Monday, February 22, 2010

TERRORISTS IN THE CLASS

Terrorists in the class? Panicked? Oh my god, what will happen now? They are taking the students as hostages. They are going to demand something bigger what is difficult to provide but still we have to do because we want the students, the future of our country safe. The next day headlines will be “Terror struck the college, students taken as hostage, demanding ….”
Who is a terrorist? A terrorist is simply a person who creates terror; a terrorist not necessarily comes from Pakistan or Taliban. He has no religion. A terrorist is a terrorist only.
What the hell the terrorists are doing inside the class? Point to ponder. The lecturer and the students are in there.
The lecture was teaching a subject called “ERP & E-Commerce”. Some terrorists were already present in the class and a few other intruders entered after fifteen minutes of the commencement of the class. They had not planned for anything bigger. They just wanted to go as usual. Generally they bomb public places or target areas, try to kill people to create terror. But these were very gracious by nature; they didn’t try to kill anyone inside. They just wanted the class to stop.
They were gossiped among themselves. Some one was beating the desk in a very unnatural rhythm. These activities became quite unbearable for the one who was teaching in front of 60 students in the class. He rushed to them and furiously fired,” What the hell you people think of yourselves? What’s going on? Why you back bare disturbing the whole class?” They would perhaps take their AK47s out and shoot him. But nothing such happened. They sat dumbfounded and silently. The lecturer was going back to teach. He paused and returned to them. “You people are terrorists. You know who are terrorists? Those who break the peace are called terrorists.”
He scolded the last two rows as if we were real terrorists. It set me to think. “We are terrorists. Never had I thought about that. Should I feel proud because I am one of them?”
“Why only the students sitting on the back benches? Why do they define us with such a word ‘TERRORIST’?”
Are we the only ones those creating annoyance, interruption? I felt like we were from Pakistan or Taliban or Afghanistan. And the words ‘back benchers” seemed to be al-Qaida or Harkat-ul-mujhahidin.
We are students, also terrorists.
There was slight justification of being termed a terrorist, I realized. But we were not alone. The students who sit in the front and middle benches can be characterized as MAOISTS or NAXALITES.
I have told, a terrorist has no religion. the classification of the students in the class front benchers, middle benchers and back benchers is analogous to rich or higher society people, middle class and poor people.
Any one can be a terrorist. Do u think terrorists only come from Pakistan? There are terrorists among us. And fear is a big factor.
Why terrorists are created? That is a very difficult question to answer. Some are sent to disturb the peace of our country and there are the insiders they fight in an illegal way for their rights. And there are people who don’t give them what they want. There are a lot of things in and out.
TO TELL THE TRUTH, UP TO SOME EXTENT, WE ARE ALL TERRORISTS.
Now leave that I am not a great nationalist. But want to be one (a terrorist perhaps).
We were in the class.
TRERRORIST ACTIVITY IN THE CLASS:
·         BOMB BLAST:
Shout in class; beat the desk when    the lecturer turns 2 write on the board.
·         MASS KILLING:
Talking among ourselves and there are a lot of other student involved. Because we talk some other student cannot hear what is taught
·         KILL THE CHIEF:
It is the time when the lecturer does not feel like teaching any more to such students.
    ACTIONS TAKEN TO STOP TERRORIST ACTIVITIES:
·         STOP CROSS BORDER TERRORISM:
Don’t allow the students who knowingly come late to the class
·         TERMINATE THE TERRORIST:
Drive him out of the class or cut his attendance (2 or 3)
·         GIVE A CHANCE TO CHANGE :
Give warning not to repeat.
·         SEND HIM TO THE HIGH COURT OR SUPREME COURT:
 Send the disturbing element to HOD, principal or DISCO (disciplinary committee).  

HOPE u  enjoyed it. Please comment....

