I've seen you in striped white,
I've seen you in black wrap-around tops,
I've seen you in stilettos,
I've seen you in Fitflops.

I've seen you in the bluest of days,
I've seen you in the rainiest of nights,
I've seen you in the face of the sun,
I've seen you in the wind-full of kites.

I've seen you in the trajectory of life,
I've seen you stare at me with care,
I've seen you in the droplets of water,
I've seen you in every castle in the air.

I've seen you dreaming,
I've seen you back in reality,
I've seen you physically Earthy,
I've seen you  emotionally Mars-y,

I've seen you sad and jubilant,
I've seen you troubled, but kept a smile,
I've seen you doubled - in poker,
I've seen you gone crazily wild.

I've seen you in green-blinking nails,
I've seen you return my stutters,
I've seen you stand tall - confident,
I've seen you slouch - don't matter.

I've seen you looking into empty spaces,
I've seen you looking into a tasty plate,
I've seen you doubt yourself,
I've seen you believing in fate.

I've seen you in the bakery,
I've seen you in a factory,
I've seen you in your beauty,
I've seen you in your most ball-sy.

I've seen you in the bus,
I've seen you read,
I've seen you pick up a microphone,
I've seen you speaking with speed.

I've seen you with a newspaper,
I've seen you with an iPad,
I've seen you with a t-shirt,
I've seen you stylishly clad.

I've seen you work hard,
I've seen you studied irresponsibly,
I've seen you proud,
I've seen you flicker embarrassingly.

I've seen you here,
I've seen you there,
I've seen you near,
I've seen you everywhere.

I've seen enough,
I've seen you in extremes,
I've seen you thorough,
I've seen you in teams.

I've seen you verily,
I've seen you truly,
I've seen so much inspiration,
I've seen you guilty.

I've seen "I've seen" 58 times,
I've seen you more than that few.
But I would've seen nothing more,
If I've seen none of you.

This is no poem.
They are my thoughts and views.

Nobody wants to give service but everybody wants to enjoy service.
Politicians would misuse national assets and wealth, deny citizens of the deserved services but chase them for taxes.

Citizens lazy around their work, avoid tax, act irresponsibly when using national assets but are first to cry out for what they deserve from the nation.

Certain pastors would not spend time to prepare a good sermon but would be expecting all church members to be all punctual and giving off their best in might and wealth for the church.
There also are church members who would go to church late, sit, sing and leave early but still complain bitterly about how things are not going right in the church. They easily see how unkept the church premises is and would do nothing about it but seriously expect something to be done about it.

Husbands want to be loved but are the last to show love to wives. The same it is with certain wives as well.
Fathers want respect from children but act all irresponsibly and shirk their responsibilities.
Children want care, love, protection and provision from parents but would not respect and obey parents.

So everyone wants something but wants to give nothing.

When we **** that selfish attitude in our views of life, relationships would at least improve a bit and peace would find feet.

Even when I'm simple you turn away,
I am sitting here telling you I'm not okay,
Turn your head from my cries if you’re mean,
These things I tell are something, they are keen,
Understand that you’re not there for me,
Paying bills is not the key,
I cry to you, of all I care,
So much I have had to bare,
No pity please, I want none,
But I'm not liking the shun,
You always disrespect my heart,
Irresponsibly shooting a missing dart,
Hello there, please remember me,
I need attention too, can't you see,
Denial fills you, in your mind,
Thinking you are so kind,
The love I feel, but not the attention
Is any of this comprehension
Listen to me, here me out,
Be there when I begin to cry out.

Be wary of the
paradoxical, neglected sentience among the departed minds
Seek the route which makes accessible...an absolute truth
oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, calcium, nitrogen, phosphorus
The composition of life
The creation of awareness, drifting from your nature
live irresponsibly, expose the fear to danger
it will devour the inessential anxiousness
and set yourself free
release from obligation,
release from routine duties
the masquerade of conditioning
no longer possessing you
bare spirit,
confront yourself
See the illusion, its deception
of your perception
remove the veil and feel
intensified anguish of the acknowledgment
of authorities dominance
to invent and forge manufactured minds
to divide us, impregnate the beauty
with depraved psychosis
then label it with sanity
taint them with vanity
to take the present moment
as an opportunity to breathe
here and now, everlasting liberation
reality, what is sincere?
What is truth?
It’s an option you determine
sight, holy sight
creating this world, this dread
this opportunity to break loose
undress and **** the reality in camouflage
reborn through a perceptual experience
the wilderness is within
the blinking 4th dimension
will soon carry us away
to an enigmatic change in sensory perception
the ego, self importance, it will pass away
is there a choice, a selection of setting?
When you zoom out of earth
examine closely the size of this
universe, we are microscopic babies
from the womb of infinite mystery

