Come, we shall rest here
a while
and slip into the quiet and calm
and peace of the hills
and the trees and the streams;
we’ll live into stillness and silence
and see what it is to die to thought
and to the day and night
and to each past and intention;
here we shall abandon left and right or center
and all the million causes
and concerns and justification and structures
that we always gave attention to;
we shall have natural pace here
at least for the while
and see what it is to be away
from the roles and formations we are seduced into
and to be dead to all things that form
human exchange and all ideas and established creed
and convention and sanctity;
and see what it is to be dead
to all things that **** life;
we’ll be here a while and possibly
for some time as it pleases one
and shall return perhaps not as the regular sun
but as a cloud unexpected, irregular and in its own time

the camellias are held out
by a branch
as if to invite any passerby
to see the delicate flowers
and the beauty of it
and the silence of it
and the moment of it;
but it is a bird that comes by
that comes to sit on the branch
to come to no purpose it seems but to sit
as if to say to the branch
to show to the camellias and the branch
to point to the beauty of it
the silence of it
and the moment of it
as the bird sits on the branch

we walk in the shadows:
it is the time of courting;
we walk admiring the blossoms
and the unruly branches
nudge us closer
and we brush fingers
and feel the warmth
of each other’s palms
and we brush lips

is this how love begins?
in the brushing of skin
to the disappointment
of idealists and puritans;
love born in desire and impulse
that has its origins in flesh
and what is here on earth
and transformed
into ideals by inventive poets
and cunning prophets

come,
let us walk
in the autumn sun now
and stop by below the cypress
when we feel like it;
and we shall draw close to each other
and kiss deep
and we shall feel each other’s fullness
as we close the world out

1
she’s the delicate head of a young woman
in Agnolo Bronzino’s drawing;
she says, ‘Look. You can look;
look, I don’t really mind;
and if you feel shy,
I’ll have my eyes and face
down all the while’
and in her charm she says:
‘We’ll leave repressed debaters
about lust and propriety far behind;
I want you to look and you want to;
that’s all that matters between us’
a man can look all the while
as she has eyes down forever;
a beauty unreachable
just a piece of paper maybe
and mostly bits of dots and pixels
in cyberspace




2
could we have lived
darling,
in the same space and time
I might have followed
where you beckoned;
I might have beaten
Agnolo Bronzino
with a Michelangelo skill;
but now perhaps I’ll
copy and paste
and post
my image beside yours somewhere in cyberspace
and perhaps when I’m not watching
my image will walk over to yours
and you might look up at my avatar
and you’d say:
'Sweetheart, what took you so long?'
And the two of you might just run away
like cheeky teenagers
and run through various sites and
run across everyone’s screen;
and as the two of you get along
and chat about times and love
and the arts of love and such matters
I might be asleep or be at a meeting
and I’ll have a strange feeling
a cool sensation all over my body
and I’d say to whoever is beside me:
*'You know, something’s happened in cyberspace…
a strange love thing between an image of me
and the delicate head of a young woman…'

The Wise Owl
in the woods
spoke mostly
by way of tales
and stories

and at the end
of one these tales
Rabbit asked:
'What’s the moral of this tale?'

And the Wise Owl hooted briefly:
'I have to tell you the tale
and must I do the thinking
for you as well?'



And if you,
gentle reader,
should ask me too
what the moral of this tale is
then I must refer you
to the Owl
that is wiser than I

the sunset does not come,
do you think,
to be appreciated
and to be told how beautiful it is,
don’t you think?
the stars come in at night
and the moon too
not really for appreciation
and to be glorified and to be the subject
of paintings and songs and nursery rhymes;
they simply are in the general scheme-dance of things;
the bird may sing to attract a mate
and perhaps to warn the group
but it does not sing, it appears,
for audience approval and applause
and ratings and number of visits;
it is just its nature, I think:
so that the sunset comes
and the stars and the moon too
according to conditions
and the bird sings because it must;
there are no complications…

you sit before me at the bench
and you throw your head back
hair loose, and neck exposed
as you drink water from the bottle
O, it makes me want to kiss your neck
lick it wet,
and drink from your mouth
and kiss your ears
but you laugh and push me back
and you say:
I don’t trust you
I don’t trust me
cos I know
we won’t let it stop there


I don’t trust you
I don’t trust me
cos I know
we won’t let it stop there


you wave at a friend passing by
and I say I love that wrist exposed
and I want to kiss your naked wrists
and I want to kiss your neck
it makes me feel like these vampires
these kids today rave about
but you laugh and push me back
and you say:
I don’t trust you
I don’t trust me
cos I know
we won’t let it stop there

O look sweetheart
you may not trust yourself
and you may not trust me
but I trust myself
so let me kiss your neck and ears
and let me nibble at your wrists
and let me drink from your mouth
cos I really trust myself


and still you laugh
and you won’t let me
and you say:
*I don’t trust you
I don’t trust me
cos I know
we won’t let it stop there

sing a song of nonsense
of absolute lack of sense
for people who are
so, so important and busy
they have no time to waste



he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum


the tree spreads out its arms
and birds come to rest
on the ground;
‘what do you think I am?’
sneers the tree
‘your daddy or mummy
to give you shelter
on hot days?’
and flicks the birds off
with its roots and branches


he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum



the fish come to the hooks
under water
and they flick it up over
with their immense tails;
and the hooks land on the fishermen’s
smooth bald heads
and the fish sing together:
‘Put those hooks up in your noses
and go home to your wives
and tell them
the fish gave you nose-rings
to celebrate this Glorious Day of Hooks’



he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum



under the oceans
Shark got married to Giant Octopus
and on their wedding night
Giant Octopus said:
‘Come baby,
come on in to my embrace’



he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum




and the earthworms
peeped out of the earth
and said:
‘My, how boring the world is up here…’
and the ostrich buried its head under ground
and said: ‘The darkness is vast;
It is infinite…’



he he ha ha
moo moo
moo moo
ma ma
ma ma
da di dum dum





sing a song of nonsense
of absolute lack of sense
for people who are
so, so important and busy
they have no time to waste