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Canteen qUeUe

Have u ever seen a bunch of guys well clad, around 18, standing in a queue and struggling to have the food?
Not really a big issue.
While I was having my lunch in the canteen, there was a good length queue formed by the first year students. The canteen for the 1st year and final year students is same. That could be a big trouble for them but thanks to the Supreme Court rules, nothing happens. We feel like we have been ragged. Still we are the seniors. Though they don’t respect us, they can’t disrespect us. (We also did the same when we were fresher).
As seniors my batch students go directly to the counter to fetch food for themselves and those poor fellows cannot even say a word to us in oppose. They know the consequences of their misbehavior. Their hostel is just in front of ours. But still we don’t want to do any thing unexpected or antisocial. Everyone knows, an engineering student is more uncivilized than to the extent of his civilized character. Of course we can say it is not our fault, it happens at our age. The final year students come whenever they feel like one by one and the 1st years have to wait. Any way you can say misuse of power.
I sat with my friends around a table. And we were watching the 1st year students.
Soon they became the point of our discussion. We felt bad for them because of making them wait further for food due to our interrupt. But what can we do? (Adatse majboor hain hum.) one of my friends said that, see that guy, just moved two steps and another three added to the queue. The boys serving at the counter were not fast and if they did any kanjusi while serving, then another five minutes wasted due to unnecessary arguments.
Seeing them in line (humko apni zabani ke din yaad agaye) we remembered our 1st year days and then there was only one canteen and we encountered the same situation what they are facing now. But the only relaxation to them is they are better than we were.
Another friend said, “They will be abusing us like anything.”  
I reminded him that we were also doing the same thing.
One of us pointed out a guy from 1st year. He didn’t stand in the queue, came to his friend and took a plate from the counter and collected food. That was smart.
But we had a plan. If anything goes further like this then let him collect the food from counter when he comes back, tell him to put the plate for one of us on the table and go. Then he will definitely stand in queue. That was a good idea.
I told my friend to count how many were there in queue. There were 55. That was just a small two digit number.
Some fellows even returned seeing the long array of others like them. We know how it feels standing for a long time just to eat the canteen food. The hunger will die; they have to stand for more than half an hour. Half an hour gone like this out of the precious one hour break, in another half an hour they have to eat and run to the class. What can be worse than that? At last the hunger will hate food.
This will go on and on. Leave him at their condition. Eat your lunch. They will do it one day what we are doing today.

Friday, February 19, 2010

LONELY PASSION(a short story)


There is no one in the room except him. So he is alone there. But there are other nonliving beings present at the same time with him. Chairs, tables, beds, the lights and fans. They can’t speak, they cannot talk. He mocks at them as they are dumb, deaf and blind. He laughs at the light because it can help see but it itself is blind. The windows are open, the fans are moving. Lights are on.

He sits in the North West corner of the room. He is sad and gloomy. For last couple of hours he has been sitting there. His hands resting on the table and his fingers are hanging in the air. He drinks water from the bottle which is near him. He does not know what has happened to him. He wonders when nothing has happened to me then why I am sad. This has disturbed him so much that he has been just thinking for last two hours. “Have I gone crazy?” he asks himself, “But how can a mad man claim that he has actually gone mad?” He feels very lonely. He feels very lonely not because he is alone in the room now. He realizes same because of his relationships. He could not make any one closer to him nor is he able to do it now. He talks to them but not heartily. Words flow in the air and dissolve. He has no lover, no girlfriend because he could not make one. He meets his friends but hardly involves himself. He turns on his computer and clicks and goes on clicking the folders till he reaches his desired folder and he plays heavy metal videos on windows media player. He has always loved metal sound. He is fond of those ear throbbing shouts of the vocalists and bass guitars, long hair swaying in the air and the fierce drum beating. He always makes his head dance according to the violent rhythm of death metal songs and he has thrown his legs likewise as if he himself is on the drum. But he is not doing it this time. He feels crap and boring. The man singing there seems to be shouting because he was feeling weary. He tries to read jokes from the eBook he had collected. But they are unable to play a smile on his face. He just artificially laughs ha-ha-ha. He is not at all interested and he shuts down the system.

He finds a piece of paper fallen on the table unnecessarily. He sees the both sides of it and there was no blank space left to do any other work, so useless now. He tears the paper into small pieces; he makes them as small as possible by his hands and till the hands ache. He takes some of those scraps to his hand and drops them. They are blown by the fan. Some fall on the floor and rest on him. He collects the other pieces and walks to the balcony. He releases them down and watches as they land on the ground. He finds it funny. He goes to the second floor and does the same thing. He returns to the room, locks down from inside and again sit on the same chair.

“What should I do now? What should I do now?” he thinks.   
He does not feel like reading his text books which are lying on the table already. They are handsomely thick books and he is fed off seeing them again and again. He walks to his cupboard and looks for the novels that are present at that moment with him. God of small things, the Zahir, the Doomsday Conspiracy, and the Lady Chatterley’s Lover, the Wings of Fire and Tease me. He then looks at his diaries one with a red cover, another in brown, a cement colored and the other two are of same color which he does not know.

