1)
my wife came out of the shower
last month
still unwashed and dry as a bone
You’ve forgotten, she snarled, haven’t you,
to pay the water bill?

Ooops! I’d done it again!

2)
last Monday
she came waving her hairdryer at me
and she screamed;
You’ve forgotten, haven’t you -
to pay the power bill?

Ooops! I’d done it again!

3)
last winter
she was trembling
and she said, shivering:
You’ve forgotten
to pay the bill for the gas heating ,
haven’t you?

Ooops! I’d done it again!


4)
and yesterday
when I returned home from work
I found everything in the house floating -
the chairs and the sofa
and the oven and the dog
and my wife too, upside down
up there in mid air
And she hollered:
You’ve forgotten, haven’t you
to pay the gravity bill?
And she reached out for my neck
as I levitated too

*Help! Somebody
Help! Anybody
Help us get back
down to earth!

Danny drops his broad bottom
back on the seat
beside his wife
at the food court
with 3 donuts for himself
each soaked in oil and fat
and each thick with white sugar coat

“Danny, why do you eat this stuff…?
That’s all fat, three donuts of fat,”
moans his wife

“Not really,” says Danny to his wife
who eats lettuce and carrot
and who looks like a knitting needle
*“Fastfood donuts are healthy;
look at the air in the middle -
but no doubt
one has to get through rest of the donut
for sure
but the air in the middle
is pure life-giving health
when one gets there”

1
*Gongs and drums sound rambunctious,
a wild rhythm tears the silence of the night,
a slow number first, then in quick time
racing fast,everything ends in a blast.
his self control lost, he dances like one possessed,
in the moon lit places and shadows alike.
This angst is not his alone, he feels,
as if mad at the way the world these days is.
Freedom of a special kind, it was, catharsis,
drums sounding mysterious, made life different.
                               2
Once when he and his girl were making love
deep in his veins drums rumbled,
and he couldn't but stop and listen,
she was curious,"What is this, what do you listen?"
smiling, he resumed his dance
thorough the valley and plains, like wind,
to the tune of temple drums,
his hair flying and sweat pouring  like rain,
she could catch the change of rhythm
intense love was there, in the depth of fury.

Then, they ended up panting,then lying quiet.
holding each other tight,she said;
"you are like one possessed, fantastic,"
but he had felt the presence of a third,
he felt in his bones,
a benign female presence, who is she?
                      3
The oracle holding a sword with a shining blade,
wearing a red silk turban and a white **** cloth, told:
"It's the possession of a woman, a wild spirit,
her songs and dance were snuffed out
at a young age, when it slowly emerged,
it happened at a time we don't know when,
a kindred spirit, your tumult suits her soul."
the oracle was in a trance when he opened his eyes,
"Not a curse, a blessing, symbiotic it is"
the oracle  threw a bit of holy ash on him and said:
"Well son, in you Devi, the mother goddess
is pleased, this spirit will survive,
her speakings will come out from you,
all will be just fine, being kind you received her,
so pleased and contented she is, wouldn't disturb"

They walked together, the woman without a body
to fulfill her dreams or sing her songs,
at times of loneliness the drums sound,
she comes in to his tumultuous soul, he makes her alight,
in their entwined destiney, he sings her songs, they dance.

Under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
where the steam trains
go by overhead

quite frequently
going to somewhere else
by Baldy's
the grocer's store

where you get merchandise
quite often
for your mother
you sat with Janice

waiting to have
your hair cut
(your mother sent her
with you

to make sure
it was done right)
she had her
red beret on

the fair hair
flowing from beneath
her bright eyes
and straight white teeth

when we marry
she said
(why do girls do that
to a kid of 8?

at 9 maybe
that's fine
why spoil his day
with wedding days

and such?)
shall I wear
cream or a white dress?
(cream would be better

than white
make her look
less pale
more quaint

make her look
less likely to faint)
cream'd be good
you said

and what about my bouquet?
what flowers
should I have?
(God knows

you mused
I know nothing
of such things
whatever

the flower guy brings)
I don't know
flower names
you choose

you said
she smiled
and nodded her head
who will be

your best man?
she asked
Carmody or Jupp​?
you said

she didn't
look impressed
or Jim?
you added

he'll do
she said
(why ask you?)
you liked the way

her eyes went wide
at the mention
of Jim
(did she fancy him?)

and the way she leaned
her head to one side
when you said
cream to the colour of dress

(to you
it was a thing
to keep from life
and head

it would seem
but to her
it was a dream)
but who

will give me away?
she said
my Daddy's dead
and mother too

would my old man do?
you said
but she shook her head
(wise kid you thought)

Gran may
if she's not too old
she added
looking straight ahead

or too ill or dead
my brother could
if he's old enough then
(many years hence

you hoped)
a boy amongst men
you said
she just smiled

and gave nod of head
and how many kids
shall we have?
she asked

(why ask me
you thought
how many there'd be?)
two or three?

you said
or more
she suggested
gazing at the barber

who was finishing off
a middle-aged man
with a comb and mirror
wearing a smile

who's next?
he asked
taking off the cape
from the man

he is
Janice said
pointing to you
and a short back

and sides
his mother said
Janice added
the barber nodded you

to the chair
and you sat there
gazing at Janice
in the mirror

imagining her
as a bride in white
or cream
on some one's arm

coming down the aisle
with her smile
but not tomorrow
or next year

or after that
but off
some where
in quite awhile.

