1000th Day in Drapchi Solitary Confinement
chadwick
up my ass Posts: 21,157
I am not the author of this.
I found this by looking for some
Dalai Lama poetry.
Then I found a site http://www.tibetwrites.org
this is where this poem came from.
Author: Bhuchung D. Sonam
If you only drag me out
I’ll accept all your accusations
And sign the confession documents.
NO. I don’t need to be forced
I am physically a broken man.
But of course you can practise
Your new round-kicks on me
I am a lifeless mass.
I feel hot in this cold cell
I hear voices in the silence.
My ruptured life is
Bombarded by fragmented images
My bleeding nose smells
Aroma of incense long burnt out
Curling blue smoke lingers
In my hazy mind.
I am addicted to shock-waves
Please prod me with your electric-baton.
Why is there no sting in your voice today?
Clear your vocal chords, redden your face
Show veins on your neck, gnarl your nose
I like to hear a real shout.
Hit harder on my belly
Hang me upside down
It drives me high that way
It helps focus my mind on a single object
I can see Buddha more clearly.
Red stars on your shoulder are fading
Snow lions are wriggling hard
Upon the high windy pass
Are these illusions, delusions or imaginations?
Drag me out of this darkness
And I will sign the confession.
There is nothing left of me
Except the truth languishing in my mind.
I found this by looking for some
Dalai Lama poetry.
Then I found a site http://www.tibetwrites.org
this is where this poem came from.
Author: Bhuchung D. Sonam
If you only drag me out
I’ll accept all your accusations
And sign the confession documents.
NO. I don’t need to be forced
I am physically a broken man.
But of course you can practise
Your new round-kicks on me
I am a lifeless mass.
I feel hot in this cold cell
I hear voices in the silence.
My ruptured life is
Bombarded by fragmented images
My bleeding nose smells
Aroma of incense long burnt out
Curling blue smoke lingers
In my hazy mind.
I am addicted to shock-waves
Please prod me with your electric-baton.
Why is there no sting in your voice today?
Clear your vocal chords, redden your face
Show veins on your neck, gnarl your nose
I like to hear a real shout.
Hit harder on my belly
Hang me upside down
It drives me high that way
It helps focus my mind on a single object
I can see Buddha more clearly.
Red stars on your shoulder are fading
Snow lions are wriggling hard
Upon the high windy pass
Are these illusions, delusions or imaginations?
Drag me out of this darkness
And I will sign the confession.
There is nothing left of me
Except the truth languishing in my mind.
for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
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Are full of passionate intensity." - Yeats