He maintains diaries regularly, not exactly but almost regularly. He likes his diaries. They have been his friends. Although they don’t talk to him, they listen to him patiently. They hear whatever and whenever he says something. They store his ideas, his feelings inside them, they help him share his views and hide his secrets. They never talk to anyone except him. On the diaries he has written his name, Ranjan. He loves his diaries. They are his personal. He sometimes goes through the pages of his diaries which keep account of his past activities. He feels good when he reads then and tries to have a picture of it. He started maintaining a personal diary when he was a teen of thirteen. He used to write but once or twice a week, sometimes not at all in the month. But he knows he loved diaries, he used to complain his dad to get more diaries and how many he has spoiled. He regrets for that. Now he does not do it anymore. It took him five years to make it a regular habit. When he started writing in diary he used to note down his daily routine. When did he get up, what did he do after that, did he go to school, when did he come back home, he played or not etc. but as he grows older he knows what he should write in a personal diary. He does not write them in detail anymore but a small portion. The rest of the lines are filled with his ideas, the different things he does in the whole day, what he dreams, which girl he likes to see, what he hates and several other things which he terms secrets. Every time before going to bed of after getting up in the morning he does not forget to work on his diary and for this year it is a brown covered Oxford diary.

He picks up Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence. It is a sex novel. He has gone through the book a few times. Now he does read only some selected pages which describe the romance. He enjoys reading them. In the four hundred pages only forty pages have provocative description. He flaps the pages and looks at the cover of the novel. He finds the cover page picture more interesting than the novel. He puts it back in its place. Someone has said,” In history nothing is true except name and date. In fiction everything is true except name and date.” He finds the lines very interesting. There are several things in his cupboard thick text books, novels, diaries and a bunch of notes. Except them there are his daily used things. He gets irritated when he sees the notes. The notes have more blank white pages than written pages. Sometimes he finds it very difficult to study and he hates it.

To pass his time he collects pictures from the news papers. He cuts pictures of his desire and pastes them in a particular note book. He likes to do it.  He brings then to the shape they are in and then sticks them. The pictures include women celebrities, flowers and beautiful sceneries, cars of his choice, houses and bed rooms. When he gets bored he sees the collection and they take him to the world of imagination, he feels good. The collection expresses his dreams, desires and choices. He has developed this hobby in him so as to escape from loneliness. He is also a philatelist. But today he is not in a mood to check his neither picture collection nor stamps he wants to have a look which are from various countries along with Indian postage stamp. He has stamp from New Zealand, Australia, China and USA. Every stamp has a meaning. He is indifferent to understand the story of stamps right now.

The other thing he does when alone is thinking. He muses, he ponders about a lot off things, but a particular one at a time. He thinks of the world and of different situations. He considers several topics which anyone does not take into account. He ponders for hours. He thinks much rather than speaking or talking unnecessarily. He even hates to say a word. Are words must be spoken to express feelings? He jots down his remote ideas in his diary.

When he is in his home town, he does not like to waste time. He sits in his room alone reading a novel or a magazine. He dissolves himself in the novel and does not like anyone to disturb him. He goes on morning walks. The morning time is very pleasant. He takes long walks by the canal side. He stands on the bridge and keenly observes the flowing water. He loves the green hills which he can view from the roads in the morning on which he goes for walk. After sun is down he stalks on the crowded town road. He does it alone. He never walks on the street roads. He does it alone and avoids the company of friends. His regular time on the road is between 7.00 pm to 9.00 pm. His friends easily find him on the main road during the time. He has never been in a group. His friends ask him, “Why you are alone? Did not you get anyone to accompany you?” Ranjan answers he likes it in that way. He is alone in the crowd. He gets a lot of things on the road and everyday he discovers it in a new way.  One day he found an old friend of him. The funny thing happened to him was he could not recall his name. He knew it. And he walked the full length of the road and while returning he remembered the name of the friend at the very place he had met him. He still smiles when the incident peeps in his mind. “I just walked four kilometers to recall a name.”
He is back to the chair. He is thinking something, his head cupped between two hands. He takes a notebook and opens a fresh page. He goes on writing there.” I am going mad. Am I going mad?” he writes several times then stops himself. He tears that particular page and crushes that into an irregular ball shape. He needs to throw it somewhere. He looks around and the dustbin, his eyes catch, which is placed diagonally opposite to him. He tries to put it in the dustbin from the place of sitting. Unfortunately it hits the wall and falls not into its destination. He walks to the paper ball, picks it up and takes a few steps back. He decides to throw it into the dustbin and continues it until it falls in there. After trying a few more times it reaches its destination by happenstance. He goes to the bed and lays his body down. His back is aching thanks to sitting for a long time on the cushion less plastic chair. He is not feeling sleepy now, so he cannot sleep. Before he shuts his eye lids he looks at the fan that is moving round-round. He thinks. There are only three blades in the fan. But when it is in motion it seems like a round flat umbrella is moving. I can see the blades everywhere in the areas it covers. Why it is so? But there are only three blades. It may be an illusion. Do every people see what I can see? Why I am thinking of the fan? Perhaps nobody thinks of a fan after the day it was invented unless it is hot or urgently someone needs to dry the wet clothes.

