Soul
It pours hard
It’s bored to tears,
The bashed bird,
How the sky is dark
How the streets are bare
How the immense horizons
Turning narrow and dangerous
How its wet wings are heavy
Vulnerable and lone
Flapping in vain
Fearing the echoes of curse
That heard so far yet near
Fearing the storm that strikes
What stands in its course
Nothing to be done
Looking the firmament
-prayer to stay warm
And safe at home.
So-calledpoetry of Biba
So-called Poetry of Biba 