Blast it!
We've put our eggs
in the wrong basket,
and now Little Liberty has dropped them.

She's dropped them.
She's dropped them!
She certainly did,
She dropped them!

Each egg splits, cracks, breaks,
all despite Liberty's bleeding
colors. Faded, young
hatching prematurely;
before their time.

Liberty heard her love-
boyish ruckus in The Bush.
Hurriedly she did run;
giving all her aide.
Unfortunately, careless Liberty did not see:
All our eggs are handled irresponsibly.

Soon after little Liberty's Bush date,
she saw what she could only surmount to fate:
Poster slapped to said Holy Tree,
plastered with Allah's face.
Hating those jihadist anyway,
Ignorant Liberty unloaded her bounty-
upon the sacred man's face.  

It took a while
till Liberty thought,
looking down,
but by then,
we all thought it all too late.
But ,Little Liberty being supreme,
(totally Grade A,)
finally remembered to put the lid down.
Ah, now that should seal our fate,
her reasoning as she bounced and pranced away.

But just before she reached her people,
her sickness burst,
her pride was shook,
she couldn't show her face.
Afraid of what her people might say-
she reopened said lid, state of panic
flipped the basket promptly 'round.
All the little eggs crumbling to the ground.

Babies dispersed;
Children burnt and broken;
not to mention all the vital yolk;
nasty stuff and what a mess-
now onward to face my people.

But all is well;
she gives her spiel
about the alleged evil-doers.
People line-up,
hypnotized-
ready to give their last;
service, duty, and loyalty too
all for Little Miss Liberty.

Quite the siren, ain't she?

Like so many hundreds that day
He eventually reached his destination
The European shores of refuge
Dressed in his Sunday best
ready for Church in his new land

We stood by with our global media
to welcome him at the water’s edge
but he would not speak as usual
his mum said he was a shy boy
Still we clicked our cameras
beamed our global images
and moved on to the next story

He lay there alone – black and blue
watched by a policeman - unsure
how to handle this crime scene
not sure if it’s in his jurisdiction
a foreign child washed up
on the water’s edge
spewed out of the ocean belly
rejected twice – at home and in the sea

The meticulous autopsy revealed
that he had a swollen head
still full of grandiose stories and lies  
told by his mum every night
fantasy stories that kept him warm as she dragged him
walking mile after mile after mile like weary soldiers

In his heart he carried memories of a new country
where he would be free of fear, have food to eat
be able to play with his sister - not worry that
his neighbourhood would be shelled again
He boarded the rickety boat – head held high
pretending to be a brave young man - even though
he was terrified of water and unable to swim

I sit at home in my warm sofa watching the news
thinking how cruel this mother could be
to put her child through a horror such as this
how could she make a child walk for miles and miles
how could she put him on an unsafe overloaded boat
how could she act illegally and so irresponsibly  

I sit at home in my warm sofa watching the news
thinking why Europe needs to be burdened with Syrians
thinking why rich Arab countries will not take in their own  
thinking why Christian countries have to give home to
Muslim fundamentalists opposed to the teachings of Christ

When I’m done with dose my self-righteous thinking
a child shows up on my flat screen TV
washed up on a lonely shore
I switch off the TV but his image haunts my dream

I see a Syrian child - head held high
walking out of the icy Mediterranean sea
leading a band of desperate children – exhausted, broken
scared, starving, smiling with renewed hope
My dream seems to end like the deMille classic
the Egyptian chariots sink into the bottom of the sea
The children are free in the land of milk and honey

Only this time, from the promised land of refuge
a thousand chariots or more come rumbling down
along train tracks, cargo vans and police trucks
rounding up children to transit camps
where death is sure
for a hundred, thousand
six million more