January brought cold weather, as well as a igloo shaped as home
fabricating a sort of warmth in a desiccated environment, it's a
sandpaper type coarse tip toe around the tacks scattered on the
floor type cold, childishly misplaced and a childish ignorance.
February brought one of the purest primrose flowers out of the
field, stuck in drought drowning in murky waters, covered in
dirt, and i washed away the dirt marks that i recall, was all over
you. It's a sobering feeling to find someone who completes you.
March brought lightning, but clouds shook the strikes away into
Davy Jones locker collected in mason jars, but lightning is not a
controlling virus. It doesn't hide it's burn marks or it's scars left
on vulnerable bodies that are at their tallest height, their peak.
April caused me to be a narcissistic but raucous child, enjoying
the effulgence showered on me, as well as the rain that poured.
This smile was stuck climbing to my ears, and I let life take the
rains as I stayed acquiesce to my worries. When it rains, it pours.
May brought a forest of doubt, growing introverted and placing
dynamite in my path, these mirrors won't show me anything but
the truth, anathema's bile spilled onto the yellow brick road and
I was dragged along for the unfortunate ride constantly mocked.
June was the end of the road and the start of a new and brighter
one, like a window flying open with all of my hopes and dreams
being carried by owls. My algorithm is being solved, one step up
without a tyrant. I'm going to dissociate myself from everyone.
July let the mirage give in, five years of desire to visit arizona
with it's rusty colored mountains and spiky tumbleweeds
sprawling hope back into my lungs that there is bandages
for the wound imprinted on my heart back in soggy April.
August showed me that it smells like burnt hair here, but the
good kind, if it makes sense, with hot air brushing against
my skin twirling with excitement that I've arrived, bringing
a bit of Texas with it. I've never been more happy to see rain.
September introduced me to jets at seven in the morning and
trains at ten, mountains that are almost an optical illusion, like
cardboard standups I could push over, and feelings of a lost friend
brought back after glancing back at my ex best friend of five years.
October was dressing up as my favorite movie character, kids
are quoting the movie as we fill our backpacks with dozens of
candy bars and filling me with the fresh october air and freedom.
Texas never provided that comfort. It's so real and overwhelming.
November was the interlude, 1,000 miles back to Texas brought
melancholy but i unraveled my roots back to the Greyhound,
an akin aching grandmother I brought back to her feet, as well
as got back to my feet when i slammed on my brakes and hit hope.
December brought me slamming my feet back onto the ground
when i left her walking home alone, but it taught me to love hard
and let go when you're given up on, that Christmas is all about
soft piano playing corny songs that are meant to bring you cheer.
Today brought me here.

- kra

the world is a machine built of scorpions and wolves, praying for sleep and
soft lullabies. the wheels and knobs turn endlessly, recklessly howling at the
stars for it's desirable solace, like ghosts stuck on earth preying on others for
revenge for being sentient puppets tangled in the strings, thrashing in their
thoughts, stuck in a everlasting cycle carrying around burdens like a courier
through dense forests and vast wastelands, burning bridges and bibles and
throwing gasoline upon the architectures built up and setting them on fire
but i feel hands of fear at my ankles, pulling me into the restless ocean
with a pulsating ache, wolves howl from the insides of my barren stomach
and making them be quiet is difficult, if duct tape worked, it would help
these knives for fingers cut through anything, but it can't cut through you

- kra

art is bisected into three categories
and other subcategories
painting & drawing
poetry & literature
music & dancing
i happened to become an
martyr to poetry, logolept
and framed masterpieces
not written down on paper
kept inside of wires attached
to my brain, smoldering my
grey matter and my feelings
melting like candles, slowly
but urgently sweating out
unspoken power and ungodly
overwhelming thoughts need
to be shared, but only show
your passion to someone
worth writing about who
is just as complex as you are

- kra

using stalagmite icycles as tooth picks in between the crevices of my head
my brain is getting frostbite as if i ate too much ice cream at once, but this
sporadic heartbeat is going into myocardial infarction, and all at once, every
second goes into slow motion, a familiar stillness before the blast of powerful
dynamite, bats living inside me are vexatious inside my head, like a parasite,
you weren't even noticed until you completely wracked my helpless body
with worms and ticks, leaving me with some sense of how a sick dog feels,
a walking contradiction and an anti-compressive depression that leaves me
with nothing. you're a sea that keeps on growing, a forest that keeps on burning
and a fire that is everlasting and almost behemoth, i'm helpless

- kra