He is unable to laugh or smile. He gets so angry. He grabs the table lamp and hits it on the wall so hard that it is scattered into pieces. He takes out the external keyboard and smashes on the floor. The keys are now out of the keyboard and they lay sadly on the floor. Someone knocks at the door. He opens the door and finds nobody. He is so angry that he kicks the door very hard. It makes a banging noise. He is so mad that if he finds the one who knocked the door and went away, he will thrash him. He feels like pulling his hair. But he cannot do all there. He can only think.

He wants to cry. Now he wants to cry. He wants tears in his eyes. He is trying. “Oh God! Why all these things are happening to me only? Am I the only one to suffer on earth? I am going mad. Someone help me. Please help me. I have never done anything which could satisfy my parents. I have never given them a little bit of happiness. Then why this life is for?” his eyes are moist now, the pre symptoms of tear.” I have given them pain only. Should I end my life? Yes, I must end my life. I should die now. I should die.” He is weeping. Tiny drops of tears rolling down his cheeks. “I should go to the top of the building and jump from it. I want to die. Oh God, I want to die. I am not even good at relationships. Then what is the purpose of my life? I have no friends. I have no lover of mine. I am a lonely guy.” He remembers what he had told his best friend one day.”I do not want your friendship any more. We are not going to be friends from now. I want to be alone.” And from that day he has behaved him like others, but not as a friend. Once his best friend, not now any more had asked,”Have you gone mad?”
Yes I am mad. I was mad then also. Why did I do it? I don’t know. I am unable to accomplish my goals. Why? I don’t deserve this life. I must terminate myself today. I will jump from the top of the building and die.” He is sobbing hard now. He bites the pillow in order to make no noise. He is unable to breathe a full breath. He tries to chock his breath. He repeats the line, I-should-die in his mind and weeping.

Someone knocks at the door now. He has to open the door. He sees himself in the mirror how he looks in that state. His eyes are red. He is so helpless. He wipes his tears with the towel and looks again in the mirror as he wants to leave no sign for anyone to discover that he is crying. He goes and pens the door. It is his roommate.
“What were you doing?”
“I was asleep.”
Ranjan is back to his bed and thinks, “What a miserable life! I cannot even cry contently.”


Thursday, February 18, 2010

FRIDA

Frida is movie which  depicts the private and professional life of Mexican painter Frida Kahlo.
The movie has got very sensitive dialogs . I have a great passion for movies and I write down the dialogs which touch me. It may seem strange but I find it very interesting.. Here are few lines I collected. There are a lot of things we can learn from a movie apart from enjoying it.

        "Why is this whore still here. .... Are you planning to have her after lunch or f**d her already?"
--------------------------------------------
“What are your plans, Frida?”
“Right now I am a burden…”
“Rich don’t have good taste. They pay someone to have good taste for them.”
“Shall we?” –Frida (It was the most interesting line I found in the whole movie.She invited the lady to dance with her.)
“Anyway sex is just like pissing. People take it much too seriously.”
“You are perfect. Perfect.”
“I can see why you are so successful with woman.”
“Loyalty is very important to me. Can you be loyal?”
“…two people who truly love each other and have no idea how truly miserable they are about to make each other.”
“And you look like dog. Dove. Dove. Did I say dog? I meant dove.”
“Well, you were not the first and you will not be the last.”
“I cannot love him for what he is not.”
“I don’t believe in god, but I still thank him having you safe for me.”
“When no man can do it, why not a cripple?”
“At the end of the day we get injured much more than we think.”