Stanley Arumugam
13 Sept 2015

Reality isn't what it seems to be
it isn't touch, nor sound
it isn't a taste, nor is it visual
reality is what is perceived
what is believed
what is understood to be true
even when the memory is not
when the heart makes up its mind
and the mind draws up its own conclusion
then that is reality
even when its wrong, unjustly created
what is real? what is not?
why what one person sees isn't the same
as what the next person saw? felt? heard?
is one of them wrong? if so, than how is it proven
or how is it dis-proven? video tapes and voice recorders
can only prove or disprove the event.
not the feeling that was felt, or the mental strain
that was placed. How can something feel so right
to one person, yet complete tear down another?
one thing felt so good, yet it was so bad for you?
there is no spoon, nor is there a hand to hold it
for as your mind bends to the force of your own thoughts
the labyrinth that it creates spins your reality into something
different, irrecoverable, irrevocable, irresponsibly
I stand here, looking terrible in your eyes, and with love
mirroring the effects of the icy stare
I stand here, looking terrible in my own eyes.
this is reality
unfixable? unforgivable? unimaginable?
maybe
but if there is a chance to fight the reality
to bend the spoon
to show you that my reality is not your reality
then...maybe
for this is real, with two different realities

I've fallen in love
Irresponsibly, irrevocably like Bella in Twilight

It's cheesy
Beautiful
And terrifying

It's deep
And everything I could ever dream
It's romantic

Like a movie
Or a book

It smells like church and has unspoken promises of everything and nothing.

8/11/2013
Summer Reflection

The summer of 2013.
The summer before my senior year of college.
It was the summer of sensations.

As time proceeded and I lost sight of nearly all initial goals,
I found myself frequently giving in to impulsive behaviors.
The money spending and time spent scheming my next dating endeavor,
or some other wild adventure,
reached an all time high.

It turned out not to be a time of learning as I had previously hoped for,
but instead,
a time of experiencing.

I lived like I never had before - irresponsibly,
yet completely embracing the throws and tides of life.

At first, I fell in love.
Not with my new found lifestyle,
and not with my new identity.
But I fell in love with another human being,
ultimately proving to myself that I am capable and vulnerable of and to the same vices as every other individual.

That started early in the summer as well as ended early
- my own decision,
which I thankfully did not feel damaged or jaded as a result of
- a sign that I have finally formed some semblance of emotional independence!

It was so nice to experience the trust from many friends who due to my recent 'coming out' decided to confide in and come out to me.
I felt kinda like a beacon of hope,
by serving as on open conversation opportunity for many of these friends.
A great responsibility which I gladly took on for them.

On that note,
I noticed a motif for the summer.
It seems as if everybody has recently developed a love life...
or at least a *** life.
So much *** gossip out of nowhere from people who normally don't dare to experience such an escapade.
It was an unprecedented growth maybe having something to do with age trends?
I'm not sure.

But then again,
who could have been back then?

like clock work i pace this spinning ground,
summoning up these imaginary fallacies-
figuring out this forever changing world,
as i spin round and round-
clock wise, i think i've got it
counter that thought- i think i've lost it,
losing all grip on life-reality,
irresponsibly wandering through this lost life,
searching for meaning in these sandwich bags,
filled to the seal, with these evil prescriptions-
relax, everything is copacetic
i whisper into the empty bag;
in complete agreement with my two sides,
unanimously deciding against all odds-
to end this unrealistic dependency;
reliance on this rare but prominent object,
would be a complete and utter disaster;
among both sides they would bicker,
until they recreate that clock in my head;
spinning out of self control
i will patrol this empty room.

Can't you see
that the fish was gasping for air?

For the sake of your lust,
wanting to have a triumphant end
to such a meaningless contest
you lure it from its world.

How could you inflicted that
on such innocent, lovely soul?
How could you treated its life
as if it is unworthy at all?
How could you even sleep
when you have wounded another soul?

Dead or alive,
you have no right
to irresponsibly acted in that way.

Ignorance, arrogance.

No regret, no guilt.


Yes, because you are all murderers!

