One half of me is covered by insurance
and one half of me
supplemented at the end of this poem.
Staple me to this poem.
Yesterday I went to Mi'raj, in the metro tunnel
when I got off, I was the prophet of the next station
A prophet who left no message, after hearing the beep.
Hung up the phone
and into the camera, he stared
and said: I choose the Emerson 2-door fridge for it is both spacey and subsisting
The rain turned severe
the sky, white
the workers were busy working
and I was scoffing my lunch
father martyred on TV.
O Sun
do tell
can you bear falling
down from that height
jingling
into my coppery bowl?
Up until now
my only income has been
in your comings.
I will go
to wherever it goes
with wherever it can
into the slough.
To the sun
I will say
hello
to the rivers
farewell.
I will flip
the bird to the sky.
O my suffering
without taking in a syringe
how come you came into being?
O my Passions
o
aw
how were you frequented?
Staple me to my cross.
A cross that had lost its flesh in Libya
had escaped temptations by choosing
a safe brand in electric wall-heaters
its blood had heated
dripping
from here
to
Sudanese civil wars.
But, having hung up the phone
having thanked the respectable pundits of the show
he turned off the camera, and came restlessly towards me
in came the scent of gladiola and jasmine.
We brought the last obstacle, the last monster to justice
and saved the princess from her stir
gained lemons in return
and together
we got into the limousine
we became the blessed yes
we became the blessed
we became the blessed