
like chanting bird on a valley

Your voice,
Effortless and soothing
Like Ethiopia’s early evening breeze
Flawless, like northern celestial starry nights
Lively, it injects the spirit of happiness
Your voice is the solace for my void

Your voice,
Is heavenly sent music of its own
Unmatchable like mother’s love

Unmistakable like traditional Chinese instrumental
Harmonic consonance like an Ethiopian saxophone
Mesmerizing like the tonic cords of Kirar
Fruitful and soulful like Begena

Your voice,
between dawn and the midnight tranquil
Yearning, I long to hear
for your voice is to me
a reservoir of smile at the end of my chaotic day

life line, as the pure Blue Nile is to the Nubians

Your voice,Is to me, a seed of life
I beg you, you limit it not

I want to hear your voice,Yet again, until we meet.

Aug 1, 09 Daniel.

Footnote:
Kirar:- Is an Ethiopian style of Lyre
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmfpRtdjSPc
Begena:- An Ethiopian style of Harp (usually used in the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahido Christian to praise God)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0aTSR0trkk&feature=fvsr

Crossroad of thoughts

The world is so kind, all it ask is African bloody diamonds

But they sure do pay back
Look at the “made in” AK-47s on the African children’s back
……………………………………………………..

Confused on a cross road, I passed Africa:
Searching for a wise teacher
A caring survival educator!
………………………………..………..

I don’t need to be cautious
to what I say
I am a wealthy parents’ boy
………………………………..………..

Driving down freedom lane
My ancient car’s paint dissolved
Off the pouring sulfuric rain
………………………………..………..

Possible and impossible
Are infinite miles apart?
Wait…no only two letters…
………………………………..………..

When life threatens me
With her greatest negativity
Faith is what carries me
………………………………..………..

The stars are so bright, so is the sun
But darkness whispering to me now
Where have they hid and gone?
………………………………..………..

[Oh so stupid that I am
I just realized, the sun is so bright
Only during the freaking daylight]
………………………………..………..

Before the afternoon’s shade of gray thought
Indeed we all wake up vacuous
In Black and White.
………………………………..………..

They asked for my father figure
And I responded “THAT TOO,
WAS MY LOVING MOTHER!!”
……………………………………..

© 07, Dani.

Darfur Sudan

On this dry land

Lonely I stand

In Darfur Sudan

In the middle of clustered shadow

There is no joy for me to show

Been next to my dead family for too long

Please don’t tell me to be “Strong”

For I’m a lifeless branch, without my family tree

Sinless and affectionate Jesus, I pray you save me

I look up and the sky is crystal clear

But the sun doesn’t seem to appear

Sinking on my own pond of tears

O’ Lord, please pull my soul near

All around me, countless dead bodies lay

And above me, black scavenger vultures sway

Reach out for me with your forgiving hand

And drug me out of this contaminated land

My vision’s blurry; I’m unable to see

My body’s weary off this in land bloody sea

Hoping to reunite with my family

In Heaven, in the eternal garden of Eden

I pray, you take me away

Take me away lord take me away.

Dani.

http://www.savedarfur.org/content