XXII

hooded boy
kite aloft
duned beach
turquoise sea
uncertain wind
hard horizon
variegated rocks
suddenly sunshine

XXIII

clouds sailing away
from a sunset
great banks of reflected
light caressing
the heavens expecting stars
far distant a lighthouse pencil-thin
awaits its first flash into the night



XXIV

on the horizon’s rim
far St Kilda waits
two islands one a ****
of rock basalt-black
a stack bird-coated
sheer with noise perpetual

morning boat slicing
a myriad blue aimed
purposely between the two
faint shapes seaward

XXV

Donald
parish priest
of Bornish
died 1905
30 years of age
3rd year of his
priesthood

his Celtic cross
standing before
three hills
of South Uist
‘next the sea
and the call of birds
a life barely lived
resting in peace

XXVI

after the swim
a warm beach
soft fine sand
between the toes
a steady breeze
off the sea
with a coverlet of light
stretching horizon-ward

XXVIII

six geese
fallen from the sky
in the roughest weather
(more likely shot, he said, and
dumped from a farmer’s sack)
feathers bones and intricate
webs of cartilage lie
on these quiet rocks

XXIX

girl with *****
digs out channel
for the boat to pass
to its winter home
a long task a project
for this late-summer week
she has at home
away from the desk
measuring the silence
in shovelfuls
whilst thinking
of what is and what might
be then and soon

***

sea loch
maze of water
****-mantled
granite holding
the moor-side in place

a low cloud rests
curtain-like
on the heights
where deer lie
ready for the stalking

XXXI

white horses
chomp at the bay’s
bit while the Barra
ferry waits
wind everywhere
this bright morning

XXXII

impossible grasses
jiggle on their slim stems
planted in the immediate sand
before the machair takes control
windy today but sun lightens
the shell detritus lining the beach

so fine these calciated shapes
rendered perfect in fractal forms
tossed and turned but so precise
when seen alone
held in the hand

meanwhile there are wind waves
across the dune-land grass
nodding to the facing sea
as the water  foam-faced
breaks irresponsibly across
the Sound.

Erratic squirrels
Irresponsibly consume
Fermenting pumpkins.

The dark early mornings
Where all is still quiet.
When the cities aren’t cities yet.
And I’m driving,
Like you were then.
I remember the feeling of safety
Enveloping me as I slept.
Even though you drove fast, reckless, irresponsibly.
With my eyes closed I felt nothing but comfort.
I am transported to that now
When I am behind the wheel.
Seeking that comfort.
Though the dangerous nature has been exposed
I still doze off.
It’s all I know.
All you’ve taught me.
And it hurts to be so far away now.
But I know our habits,
Not trying to suffer the way you are now.
In the guise of pleasure.
Trust was placed.
You made me this.
Through our experiences.
The soft glow of streetlights illuminating.
As you traveled up and down the mountains
Like nothing.
But really you were struggling.
I’m higher than you now.
Depressing but true.
I think of you.
But choose to keep my distance.
To not be apart of what you always were,
But I never knew.
But we will always have these near death experiences
And all the events that took place, while I was awake.
And how we both see them so differently now.
You were set on destinations.
I was lost in the scenery of anything
That presented itself.
The varying methods of heads just slightly apart.
I’ll think of this morning
Like I think of you.
Fleeting and unfortunate.
We drive on.
We get to where we are going,
Eventually.

Yes it's how I love you,
and how I always will.

that honesty was the best kind of poetry.
So here it is. My kind of poetry
but your kind of honesty.
I am so
infinitely,
undeniably,
irresponsibly,
head of heels in love with you.

Have YOU ever experienced the following:

Sadness, financial debt, crushing loneliness, childhood trauma, all, some, or other soul-killing misfortune?

It all ends today. Introducing the CRYPTO-SPIRITUAL DEEP ANIMA CLEANSING SYSTEM (CDACS) from World Grip Inc. Misery has never been this impartial!

The "CDACS" learns about the user through exposure to create a positive feedback loop that discourages critical thought and negative emotion. Need assistance emotionally, professionally, or sexually? CDACS has you covered.