Come Sir, I shall
take you across
safe and easy
in my small boat
across the river


we are all
crossing all the time
going places
and passing stages;
let me help you
on this one, Sir

a small fee is all I ask
and really it’ll be a
pleasant journey across;
you can put your
hands in the cool water
while I paddle us across

I was born here
in the sheds along the shore;
I learned my trade
as soon as I could walk;
all my life has been here
and this is where
I shall be all my days

It’s all good, Sir, for me
if I can do a good turn
as you pass by;
and so you might
also do me a good turn
at the end
giving me a deserved fee
that I can bring to my
wife and children

Come Sir, I shall
take you across
safe and easy
in my small boat
across the river

and it all disappears, does it not?
age and the times and the memories
and the friends and the dads
and moms and siblings;
and nations and affiliations
and the lovers and the sweethearts
and the rose and the berries;
and the days and nights and the snow
on the bare branches;
and the years crawl away
and words become inaudible in space
and we wake up to the birds at the windows
and find it all disappears…slips away
as silently as falling snow…

all night
loveliest moon
all night just past
and many before
and all nights now
I stay awake
and look out
at the dirt road
that leads to my door;
all night I stay hopeful
and though many nights
you shine bright
and the path is lit up
all night I did not see her come
nor did I hear any knock at the door;
all nights
loveliest moon
I wait
but you do not bring her home;
your gentle rays
loveliest moon
your gentle rays extend far
and surely
you touch her cheeks too
and so will you not
light up the way
for her to find again
the dirt track up to my door?
or persuade her
with the power you have over minds
over the living and dead
O light up the way
loveliest moon
and do the impossible
and bring my dead love back home

Part 1 At the Saint’s Book Store (Singapore, 1970)


when I was just 15
and just after
a trip to the National Library
I saw a slim volume
at the Saint’s Book Store
(named after a TV series
and true to the borrowed name,
a second-hand book store)
and its spine said: Kama Sutra


Now that’s a title
they don’t have at the National library,
I mused
and I took it down off the shelf
and stood, agape -
transported to Ancient India
by the very seductive picture
on the cover page;
didn’t make me feel like a saint at all


but my reader’s instinct
got the better of me
and so I opened the book
in which the Introduction
ran boringly longer
than the main meat of the text
and so I went on to
Vatsyayana’s
own enigmatic words


This I must have-
I said to myself,
after only five pages of Vatsyayana
and the sticker label on the
used book replied: $2.50
I bought the book
and walked home
and had no lunch that day






Part 2 ***** Science


What are you reading?
asked little Somu,
a year younger than I was


It’s a Science book,
I said, turning away from him

If it’s a Science book,
the little rascal said,
why are you hiding it behind
another science book?


Mind your own business,
I said,
Hardly taking my eyes
off Vatsyayana’s classic


I’ll mind my own
if you tell me what it is;
otherwise dad
will come to know of it-
and you won’t be able to tell
him to mind his own business


Oh! I said, angry and afraid,
and I threw down my books
(the cover book and the hidden book).
You’re too young for such things.


But he looked at me
as only a dangerous blackmailer can
and I yielded to his request -
I would summarize aloud each chapter
for him as I finished reading each
(That’s the trouble when
fate throws you in
with siblings who don’t read)



And day in and day out
over the next few weeks
I summarized the Kama Sutra –
no, I don’t think I summarized,
I extemporized,
I added details, I confess –
for the benefit of non-reading Somu
that silly pumpkin of a brother
who didn’t understand a word of what I said!






Part 3: Weird History



That night as we lay
on our mats on the floor
Somu asked me:
You know…I was thinking.…
ever since you provided
your summary of the Kama Sutra
delivered in such melodramatic actor’s voice…
I’ve been wondering….Do you think Dad knows
the Kama Sutra?



Oh, I said immediately.
How would
dad know
about the Kama Sutra?
It’s been banned In India
since the middle ages.
He only knows
Hare Rama, Hare Rama…
Now, maybe it’d do you good
to repeat the mantra 100 times
and go to sleep…
You might end up in Vaikunta.


And then insomniac Somu said:
What’s that book you were reading
this afternoon
covered behind your
school History Text Book?


Oh God! Nothing escapes the eyes
of this sibling who came a year after me;
and I had to make an honest reply
or he’d pursue me to the ends of the earth:
Oh, it’s another book
I found at the Saint’s Book Store;
it’s called The Perfumed Garden;
it’s in Arabic and you won’t understand a word;
you can read it when you’re fifty
because that’s how long it’ll take me to translate the work


Somu, the silly sibling ever,
sat up on his mat and looked at me suspiciously:
When did you learn Arabic?
You can’t even read Tamil properly,
you monolingual Indian!



And irritated, I said:
Oh shut up and sleep…
Don’t you go digging into what I do.
I learn all sorts of things in my own time –
and you’re best, little brother,
to stick to Hare Rama, Hare Rama
Or Hara Hara, Siva Siva…




And for that,
the traitor of a brother told all our school mates
I was reading ***** Science
and weird History!







Part 4: The Puritans Come Home



What is a young boy
just turned fifteen,
said the outraged visitor to my father
doing with a copy of Kama Sutra?
And he pointed his bony finger
at me, sitting with my brother Somu
and his thirteen-year-old son Kittu;
we kids sat on the floor
and the dignified adults
sat elevated on the sofa

And he continued:
So, tell me,
what is a young boy like
that doing with erotica?
Is this the time for him?
This is the time for him to study
his textbooks and do his homework.
And the outraged father
pointed his finger at my sheepish father
and he continued:
Your son goes to the same school as my son –
and I’m afraid he’ll be a bad influence.
At History lessons and Literature class,
my son reports,
your boy asked the teachers why
they don’t teach Kama Sutra.
This is outrageous and crazy!



