She's the kind of girl
who is half of a whole
Her body is art, drawing lines
coming from her heart
The pain she endures,
Putting sadness away from her soul.

They put her down
crawling on the ground.
Her face... so full of frown!

Stop hating, start loving
You may be hurting
but this life isn't about crying
It's about smiling
and creating a rainbow
that makes a heart glow.

Can I reach & grab your hand?
Letting you know
I understand.

Doing this to yourself
won't let you see the real world.
It's because darkness
covers the light.

It's in you to make things right!
And it's never too late
for you to realize.
Come on, get up and try.

You are beautiful,
don't tell me that you're not.
Because we are all born to be
and will always be.

-A

8/22/14

The sanguine shades of India
Flow in mantras through my mind
In hashish tones sienna brown
To ochre greens, I find.
The soaring slopes of massif peak
And roaring waterfall
Lead to tranquil rhododendron glades
Capped in scarlet, I recall.

The clamour of the market place
The grimy squalor found
In the gutters on the roadway
With a constant wall of sound,
In the bartering for spices, red
In wicker baskets wide
With the stench of open sewer
Causing queasiness inside.

Dustiness of sandaled feet
Robes of saffron gold
And the gleaming glow of polished bronze
To purchase, should  you hold.
Patterned carpets lay displayed
In jute and woollen blend
Whilst ancient hands on simple loom
Weave more for you to spend.

Ullulation in the air
As turbaned dancers spin
To shrilling ethnic instrument
With drumbeat adding din.
Wild eyed watchers flashing teeth
As rhythms beat the air
Encircled by a chanting crowd
With temperament at flair.

Thronging people fill the lanes
Churning on their way
Interspersed with sacred cow
Meandering to hay.
Children flock with outstretched palm
Surging as they do
Insistently to foreign purse
In urgency that grew.

The sea of dark skinned faces
Mid flashing whites of eyes
An intensity of gaze that takes
You jarringly by surprise
And everywhere the pungency
Of the continent in the air
With the spicey taste of curry
And a chutneyed rice as fare.

But in speaking to the people
I found their manner warm
And their love for caste and custom
And their cricket team was worn
Like a flag around the shoulders,
Like a talisman, so proud,
And their love for home and family
Reiterated, long and loud.

Overhead, the baking heat
Occasionally relieved
By a downpour of monsoonal rain
Must be seen to be believed.
And the total inundation
Of believers on the stair
Of the teeming seeking holiness
In the river Ganges there.

And then as quickly as I came here
It became the time to leave
And the wonders of diversity
Were beyond what I believed.
What was once a frank abhorrence
Grew surreptitiously on me
The splendours of this mystic place
Well deserve their sanctity.

Now far across the oceans
In my safe and sterile land
I am drawn to stare to seaward
To recall my thoughts at hand,
Out across the sprawling delta
Gazing far to sunset sea,
That special taste of India
Flows irrevocably, back to me.

Marshalg
13 July 2014

Woman I live for thee
You ******* away completely.

Woman I live for thee
You complete me wholesomely.

Woman I live for thee
You complement me perfectly.

Woman I live for thee
You enslave me lovingly.

Woman I live for thee

I live for thee

with you in me.

If you have my heart,
Then bruise it not.
Rather if it please,
Hold to your breast

And sense its gentle pulse
Or if pleases more,
Against your cheek,
And feel the sad echo

Vibrate along the jaw.
Do not bruise my heart,
But if pleases place to your lips
And kiss with love or wild desire,

Or if pleases more,
Hold in your hands and move around
With curious gaze as if a gem or object rare.
Bruise not my heart,

But let it beat against your own
Until its gentle pulse and yours
Become as one.

I've measured her right
Little toe. It's exactly 16mm.
When she grinds her teeth in her
Sleep, just rub her jaw gently.
She'll stop without
Waking up.

If you read to her in bed, she'll
Watch you wide eyed from
Your shoulder; study your features
As you speak.
She'll stop you if you lose her
Between two words she doesn't
Quite understand.
She'll thank you for explaining.
She's worth it.

She's allergic to sugar, dairy, gluten
And eggs. I'll mail you a hundred
Recipes I've created for her.
Tell you all the tricks
So I know she'll eat.
You get used to the hassle.
She's worth it.

She's crazy about cartoons.
Let her watch them; seeing her
Laugh beats the game
Hundredfolds.
She'll love you for letting her
Read for hours and tell you about
The story.
She'll be so beautiful
When concentrating.
Give her space. Yours included.
She's worth it.

Let her grow.
Let her learn in her own time.
Let her be who she is.

She was weaker before me.
Now she's strong enough
To stand up and do the right thing,  
Though both our hearts broke
In the process.

If she goes, let her.
Help her out, send her off
With blessings.
Say to yourself I'd rather see her
Happy without me than
Unhappy here. You'll
Mean it.

You'll cry your eyes out
And scream at the skies. Then
Thank God for every minute
You spent as her man.
They were worth it.

The Plane from Bangkok touched down,
Bouncing hard, jarring nerves
And bones alike.
We emerged into the  
Hot damp breeze,
Smoky Sun light glare,
Our eyes squinting,
Fumbling then for dark glasses.

Descending the gangway steps,
As if into a different world.
A new fragrance of foreign things
Of a mystical persuasion,
Hung heavy in the air.
I quickly breathed it all in,
My mind racing in anticipation.

For years I had dreamed of this land.
A country of fabled mystery,
Legend and contradictions.

Reading enough to admire the richness
And sheer wonder of place and people,
All to know and see better for myself.
A land so different from my own,
Being there seemed almost surreal.

Taxi and PedalCab rides into the City.
In every direction, where ever I looked,
New sites, sounds and perceptions observed.
More people in one place,
Than I had ever seen, 10 million in number,
All in that single city.
Most it appeared to be on foot.
All moving with individual purpose,
Seeming to flow all in different directions.
What at first looked like chaos to me,
Apparently worked for them.

Calcutta by Western standards,
Could be judged an urban mess.
Old British style colonial buildings,
Crumbling to bits and ruins,
Yet still very much in use,
Relics of a bye gone age,
Lingering still,
A visual reminder of what was,
Of a another culture,
And people gone home,
No doubt to where they belonged,
With all the riches they could carry.
Leaving more than a trace,
Behind in their wake.

A Kaleidoscope of movement and colors,
Best describes what I was seeing,
Cows and monkeys in the city streets,
Along with multitudes of moving people
All in traditional dress.
The very images and grist of the works of
Western writers and photographer’s attempts,
To capture and relay for over two hundred years.

Fascination best describes my impressions.
Captivating wonderment cascading,
An unstoppable vast Human River,
Churning and ever rapidly flowing,
Ethereal and emotionally stimulating.

Attractive people, dark eyes staring,
At the specter of our Western selves,
We as unfamiliar to them,
As they appeared to us.
Two distinct worlds meeting head on,
Learning, growing from the encounter.

India, timeless and magnificent.
Never felt more excited or alive,
Loved everything about it.