Monday, February 15, 2010

When u come


It was just like a small wood. The trees had grown smaller and larger; they were planted long ago, around 30 years, when the college was established. Most of the trees were taller and they stood proudly in the land possessed by the college. She and I were wandering in there enjoying the moments together. Sun beams reached the ground at places. It was winter and the leaves were falling down. Ground was almost covered with them. The dry leaves under our feet made rustling noise in the silence of the moment. There were benches to sit and spent time. None of us spoke a word as if we were trying to comprehend the silence and all other small noise that was generated in the woods. She told me to stop and started walking away from me. She paused after making a good distance. Her expression changed and I looked around, there was no one except both of us. The class rooms were visible but they were away. She seemed to be scared. I wondered why? She didn’t speak. She ran away from the place and I followed her. She entered into the administrative building and there she was applying for the college leaving certificate. I pleaded her not to do that but she did not listen to me. She was told that she would get it with in seven days. I was sad. She did not tell me why she was doing all this. I wished to spend some time with her as she was going away and she agreed. I walked with her in the woods again. There was a heavy wind and it tried to blow every lightest thing with it. We sat on a bench. I wanted to hold her tight close to my chest and kiss her and the moment to be so long that it would never end. I told her that I had written a story on feelings of my heart for her, for my love for her. I was sad because she had not read it yet. I told her that if she goes away I will be suffering in her absence.

Again we strode in the woods and suddenly she became a parrot. I had no time to think how it happened. Then two blackbirds came flying and took her high upon a tree. I cried at her to come back to me and I stood there. After sometime she fell down. I took her carefully in my hands and stroked her gently. But she bit my left index finger badly.

“What the hell?” I cried and looked at my index finger. It was okay. I moved my thumb over it to confirm. I still felt the pain for a few more minutes due to the inertia of the dream.

The day had just begun and you woke me up.

Friday, February 12, 2010

LINES FROM MY RED DIARY

‡ The world is very selfish. You are remembered when you are needed. Otherwise who you are no one knows.
‡ Everyone who looks alive from outside is alive?
‡ Tiny drops of rain falling on body and making the body wet little by little, touching every bit of sense, a feeling they give thrilled me and I walked to return to my room in the rain.
‡ The morning was very romantic. The clouds over the sky in the winter November raining slightly, the rhythmic sound of raindrops, the trees in their greenness expressing their youthfulness and cool breeze blowing.
‡ I don’t want to get wet in sorrow.
‡ How difficult it has become just to give a simple smile!
‡ When love leaves it seems life has left.
‡ I am not sure whether life is according to us or we are according to life.
‡ Things seem so scattered; it has become almost impossible to gather them.
----------------------------------------------------------
Every minute seems so long
Every step going wrong
Submerged in sorrow
Drowned in the ocean of tomorrow
Forgetting today, only past seems my own.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

It is Valentine's day. When is UR day??

How would a girl feel if a man who was proposing her told her that it was a once in a life time never to be repeated special offer?

Worried?

Valentine day is getting closer and anything strange can happen. When the day is banging at the door usually very comic, so also tragic things you will discover around U. Sad, becoz it is not happening with you, don’t bother u can be the victim also.

Victims of love due to the vibrations inside them, try to impress the empress (from male point of view), the one who has already theft their so sensitive soft corner and very eagerly they have been waiting for the V-day to claim a victory over his/her the cause of beating phenomenon in the human body, responsible for the flow of blood in the body. Don’t panic it is the same thing which we term as heart.

“HEART” does it say anything? Hear, ear, art. I don’t want to think. It is beating faster.

One of my friends wrote there was only a Valentine day. But who christened the 7 days before it as rose, propose, chocolate…? Seven extra days to reach to a valentine day.

For last few years Siva Sena has been against this. And they even managed to catch a boy and a girl, who loved each other and the girl had to tie Rakshi on the boy’s wrist. This was on the front page of a news paper. Funny? Be careful if u r in Mumbai.

May be you are in a park and operation Majnu has started. Keep your eyes and ear open. Don’t be so blind in love otherwise you imagine what will happen to you.

Romeo-Juliet or whatever pairs you are going to be discouraging you. Just go on with caution.