My father looked at me
but couldn’t see my eyes
thanks to my state-welfare
horn-rimmed glasses
and he said to the outraged visitor:
I don’t know…
He reads all sorts of stuff…
He discovers all these books
at the National Library
and bookshops…
He’s read Gandhi’s biography…
and now it appears
he’s discovered Kama Sutra…
Should we really stop him?



The uncertain father slumped in the sofa;
but the outraged father jumped up
dragged his son Kittu to the door
and he turned around and said:
You call these discoveries?
Get him to stick his nose
in his school textbooks!
He will come to no good!
He will bring you shame!
You call these discoveries?
I’m not coming here anymore –
and turning to his son
he said:
Don’t ever talk to that boy;
don’t you ever be near him!

And off they went,
Outraged Father and Trembling Son
into Dusty History.





Conclusion


My father and I looked at each other;
not a word was said –
and he is not here today
for a translation of what I write here now


As for my little brother
that traitor who had told Kittu,
I took both books
The Kama Sutra and The Perfumed Garden
and hit him smack on his head:
and he has remained
stunted physically and mentally ever since








Postscript



What’s that thick book,
said Somu two weeks later,
on the shelf?

That’s Origin of Species
by someone called Charles Darwin,
I said.

Is it one of those ***** books?
he asked.

I think so, I said. I heard some religions
have it blacklisted
so it must be *****.

And what’s that one beside it?

That’s Shakespeare, I said. Complete Works.

Is it another of your ***** books?
said Somu.



Well, I said to this juvenile sibling
just a year younger than I.
There must be many ***** parts in the volume…
You can never escape dirt…it’s all part of life.

OK, it’s not something I ate
or my youthful wild days
catching up with me;
no – it’s not me taking turns to be
grumpy, and jumpy and mean-looking;
no, it’s not me dissatisfied with
my place in the food chain
or my place in the wild scheme of things;
or just being unhappy about the effects on me
in the wild accidents of evolution
or being a victim of Irrational Creation
or just unhappy in an existential sort of way
asking questions like:
What’s the meaning of it all?
Or
Is there a Heaven for Frogs
or are we just Dinner for the French?
and finding it all a Cruel Joke played on us frogs
by some Celestial Omnipotent Frog Being;
no, nor is it for want of ****** partners -
I mean I do croak-sing well enough
and I mount well enough
and get partners often enough during the mating season;
no, it’s not that at all…
I don’t know…I’m just a frog
and it’s the nature of frog existence,
I guess…

I am Yun Du-seo,
dearest fellow-beings;
I lived in Korea
and this is my self-portrait
I send to you as a greeting
from the past;
I had my life to art
and loved my fellow-beings
and the creatures of the earth;
and I send this to you
just a human face
to a time that will perhaps
be more enlightened
or sunk deep in violence…
I do not know…
But I send you this face of mine
as a fellow-human being
not so much that you might guess
and confer who I was and what I did
and what I stood for and what I agonized over
but I send you this face
that you might see all of us in
and perhaps to see in this portrait
a oneness and sameness
that we can all celebrate across nations
and creed and ages;
celebrate then, friends, if this comes to you
in radiant times,
and if not, make amends…
I, Yun Du-seo,
send my love to my fellow-beings
and all life and creatures of the earth…

Sorry - login failed....
OK...easy - of course it's me;
I’m authentic, not me pretending to be me
or someone else pretending to be me
or me pretending to be Swine Poet;
no, it’s not
Swim Goggles masquerading as Noodles Mee;
or Pretty Pig pretending to be Ugly Duckling;
so let’s try again – it’s easy…sure, I know my password….
OK….
Sorry – login failed….
OK…
it’s easy....I’ll give you my username
and here’s password…Enter…here we go…
Sorry – login failed….
Hey! You’re joking with me, right?
you know it’s me, and you’re just kidding, right?
What?
If at first you don’t succeed – try, try again…
OK, OK…let’s go again….
Sorry – login failed….
Hey, man – or woman, this is serious…
Oh I see – my thick fingers
might have landed on 9 instead of 8
and on g instead of f –
you see? It’s me….I’ll try and use my most slender fingers
and avoid my thick fingers…
Knock and the door shall be opened…
OK…here we go…username…hmmmmm….easy now….
slender fingers, remember….OK….password….careful now….
use slender fingers only….Enter! Yipppppeeeeee!
Sorry - login failed....
Hey- it appears I’m thick-headed as well!
Come on – give me a chance!
It’s almost like being denied at Heaven’s doors!
I’m having an identity crisis here, baby!
You want to see me have a breakdown and
send me to a madhouse, or what?
All right, all right…cool down…easy….easy…calm…
Take a deep breath….
Username…OK….slender fingers, now…eyes on keyboard…
…Password….slender fingers, remember….eyes on keyboard….
Now, all good….I think….Want to say a prayer?
Come on – it’s not that serious….Alright….ENTER!
Yes – I’m in! Hey guys – here I am!

You useless man, Socrates -
I think you need a shower…
I don’t know what the Athenians
find in you but as far as I can see you’re just wasting time
hanging out in the market places
and at dinners and symposiums
where all you do is stay late drinking nights
and talk about philosophy, and ideas
and of origin of things and justice
and nature of human beings
and such useless, impractical things;
and you bring not a cent home
and I can’t count on you for regular support
as all women and good wives might expect of a husband;
and you can’t even hold a good argument with me
for all you do when I use my Xanthippe’s questioning method
against your so-called Socratic method
all you do is mumble and tumble
and use words like shrew and nag
when all I’m asking of you is for you
to keep your part of the implied bargain in marriage
to put some food on the table
and bring some silver coins for the future of our three children:
Lamprocles, Sophroniscus and Menexenus -
have you forgotten them? Do you even remember their names?
And so you bring no money
but instead all you give me are empty words
and lofty words and airy words
and words coined in your head
and you put silly ideas that’s just confusing our children
and if not for me taking the children under my wings
they’ll just turn out to be mere
talkers and market-place prattlers
and hangers-on and leeches at other men’s feasts.
They may have a place in misguided history
if they follow your way
but they will bring weak bodies to their wives
when it is their time.
I don’t want them to be talkers,
and idealists and philosophers, Socrates –
I want them to be responsible
and I want them to bring meat and coins home
regularly and steadily, Socrates.
Socrates, you old man, I don’t care what they say of you
in the Greek world –
I haven’t had proof of your worth and value
here at home, especially in the kitchen.
You useless man, I think you need a shower;
maybe this water from the chamber-*** will wake you up.

