I gave pain an anesthetic sick of seeming pathetic
Cutting misery’s spleen with claws of wolverine
I threw melancholy off the tenth floor balcony

Agony I do ignore as she bleeds on the mahogany floor
Oh, such deeds are chaotic, maybe I’m psychotic
Or maybe I’m saving me with this vivid imagery
My smiles no longer a bastard, in me look what he’s mastered

Tonight, I give my pen to laughter, as she writes this chapter
No more waiting for the sun to rise I can close my eyes

I know it will be a surprise to you
Receiving this hopeful note of plea
Form our war torn Sierra Leone
It is me, your friend, Mohammed
Consider how I lost my right foot
A price I paid to the rebel war.

You will be blessed to give constantly
Your descendants will prosper unceasingly
To third, fourth and fifth generations
For the assistance you caused to be
To acquire this artificial limb of mine
That drags me along desolated byways

Genitive, dative, ablative, the babble sound of Latin verbs,
their rhythmical grimace, their declension.
Yet the lilt, the sway, the dance of vowels,
that mesmerise the mind, entice, amuse.

The music of mankind, their many vocal songs,
each land their dialect, their form of phrase,
all from the human throat, the mouth, the nose,
each utterance its own expression as air goes in, goes out.

It is sitting on a mountain away from all the man-made distractions
It is enjoying a flower
Deep in thought, with no interactions

It is the art of Cha-Do, seven basic concepts
A doorway shortened
So one leaves behind what they possess

The polite refusal of the first drink
Done to show humility and respect
And whose participants share a common, humble link.

It is the calm after the storm
The balancing of Qi
A stepping back from the norm