There was a time love letters were written. Now a day hardly someone will be doing. Who has got time to think, take a pen and paper to jot down on expense of mind? But it is pretty romantic, I will say. Now it is love SMSes. Like predefined functions and methods in a programming language in love just buy a valentine day card where already some nice & lovely words written with attractive images and fonts. Choose one and it does the work. There are books like 10 ways to success, 10 ways to improve personality. May be shortly there will be a title 7 days to express love or 10 ways to express love. I am least concerned about whether it is already in the market. It will sell well when valentine day comes nearer to inspire the lovers who are yet to have their love delivered.

Why it will be only on valentine day? Is it the only day to do it? There are 364 other days left in a year, don’t upset them. Love has greater meaning. It is Valentine’s Day. It is to celebrate love and affection between intimate companions (wiki).

Don’t you think you are a passionate lover? You lack confidence? Have your own day so that it can be special for you. You don’t need the Feb 14th to express love, the feelings of your heart. If you are waiting for Feb 14th after 15th Feb, during the time a lot of things can happen and you will be blaming Valentine day. Poor St. Valentine will be crying up in the sky.

Don’t hesitate. What ever date, day or month it is let it be the day for your love. You don’t need a Valentine day.

Wish, you will find your true love. And a movie 'Valentine's Day' will be released on 12th Feb.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Some InTerEstIng mOviE dIALouG

FROM "MY BLUEBERRY NIGHTS"

1. I was learning how to trust people. But could not.

2. sometimes we depend on other people to define us, to tell us who we are.

FROM "BEFORE SUNSET"

"They enjoy the goal but not the process. the true work of improving is in little achievements of the day.
And that is what you need to enjoy."

FROM "THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION"

1. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope drives man insane.

2. Every man has a breaking point.

3. GET BUSY LIVING, GET BUSY DYING.

4. "...a freeman at start of a long journey, whose conclusion is uncertain."

FROM "SWEET NOVEMBER"

"sO, besides your job, what makes you miserable?"

FROM "Mr. BROOKE"

1. I don't enjoy this Mr. Smith. I do it because I am addicted to it.

2. We never kill someone you know. It is the easiest way to get caught."

FROM 'THE RECRUIT"

1. Everything is a test.

2. What U see, what U hear, nothing is what it seems.
---------------***-------------------

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

LOWER EAST SIDE poem by Miguel Pinero

I first heard this song while watching the movie "Pinero". It has been a most inspiring movie for me.

Miguel Pinero, a Puerto Rican playwright, actor, and co-founder of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe.


Just once before I die
I want to climb up on a
tenement sky
to dream my lungs out till
I cry
then scatter my ashes thru
the Lower East Side.

So let me sing my song tonight
let me feel out of sight
and let all eyes be dry
when they scatter my ashes thru
the Lower East Side.

From Houston to 14th Street
from Second Avenue to the mighty D
here the hustlers & suckers meet
the faggots & freaks will all get
high
on the ashes that have been scattered
thru the Lower East Side.

There’s no other place for me to be
there’s no other place that I can see
there’s no other town around that
brings you up or keeps you down
no food little heat sweeps by
fancy cars & pimps’ bars & juke saloons
& greasy spoons make my spirits fly
with my ashes scattered thru the
Lower East Side…

A thief, a junkie I’ve been
committed every known sin
Jews and Gentiles… Bums and Men
of style… run away child
police shooting wild…
mother’s futile wails… pushers
making sales… dope wheelers
& cocaine dealers… smoking pot
streets are hot & feed off those who bleed to death…

all that’s true
all that’s true
all that is true
but this ain’t no lie
when I ask that my ashes be scattered thru
the Lower East Side.

So here I am, look at me
I stand proud as you can see
pleased to be from the Lower East
a street fighting man
a problem of this land
I am the Philosopher of the Criminal Mind
a dweller of prison time
a cancer of Rockefeller’s ghettocide
this concrete tomb is my home
to belong to survive you gotta be strong
you can’t be shy less without request
someone will scatter your ashes thru
the Lower East Side.

I don’t wanna be buried in Puerto Rico
I don’t wanna rest in Long Island cemetary
I wanna be near the stabbing shooting
gambling fighting & unnatural dying
& new birth crying
so please when I die…
don’t take me far away
keep me near by
take my ashes and scatter them thru out
the Lower East Side…