Mum, says little Sara

Yes, darling, says Mum

Let's not sleep tonight.

Why, sweetheart?

Cos, mom, have you never thought about it?
the world might disappear when we sleep
and when we wake
it may never come back;
so let's watch over the world tonight
as everybody else sleeps

O no, Sara, it won't;
the world will still be there

No, mom, have you never thought about it?
Like a cloud, mom,
if you don't watch it
it will move
and sometimes change and disappear...
and so let's not sleep, for the world may
be different when we wake...

OK, sweetheart, sleep...
Mom will watch over for you.

But you must sleep...
cos if you don't sleep tonight
and I sleep
I might wake up in a different world,
so please, you must sleep when I sleep

OK, sweetheart, Mom will sleep...

But mum, we should not sleep...
have you not thought about it?
OK, while we sleep
the world might move around
and re-arrange itself
so people in China might wake up in America
and India will wake up in Iceland
and Mexico might be a city in France
and so mum, let's not sleep tonight
or everything might move round
and you and I might wake up on the moon

No, darling I'll tell the stars and the sun
and the moon and the land and the oceans
to stay still while we sleep
while darling Sara sleeps
Sara?
Sara?
Oh, you're already asleep..
Good night, darling...

1

if you meet
a snake with fangs
as large as sore thumbs
don’t put your hand out and say:
'How do you do?'
Otherwise
it’d might take a bite
and it’d say:
'How do you do?'


if you meet
an alien
in the streets
don’t say:
'Hey, what you’re
doing in my territory?'
he’d might just zap
you with his laser gun and say:
'Oh, I just dropped in to say:
Earthling, buzz off!'


if you meet God in the streets
just don’t say:
'Who do you think you are?'
for the most certain answer
from that loony would be:
'I’m God…'


if you meet the Devil in the streets –
well, you just shouldn’t be
meeting anyone like that;
just run!



2

if you meet a ghost
in the shadows
of your garden
(or anywhere
for that matter)
don’t say:
'How does it feel there?'
because it may just jump in
and say:
'Hey, it feels good to be in you.'


if you find
your pillow
on the floor
when you wake
in the middle of the night
just don’t say:
'What you doing on the floor?'
just grab it
tuck it under your head and say:
'Just stay there!'



if you find Old Jenny grandma’s dentures
in a glass beside your bed
when you wake up in the middle of the night
don’t say:
'Old Grandma – what are your dentures doing here?'
It’s yours, remember? – you are Old Jenny Grandma!


if you meet a bird in the streets
resting on a lamp post
whatever you do
just don’t stand below the light
for you never know what might land on you


if you meet me
in the streets
just don’t stretch out your hand
and don’t say:
'How do you do?'
because I’ll have to you give you the boot –
Cos, hey, I’m Bigfoot!

1
when first I heard the radio
when I was just about four
in a tiny village in India
I thought I was hearing things
but mom said:
'Don’t worry, rasa -
it’s just the radio…'


2
when first I heard
the voice on the other side of the line
I nearly jumped out of my skin
but the salesperson said:
'Don’t worry;
that’s not the devil
that’s just the marvel of the telephone'


3
when now I hear voices
when I’m in my shower
and I ask my wife and children:
'Did you guys want to talk to me?'
they answer:
'Why would we?
You’d better wash your ears;
You’re hearing things…'

1
when first I saw moving images
of bugs and insects and butterflies
on a screen in the classroom
I screamed that I might need
to go see the school nurse
but my teacher said:
'Don’t worry, kid;
that’s television…'


2
when I saw images on my mobile phone
I burped aloud
my sense of wonder
and asked the girl if I was seeing things;
and the sales girl said:
'Please sir, it’s no wonder;
that’s just mobile technology…'


3
When now I see my end
at the height of my H1N1 fever
and I tell my wife:
'Four and twenty fair virgins
all blondes
they beckon me…'

'Darling,' my wife says,
with her knuckles smack on my head:
'That’s just your imagination
in your old age and desperation…
Now, you’re really seeing things!'

Hey Sun, look Man -
I can move around and hop
and I can run around
even at 70km/h;
I can kangaroo fight and kick for a mate
and I can go all across the land -
and you?
All you can do is to spin and spin
and crawl over the sky
and burn and lose all your hair
and burn and show your temper in solar flares


Hey you, Sun, look Man -
I can stand on three using my tail as well
and jump around like a ping pong
and you, all you can do is
to shine and burn and try and look bright.
Hey you, Sun, look Man –
what can you do?


And the Sun
burned hot and showed its temper
and the continent was parched
and heat waves came with fire and smoke
and the creeks and rivers went dry
and the Kangaroo could find no shade;
and then the kangaroo said, with a grin:
Hey God Sun…
you needn’t take my words so seriously, eh?

