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Writers Corner

Change of State?

Eritrea is just a stage
a platform from here to there 
a land where no one knows
who is who and where

You can upstage a state anytime
without all that jazz
change the scenery
straight from frozen liquid to gas



Real for Real

And the menacing threats to skin me alive
That played in my head
In my solitary cell
Were also unreal
My mother’s prayers to the saints are always real
They won’t save me but may wipe her tears
This noose around my neck is real
You…who sit watching
Are you for real?



Let Me Go

Like swords; the lines are drawn
As the ink hesitates to let itself; drop

The hand; on the other hand
Waits to make up its mind

In the meantime; a blank page
Like a wild dog; is barking in rage

Write me; or put me down




the roots; would you believe
say; from up on air
sound like twigs; planted upside down

the young are wasted
as the old wither
in a land laid bare; abandoned




My Vote

Blessed I go
to sign a golden record
of a vote that carries a note.
Incredibly the first to me
to the most it may not be.
My vote that has a note came from remote
crossing through deserts and seas
where ideas flow and winds blow
with no compass nor a boat
leaving a trail of wishes and ashes
of the original source and direction.



Phantom Pain

so they fly away; legs, lungs and livers
hearts and kidneys
as if they never had; eyes or ears
others laugh; behind sliding screens
in oblivion; as people lose their minds
in clinical dress; to show off their phantom skins
as body parts are put for sale; in so many pieces

(Photo: Images from the Sinai)




a shadow of a dead soul
drained of blood; wounded in a battle lost
bared to the bone; a face-print of a dark mask
gazes; with eyes gone blank

what beast; monster of a kind
would commit such a crime
what culture; so dead and blind
would sit around and waste the time




this deafening silence
speaks volumes; by its very absence
of speech lost; nowhere to be found
zero tolerance; even for smoking sound

it creeps instead
for fear of waking the dead
holding its breath
like a worm buried in soft earth



Frozen Words

just for once
why not take a chance
to unfreeze these frozen state; of words at stake
in the underground
to hold and cherish; the power of their sound
just to feel what it feels like
only to listen to their vocals; unbound


a click; of a lock
long dead; just another click-clock
a key of time immemorial; rot in rust
for a prison door that opens
the gate of a world
for an avalanche of words; for an uproar
of crying rivers and running waters
yet unheard; beyond those walls



Remember November

on the eleventh of November
the eleventh hour
of two thousand eleven
11 11 11
to end a war
that never ends
all over the places
localities and hideouts
for a cause
forgotten in remembrance




Dearly Departed

Prison walls
Torture chambers
Desert torturers
An angry dark tide
In the dead of night
Eerie lonely frozen streets
Fiery eyes and cold gaze
And so I live and you don’t?
one survives and the other not…
Is my luck a blessing or a curse?
Was your life a tragedy or prophesy?
Were your parents merely unfortunate?
Are mine a sign of our times?
You are dead I am not
Is there a difference?




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23.04.2014 المنتدى

ድምጺ መድረኽ - 22.04.2014

ድምጺ መድረኽ - 20 04 2014


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