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"PLEASE USE IRRESPONSIBLY!"

my joints are protective like laminates and coke corner lookouts
they're.. less forgiving, less tolerant
and less inclined to suppress significant emotion
so as much as it might make me no nevermind
you'll be unfairly called out
unfairly because it takes both halves of anything to fulfill a split
and i was so spent; our nonlove had used me up

cross me

and they're.. that much more callous, vindictive
and less likely to fall back and dust you off

is why every drop i co-author will vilify you
i swear on everything relevant
co-author because anyone who's been through anything
is the voice of my writs
and every someone afraid to ink it lives vicariously through rants

my joints won't not be heard

they.. won't be negotiated and can't be bought off
they know how irresponsibly you've loved
and mypoems won't hold their tongues
or your hand, i promise

you should watch your back and wonder no more
if everyone's looking at you or if you're trippin because.. they are

i told you not to **** with me
but you forced my hand
and i've written you up and posted your offenses on poetry boards;
a journal worth of she-love-not and who gives a ****

my readers get it
heartbreak.. that's universal
and everyone wishes they could articulate a dear john or jane
so i supply a public service
pro bono

this here... is the way to the mediator

City lines illuminated by animated street lights reflect off of your skin.
Images of infant filled houses
and hospitals with new born fetal babies, juxtaposed fatal mothers,
emit off your body
in black and white stop motion,
slicked by this canvas of fluid blanket
And you, victim of lifelessness
lie cold and waterlogged
inhaling liquid, the new source of oxygen,
your eyes fogged and inverted submissively.
What was sung to sleep by hymnal chants  
of incredulous mourning moans now lies
Dead
on a forgetful Sunday Evening.
The street lights give no respect
as they ponderously encroach,
Leaning in to hear your fleeting birdsong.
These lamp poles, tender and limber,
flex to form prayer circles, forgetting their rightful footings.
And with each inch bound tighter,
the circle emulates a power emitted through photonic light beams
bending irresponsibly to get closer to truth.

They then see it, and so does woman
Stopping by this wooded mausoleum.
She stands with inquisitive mittens, palms open and receiving.
Flecks of skin lift off your sinking vessel as what was you leaves into better places.
They drift, forming a clouded colony
crawling  up webbing left to lead them correctly.
Each inch spreads more purity,
each meter strengthens recent weaknesses.

Woman notices a cloud gather above you,
and each particle refracts the whole galaxy with increasing detail and accuracy.
As your body turns to skeletal structure
you seep faster into the silt-heavy waters below,
your bones creating playgrounds and Eiffel Towers, hospital white in hue,
so clean it hurts.  

The cloud moistens with rain,
it becomes heavy and starts to drift,
rocking,
in futile attempt to birth again.
And each fleck takes woman.
She spreads eagle and takes flight.
Toes lift individually and with lessened pressure,
she stretches each appendage as your flesh meshes with woman’s in unconventional ways,
every crevice and crack blanketed by you, what was.
The street lights pulsate as they observe in amazement
your transformation.
All is forgiven while the lamps induct you into purity
and absolve woman for witnessing this connection to God.

I see a new key close by
Not shiny
Or fancy
Not even sleek
But sturdy-looking
Substantial
And rigid inside.

Knowing myself and,
That every key leads to
New doors
I begin to reach out to it.

But I know that
A murky barrier surrounds it,
Just like the barrier around my heart.
And knowing myself best,
The high ice palace that
I reside upon,
The expansive, endless
Landscape of frozen tidal waves,
And the amount of times it has
Crumpled down
Because of illusions and
Darkness...
I understand
That reaching out quickly will
Break me down.
And it'll probably affect the key too.
However, I can only feel
The ice tower and landscape
That surrounds me
So how can I handle taking care
Of a key all rusted inside,
If I'm just as unstable?

I don't trust myself.
And I don't want to destroy
The key in front of me
Or the barrier that surrounds it
Irresponsibly.

So I will be wary
While reaching towards
This key
Ready to say
Goodbye.

It is a beautiful thing that I was born irresponsibly, irrepressibly, psychotic.
Oceans and ponds are just water.
One mile or a thousand can be walked.
It is beautiful that I wake up every morning as crazy and inconsolable as the one I was born on.
I have never thought she was too far.
Or beautiful, or successful for me.
I am a fool but I won.