Do my eyes fail me?
Is the light of the sun useless?
for though in daylight I have walked abroad
from the confined barrel I live in
away from the rats
away a while from the stray dogs
that congregate outside my hovel
that want a bit of my sack of carrots
and discarded meat
that I picked up from the market;
and though I walked often with firm steps and keen eyes
I did not see a man, a woman, a human worth their salt;
and so I walk now
(for perhaps my eyes do fail me
and the light of the sun and moon is perhaps an illusion)
and so I walk now with a lantern even in broad daylight
and still I do not see a man, a woman, a human worth their salt;
what I see are swirls of violence and greed and pettiness
and whorls of self-preoccupation and bigotry and ignorance
and narrowness
all encased in flesh and bones:
leave me Sirs and sweet-dressed and made-up Ladies
and Children corrupt in the World of Adult Fanfare;
leave me and let me go on my quest further afield
as far as the lantern will allow me
even in this bright day ruled by the sun
and ruined by you Sneering Living Beings;
leave me to wander as far to see if I cannot perhaps find a human
in some corner….a surprise as one might find
a gold coin in some dark corner….
And I so hope that today perhaps I shall find
the human this bright day
by the light of this lantern
and not like yesterday and all days before
search in vain till the lantern light dies
and crawl back to my hovel
not finding one free of these or at least sincere,
and so worthy of the name of human…

Quack! Quack! Quack!
Ok, where’s everybody?
I’ve been gliding round in this pond the last half
hour singing my Duck-thoven tunes:
Quack! Quack! Quack
Quack!Quack! Quack!
And so why’s everyone avoiding me
like I don’t know how to make conversation?
Quack? Quack?
The other day the duckling glided near
and asked if I’d share bits of the bread
thrown to me by
these pesky humans who can’t
read the Don’t-feed-the-ducks signs
and I swallowed the bread bits whole and said:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
And the silly duckling ran away crying! –
Hey how can I answer with food in my mouth?
Quack! Quack! Quack!
Your mum taught you to speak with food in your mouth?
Quack! Quack! Quack!
Have you got any brains in that quacking head of yours, duckling?

Really, no reason to avoid me…
I mean the other day they asked me what
I think about the environment and I said:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
and they all looked astonished
at the wisdom of my words.
So why avoid me now?
This cute **** duck glided quite close to me
and asked me what I thought about pre-marital ***
and I said: Quack! Quack! Quack!
and I flapped my wings and walked on water
and held my head high with the sweetest:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
and that silly female duck jumped to the overhanging branches
and refused to come down for all my quacking:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
Seriously, what’s this all about? –
You excite a ****** duck and then hide in the branches?
What’s this pond coming to!

The other day a silly fish swam close to me and asked
for directions round the pond and I said:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
And the fish said: Hey! I don’t understand Duck language.
Don’t you speak Finglish?

What the Duck! I said. Why don’t you learn Quacklish!
Quack!Quack!Quack!


So where’s everybody?
And really I don’t understand why
everyone’s avoiding me.
I mean really I can qua-ttle off the Entire History of the Pond
and the Holy Texts Revealed by Duck God to the Duck Prophets
and I can quack about anything and I can quack
about all the wines and grog
and I can teach the creatures how to change pond water into wine;
and I can quack about all the delicacies in the pond
and I can sing too, listen:
Quack! Quack! Quack!
And such a delightful voice and such original tunes too!
A graduate of Duck-kovsky Underwater Academy.
And so – hey! – where’s everybody?
Why do they avoid me like I’ve got the Swine Flu or something?
Hey, I’m just a pond duck who likes to Quack! Quack! Quack!
You got a problem with that, you quacks!

I, Kinmgo Kaput, Lord of the Three Grand Lands
that Sink Every Time there is a Flood;
I, Lord of the Queen of The All Basins that Deliver
Rich Harvests and Rice and Lentils and that rules
the Nether Rooms in the Mansions;
I, Pharaoh and Lord of All Kingdoms
that ever existed before my Time on this Wretched Earth;
I, Lord of the Rich Lands and Lord of Wood and Metal
and Lord of a Thousand Such Designations;
I, King, Emperor, Pharaoh, Son of Heaven
and Descended of Stars;
I do solemnly swear and declare
you a Nincompoop for reading this, wasting your time idly
looking at lines not worth the space they inhabit;
You, waster of time reading lines of second-rate verse
rather than feeding the poor
or offering your hours at the House of the Wretched;
You, waster of time reading poems and verse
not worth the alphabet the language inhabits –
You, I declare a Nincompoop
and may you waste your hours in the Underworld
translating the lives of Ants into clay tablets of verse
that disappear after each line you carve;
and may you, nincompoop who wastes such time reading such empty verse,
may you so waste eternity

And thus have I spoken and thus is it recorded on this wall,
the Solemn Words (no laughing or sneering there!)
Of Kinmgo Kaput, Lord of the Three Basins
That have been left Unwashed
by the Queen who lords over Home

What will you do
Tiny Tim;
what will you do
when you’re grown
and big like your daddy?

I’ll be working on the moon
harvesting moon rice;
and I’ll send you moonbeams back
in cans
that you can put in your room
to glow all night

What will you do
Little Lin;
what will you do
when you’re grown
and big like your mom?

I’ll be teaching earth sciences
at the University of Pluto;
I’ll be teaching aliens
to learn from the rights and wrongs
of our human race

What will you do
tiny Amardeep;
what will you do
when you’re grown
and big like your Uncle Jasbir?*

I’ll be building bridges, Uncle;
I’ll be building bridges
between Mars and Jupiter
and space tunnels
between Earth and Saturn

Let’s go mummy,
let’s mummy;
let’s to the shops -
we need to get a few good things

Nothing for me,
honest not a thing for me:
just maybe for little Tom;
he’s been crying
you know, mommy;
he’s been crying
and we’ll get him a few biscuits
and a toy or two
for it’s been a week
we got him anything


Let’s go mummy,
let’s mummy;
let’s to the shops -
we need to get a few good things


Nothing for me,
honest not a thing for me:
just for busy Daddy;
he’s not shaved in a week
if you’ve noticed;
we need to get him
those throwaway blades
and those nice-smelling water in a bottle
he puts on his face;
he’s too busy
and he’s just not been looking smart
the past week


Let’s go mummy,
let’s mummy;
let’s to the shops -
we need to get a few good things


