evadu enni vaesaalu vaesina naa aksharaallo naenu kanipistanu. eppudyna ekkadynaa– real rajesh- word is my existence.

This is the original poem “The Liar” by LeRoi Jones / Amiri Baraka

What I thoguht was lov
in me, I find a thousand instances
as fear. ( Of the tree’s shadow
winding around the chair, a distant music
of frozen birds rattling
in the cold.
Where ever I go to claim
my flesh, there are entrances
of spirit. And even its comforts
are hideous uses I strain to understand.
Though I am man
who is loud
on the birth
of his ways. Publicly redifining
each change in my soul as if I had predicted
them,
and profited biblically, even tho
their chanting weight,
erased familiarity
from my face.
A question I think,
an answer; whatever sits
couting teh minutes
till you die.
When they say, “Is it Roi
who is dead?” I wonder
who will they mean?