Nothing for me,
honest not a thing for me;
just for you
I’ve got three coins saved
my sweet mummy
who’s always thinking of all of us;
maybe a coffee and cake for you
while little Tom and I play
in the children’s corner;
and maybe some shampoo too
and lipstick, just for you
all with the three coins
I’ve got in my pink purse


Let’s go mummy,
let’s mummy;
let’s to the shops -
we need to get a few good things


Nothing for me,
honest not a thing for me;
but sweet mummy that you are
you always think of me
and if you insist
well, like you might say:
“But darling, we haven’t got anything for you” –
well, if you insist,
I’ve made a list
I’ve got it in my pink purse
along with the three coins
I’ve saved just for you


So let’s go mummy,
let’s mummy;
let’s to the shops -
we need to get a few good things

slow time on the escalator
easy baby;
a life of leisure
and idle moments...
tra la la la li

head held high and proud
one foot on one step
and one foot lower:
it’s the picture of grace and ease;
it’s cool baby

stand leaning
with no care in the world
chatting with your friend
and let your new floral skirts
wipe clean the glass sides;
life’s a breeze
on the escalator,
fashion baby

hands on the handrail
and the other waving at friends
waiting at the end;
shake hands when you’re down
and pass the germs on
to your cheerful buddies;
O life’s a breeze
on the escalator,
bouncy baby

it’s like a slow-motion movie
this chic life on the escalator
as still as when you stand window-shopping
gazing at new lingerie on display
like admiring a field of flowers:
O live the moment
baby,
this escalator life’s cool and easy


slow time on the escalator
easy baby;
a life of leisure
and idle moments...
tra la la la li

And Adam
said to God:
Daddy! Daddy!

What now?
sighed God,
quite irritated.

Daddy, daddy -
where's mummy?
asked Adam.

God thought
for a while
and He said:
O, I got rid of her.


But why, Daddy?
asked Adam


Oh, she was
too much of an inconvenience,
came the quick reply.


And as quickly
Adam said:
That mound, Daddy -
that mound
in the middle of the garden,
I've always suspected -
is that Mum, Daddy?

And Adam
said to God:
Daddy! Daddy!

What now?
sighed God,
quite irritated.

Daddy, daddy -
where's mummy?
asked Adam.

God thought
for a while
and He said:
O, I got rid of her.


But why, Daddy?
asked Adam

Oh, she was
too much of an inconvenience,
came the quick reply.

When Adam
first saw God
he said:
Daddy! Daddy!

And God said:
Hey! Stop calling me that!
Don't you get too familiar with me, boy!

Oh, said Adam,
but you created me
so why can't I call you Daddy?

NO! thundered Mighty God.
And that is that!

OK, said Adam.
How about I call you Dr Frankenstein?

1
I don’t know
about you
but my fingernails
they keep growing
like Pinnochio’s nose;
I pare them
and keep them neat and short
and when I look again a week later
they’ve grown and seem to say:
So what you’re going to do about it?
It’d be alright if you were a woman,
but as a man
everyone expects you to keep us short and neat.


Oh, I just can’t bear
these decades of nail-taunting
and my computer calculations show
a quarter of my life is wasted trimming my fingernails
and with a quarter in sleep
half my life is gone between nails and snores

Well now -
I’m never again cutting my fingernails
I’ll just let them grow
and grow;
and as far as I care
they can grow like Jack’s beanstalk


2
Sure, the concerned
amongst you might say:
Oh, that’s not a good idea
to let your fingernails grow

But to you, I say:
Have you even considered
the advantages if I had long fingernails?
I could literally reach out to you
wherever you are
and not just through the internet
but with the help of GPS technology
and google maps
I could locate you precisely
and give you a tickle!
Now, wouldn’t you love that!



3
And when I’m famous
a fingernail celebrity
and people come to meet me
and want to shake my hands
I’d say: Hey, shake my nails instead!

And if I’m walking in the streets
and anyone wants my help, I’d say:
Yeah – you scratch my back
and I scratch yours!


4
And of course you might say
(Oh how so concerned you are):
But how will you use your keyboard
to type your awful nail-biting poems?
And so I say to you:
Hey, where do you live?
In a cave in Siberia or what?
Haven’t you heard of speech to voice technology?

And so, dear friends,
I don’t know about you
but it’s long nails for me
and if somewhere in the world
as you are driving or reading a book
or while at a picnic
if you see nails reaching out to you
from across the oceans and skies
and giving you a tickle,
you know it’s me, your nail-some friend….

where we are
each
past time and land
we’ll be there
in one space
and one loving ground
and we’ll love
like beasts on heat
we’ll know our love
and all time wasted burn
in one animal mate;
Oh, we’ll love first the body
and the mind
for we’ll have all eternity
darling, for the soul and such sweet things
but first we’ll transcend the time and place
that bind us to confines and unknowing
and we’ll be driven to the same mating ground
darling
where’ we’ll discover the temporal love
of the flesh and attraction and matter
and propagation
and leave eternal love for eternal times;
we’ll love like all our lives depend on it
darling
we’ll love like the very survival of earth
and the human race depended on it;
darling
we’ll love like
everything is dependent on
the way we rock in bed

they reject
different lovers
that’s lovers who
are different, don’t they?
but we are different
in their eyes
though our hearts do not tell us so
and we love
it’s you and I
and though the world
may point to color and language and region
and put up barriers of creed and dogma
and funnily enough
they all teach love and then put it aside
when it comes to practice
which means they really preach love with conditions
which is not love, is it?
but we in love
we put aside everything
for it is love
that renewed radiant moment that matters
and all there is
the love untainted;
let them talk of differences;
we celebrate love

he loves me
I know
of all the women
he’s seen
I don’t know why
but time seems
to have shaped his mind and heart for me
and the days
they seem to have set his feet
on the path towards me
It’s clear as daylight
he loves me
of all the girls
and the women
he’s got his heart for me
he just loves me;
and I just him

I just love you
sweet woman
I saw you and I love you
I’m not a poet
or a singer
nor gifted with
skillful brushes
to convey
this feeling in my
heart and mind
I don’t even know
if the words I choose are right
or inapt
I just know
sweet angel of my heart
I just know and that’s all I want to say:
I love you; I do

we are the conventional lovers
the respectable ones
we are tight-lipped and we never
argue or disagree in public
and even in private we will not raise our voices
lest unseen people might hear us;
we are the respectable lovers
who bring up children
to never reveal their feelings
and to arm themselves with degrees and sobriety
and wide connections and prestige ambitions
and whose grades are the best in the nation;
and our conversations
are of what school our children attend
and what marks they attain
and our lives to drive them around
for achievement lessons;
ah, this is why we love
this why we marry
for the sake of our duty to society,
respectability
our religion, the nation and for the posterior,
Oh, I mean - for posterity

we are the pure lovers
Oh we are so, so very pure
we only love because of love
we expect nothing
Oh we are so pure, pure, pure
our souls meet and blend and mix
and for us there is such harmony of souls
and we are so pure, pure, pure
we are so pure in our love
we don’t even touch fingers
none of those ***** touch and ******* for us
no thank you
as we are so pure, pure, pure
as honey in the trees;
and when it was time for offspring
as is proper and one's duty
we closed our eyes and covered all parts
of our bodies
and we did not partake of sensual pleasures
for we remembered our pure origin and soul-divinity
to bear offspring
but not be touched by pleasures
as we are so pure, pure, pure
and now we teach our children
the beauty of purity in love
Oh for love so pure, pure, pure

sweet love
come
gentle love
we’ll stand before the altar
of flowers that bloom on the arms of trees
and with the fish in the embracing lake;
and moss and soft grass on the ground
and clouds kissed by the benign sun
we’ll have our hands tied with vines together
dearest love
with flowers in your hair
and for humor, grapes balanced
on my head;
and while squirrels watch from up the branches
we’ll have little girls dressed as Flora
and boys as trees
and the choir will sing songs of nature
and the birds will float lazy
and we’ll wait till the moon rises
and the celebrant will sing at our marriage
and we’ll walk into the water
and hug and kiss underwater
and come out to be dressed with
the ceremony of the light, myrrh and wine
and stay the night in a tent
guarded by guests who drink and celebrate all night
and it will be such love and life
sweet love
the conventional world will say,
oh let’s do our marriage again –
a marriage updated in these times
a marriage held in nature’s arms

He whispered he’d love me forever
so I had his name in a heart
tattooed on my back;
a year later I fell in love again
and this time I whispered I’d love forever
so I had this other eternal love’s name in radiant sun
tattooed just below my belly button

Years have passed
and when I have a new love
he seems to gaze
at either side of my body
and never comes back at all

“Hey," I call to one of them.
“You promised to love me forever
the night when we made love
in the couch in my place -
and now you refuse to answer my calls.
What happened?”


“Well,” he asks,
“what happened to the eternal love
Tom promised you on your back?
And what about Sam’s eternal love
just below your belly button?”

Oh these men,
they’re so unreasonable,
and so childishly jealous…

a maiden’s heart broken
we bury here in the grave;
we bless her
and wish her god speed
and that she leaves all pain here on earth
and we pray that all blessings be hers
as she goes forth
to meet her one true Lord in Heaven
a maiden betrayed by her espoused true love
here on earth;
and we
the nuns who attend to this burial
we in each heart
we too bury
a maiden’s broken heart
betrayed by one’s true love
by the world’s harshness
but meet our Maker even now
even now in confined spaces on earth itself
to transcend the pain of betrayed trust,
of betrayed love, of life taken beyond flesh

let us go with no care
just the basic necessities,
sweetheart;
just the proper care
and due diligence for the times afar
but not forgetting each other
for that’s all
that’s the only we have
here and now
though time’s waves
might roll our boat forwards
as they please;
but then time is a fool
for it does not know
we have each other
here and now
always here and now…

1
My mother would say:
“Little boy Raj…
Go to Muthu’s
and get some
cinnamon, betel leaves
and ginger and garlic”

And so I go to the shops
singing all the way
and when Muthu asks me
what I’d want
I rattle off a list:
“Sesame seeds, onions
tomatoes and pickles”

And back home,
Mother twists my ears

Ouch!


2
And inevitably I grew up
and inevitably I got married
and inevitably my wife says to me:
“Dear husband whom
I married in a fire-ceremony;
could you kindly go to Woolies
and get me some
flour, castor sugar,
pepper, pasta sauce and pancakes…”


And so I drive to Woolies
singing all the way;
and walking down the aisles
I throw the following
into the trolley:
cinnamon, betel leaves
and ginger and garlic…

And back home
though my wife does not twist my ears
I feel Mother reach forward
from the other world
and she twists my ears

Ouch!

NOTE TO POET, RAT ALUMUGUM:

Dear Sir
I saw your profile
on this site
I love your
profile
and methinks
I fall in love with you
you can send me
email
my email address is:
realhotsexbomb@badmailgirls.com
Write 2 mee
and I slew you my ****, **** pix…
and maybe we can live happily ever after




DEAR REALHOTSEXBOMB:

I want to write to you
and give you all I got
but since the last time I gave all I got
I think it was to dirtybombgirl
my wife sits beside me
at the computer
and makes me read aloud every note
and every item on the screen I see
and she forces my fingers on the keypad
and she says –
her words, not mine
and her misspelling, not mine
and her opinion of me, not mine:
"Get off my idiotic man
u beach!
Don’t you steel him
and his money;
God knows
I've waited long enough
for him to die!
Go find some other sucker;
this sucker is mine!"

Thank you for visiting this page.
Please press 5 on your keyboard
to proceed.
Thank you for pressing 5.
That was just to ensure you are alert and active
and doing something instead
of falling asleep as you read this poem.
Press 4.
Press 2.
And 6. And 8. And 9.
See, that keeps you awake.
As we were saying:
Welcome.
And to read the poem
please press 8.
Did you?
No, you didn’t!
We didn’t even feel a thing!
Please note
your reading and responses may be recorded
by a mind-reader and
your feelings as you read
this poem will be e-captured
by a soul-reader.
If you do not wish to be recorded
please press 9.
And 10.
And 2534.
And 6. And 8.
Now, please be informed you’ll still be recorded anyway
for training purposes
as this ****** poet here has no idea what poetry is.
Press 7 for fun.
And now press 229 for distraction.
Good. Your pressing skills have improved since we started.
Now, you may read the poem:
“Jack and Jill
went up the hill
and Jack came running back to mummy:
‘Mummy! Mummy!’
said Jack
‘Jill pulled my pants down
and poured ice-cold water
on either side
of my bottom!’”


When you finish reading
please press 23567876549807975987
and just for the heck of it
press 8.
Wow, that feels nice.
Thank you.
Now, that you have read the poem
and pressed a few numbers like a thoroughbred idiot
we are processing our reading
of your responses
as you read the poem.
Please hold on; this may take a few seconds;
you may hug the computer screen while you wait;
and please minimize that **** page immediately.
And for the fun of it,
we suggest you press 13.
And here is the result of your reading this idiotic poem
as revealed by our recordings of your responses and feelings:
You blady isdizot! You &&&%%$$^# !!!!!
You hate this poem! You think this is 67757####!
Get out of here, you nicmo9088768!
Never ever come back here to this page!


Now if you like – you may press 9…
Now you may hang up and return to that **** page you minimized.
Please call again – no, not at the **** page
but here at the Idiot Writes Idiot Poems Page…
Thank you. Please press 5 before you hang up.
Oh, that feels so good…could you press – hey!
Come back here!

did you die,
Ophelia?
did you drown yourself?
I heard you looked
pretty and glorious
in your best dress
and with flowers
all ready to meet your Maker;
they tell me it was so beautiful
one could only cry to see you in the water…
did you **** yourself
darling Ophelia
because I told you to go join a nunnery?
did you think
your love’s words
meant a nunnery is the same as death
and so honored mad Hamlet’s words that way?
you could have chosen a drier type of death,
you know – though death by drowning,
dearest Ophelia,
dying in a stream and being wet
you save the living the trouble of washing you…
did you die, did you drown
darling Ophelia
thinking
Poor, poor Hamlet is gone mad…?
…thinking….
There is nothing left when a noble soul
goes insane…
did you die,
Ophelia?
did you drown yourself?
or is that just some new fashion you’ve invented
darling Ophelia
of taking a beauty bath?

today I see you
in the couch and at the table
it’s a picture there in the mind
even when I’m away;
the picture of ease and comfort
sweetheart
the moment of peace and quiet
and radiant energy
that is you
that brings in one’s heart all delight and stillness
and that washes the dirt and dust of the world
that settles on one;
this is the image that resides, that abides
sweetheart
by sight and memory
embracing all of one’s consciousness
in the benign light of your being

there is the spirit as they might say
and love is Divine as they might decree
in those Heavy Books -
yet there is the manifest body,
sweetheart
there is one that is you
and one that’s me;
and as ancient poets and seers have said
all the earth’s topography
its mountains and grass and lakes
and water and fire and air
all of the earth is here in the body
so it is only proper
we explore the body
wide and deep within
perhaps to see if we can catch the spirit

time does not wither you
sweetheart
time crawls away before you;
for though the weather’s
adulterous touches may show
and cares may draw lines on the brows
and you might touch your hands and back
and sigh: “I think my skin is getting rough with time”
- there is a glow in your heart
and nothing diminishes that ever;
there is always that radiance,
that radiance of you that is light
the radiance that was there when we first met
is ever there
and life is always still and quiet
in admiration in your presence
and time is pale with shame
for thinking it can diminish you;
but seeing that the admirers of your shine
and those beings who sit in the embrace of your warmth
have only increased over the years
and that what you give glows ever
like the sun rays over the hills and valleys
time is humbled before you -
yes, how can
time wither you?
sweetheart
time crawls away before you

the flowers of spring
are not as lovely as you;
the mountain air in solitude
not as pure as you

I saw you only once
in the Grand House of the Lord of the Lands
and we exchanged glances as you sang
And though you sang
from a printed text for all
your eyes gave me
songs of longing and love


O where are you now
most gentle beloved?
I hear your owners move you
at the request of the Grand Lords
and though I
come to so many sessions
in which you might sing
and hoping each night
I might see you again
as I carry cups and meat for the feasting Lords
and that there as you deliver them the songs in the texts
I come that
you might look again at me
and give me the songs in your eyes


the flowers of spring
are not as lovely as you;
the mountain air in solitude
not as pure as you

1
full of faith and belief
I prayed and prayed;
and at long last God
(don’t imagine a He or She)
said to me:
“I’m moved by your faith.
Is there something you’d like?”

I shook my head.

And God smiled
and said:
“Would you like
some gold, oil and money?”

“No,” I said
and prayed and prayed.


“A never-ending supply
of food, perhaps?”
asked God.

“No, no,” I said,
and prayed and prayed.

“The gift of poetry, perhaps?”
asked God.

“No, no, never that.
What, you want to ruin me?”
I said,
and prayed and prayed.


“Wealth? Fame?
A good obedient wife
who can’t speak, perhaps?”
said good God.


“No, no, “
I said
and prayed and prayed.



2
“Shall I,” offered God,
“remove all suffering
from the world?”


“No,” I said.
“The world’s already used to it.”
And I prayed and prayed.


“Look, you must tell me
what you want,”
said God, now appearing a little irritated.

“Oh well, if you insist,”
I said.
“I want your job.”

And God disappeared
as fast as speedy Gonzales.