This is not a poem but my reflections on one aspect of the creative mind...I thought I'll share it here as we are, as people involved in poetry, part of this creative mind...



1
All of us, to varying degrees, lead the creative life. We are all creative.
Observing ourselves in our creative moment, or on reflection, one notices that the silence of the mind is one of those moments when the creative mind is at work. Or is it still?, you wonder.
It is a beguiling silence. A quizzical stillness. A paradoxical one – for while it appears to be still, the creative mind is working…perhaps working in a very different sort of way, but hey - it’s still work. For after the silence comes that creative idea, that blast of ideas.
Observe it in your mind. See it for yourself.


2
Before the silence in the mind has gone much work. One has the input of all that has begun since one’s birth. Or perhaps even as one was in the womb. All that one has ever done and contemplated.
Then there is, just before the silence, the specifics. The immediate task and the work one has put towards its fulfilment. One has considered deeply the task at hand, the creative question at hand…one has gathered the information, one has fed the mind with all that one knows in relation to the creative issues at hand…One has worked intensely and long on the questions…
Then from somewhere deep within, the mind says: *“I have enough…That will do…Leave me to work it out…”
And that is when the silence begins…

3
Observe it in yourself the next time you are involved in this creative process...no matter how trivial the creative process might appear to you…
The silence is there…it’s as if the mind is exhausted, yet it is not…There does not seem any answer or creative idea or result apparent to you, but you know something is happening in the stillness of the mind…of the creative mind there deep within…

4
And you might even be engaged in routine matters, in things that are totally unrelated to the creative mind or your creative endeavour…You think it’s over…you might even think: “No, I’m not going to have a creative solution here…The sparks are gone…the fire’s dead…”
Just the silence, the stillness of the mind…But just then it happens…That creative mind rolls out towards you in waves…or like a tidal wave…and in its wave, the mind offers you a pearl – that pearl of the creative idea: a poem, a solution, an illumination…

That is the silence that is part of one’s mind…Observe it…It’s there – that creative silence, all part of one’s mind…

I ask you
Most Intelligent Reader,
expecting an answer:
What do a rabbit
and a hawk
have in common?

I expect an answer
from you
Most Intelligent Reader
But I expect it to be wrong
so I shall tell you the answer
to the question:
What do a rabbit
and a hawk
have in common?
The answer:
They both live underground,
except for the hawk

I bet you didn't know the answer,
dear intelligent reader

1
Peter's been in the job
nine months
He's got the hang of it
He's really good;
Customers ask for him
Colleagues rely on him
The boss assigns him tough jobs

Peter's wife says at home:
"My, you've become irreplaceable
Time for a promotion;
and time for my makeover"


2
And so Peter speaks to his Boss
about a promotion
and runs through what he's done
in nine months:
"I've got the hang of it
I'm really good;
Customers ask for me
Colleagues rely on me
You trust me with the tough jobs
I'm irreplaceable"

"Agreed, " says the Boss
"But you are irreplaceable"
…pause…pause…pause…
*"So no one can take your
current position; so
you'll have to stay there,
I'm afraid"

sometimes I wonder
if I haven't really made a blunder
Really I must have been a radiant Being
happy, easy, and just with lust to wander
and float about in space
and flit between multi-dimensions
And then I think I saw the distant fair
and lights
and rides
and a swirl of emotions and passions
and heard the pipes
and in my naivety
I must have thought:
"What's that?
I must go discover…"
And so I know next
there was an explosion
like thunder
And I went through a tunnel
And in order to see this
world-swirl
of passions and emotions
I had to fumble out of another
And then - hey!
now I know
there's not so much grandeur
as before my blunder
And those people they called my parents
they've been quite clever
they've found a way out
and they've crawled out:
they've stolen the thunder;
and leaving me to work out
how to pull things asunder:
" goodbye son;
turn off the lights
on your way out"
And where am I going to find another explosion
and another tunnel
to get me out of this sandy hovel?
Another mother, another father? -
for all things in reverse
Maybe that's what they call
Time and Death
to get me back
away from my earthy warren
And back to my natural state
as a radiant Being
light and easy, happy to wander
and float about in space
and flit between multi-dimensions
And this time
no matter how much I wander
I hope not to gape in wonder
at the lights and swirls
that I might see yonder

I'm having a drink this here
at Space Bar in Pluto
and Martian Pete comes in
and sits beside me
and we talk, and we drink

Full of loyalty
and pride, as a human
(and patriotism included)
I tell the Martian:
"In 1969
We humans put a man on the moon"

"Pish! " says the Martian
"We sent a team
to the Sun
Earth Year 1959"

"Oh, " I say to the Martian
"The Sun would have burned
your team of Martians! "

"Pish! " retorts the Martian
*"You stupid Earthlings!
We sent them to the Sun at night"

jp (a fellow-poet here at HP) and I were speaking of a popular Asian imagery of the Mind as a Monkey...I mentioned that I would write a poem of how this idea is also embodied in a Chinese legend of the Monkey King...And this is the poem that follows...




Sun Wukong, or the Taming of the Monkey Mind


PART 1
The arrogance of Sun Wukong

Monkey you may think of me
but ordinary I am by no means:
timeless and
of primal forces
from a rock I was born
at the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit
I, pure energy, unrestrained
in perpetual motion

Powers? Ha! you mortals are easily impressed
by miracles and powers
aren’t you, you puny lot?

In one turn I can travel a 108 000 li
I can do numerous transformations
I can cloud travel
and my magic staff that I keep
in the size of a sewing needle when not in use
has similar powers;
and with each hair of mine
I can be an infinity of myself -
though I’ll confess
I can’t make a complete change into human
as my tail just won’t go away

So in all, great deeds I’m capable of;
and I wiped my name off the Book of Life and Death
so I am immutable -
so why am I even talking to you weaklings?
Go climb a tree, you imbeciles!
And stay up there! Don’t descend!




PART 2
The taming of Sun Wukong

And Sun Wukong flies up to the Heavenly Kingdom, styles himself “Great Sage, Equal of Heaven” and there creates tremendous Havoc and Chaos…and even the Jade Emperor, the Heavenly Emperor, has his **** kicked…and then it is that Sun Wukong comes face to face with the Buddha…*


And Sun Wukong screams at the Buddha:
“I’ll kick and I’ll blow  
And you won’t know where you’ll go”

And the Buddha says:
“And who are you?”

And Sun Wukong says:
“You probably haven’t heard of evolution
but I’m the one who went straight to the top –
I can travel anywhere quick and swift
to any part of the immense void or universe”

And the Buddha says:
“Try then and show me
you travel the universe
and back here before me”


And Sun Wukong jumps into thin air
and off he goes into deep space
and emptiness and void
but no matter how far he goes
it seems endless
and it tires Sun Wukong
and then seeing what
he thinks are the 5 pillars
at the end of the universe
he scrawls on the surface:
“Sun Wukong was here!”
And in an instant Sun Wukong is there again
right before the Buddha

And says Sun Wukong:
“See I have travelled to the
end and saw the 5 pillars
and scrawled there my name”

And the Buddha says,
holding up his right palm:
“See, all you have done
is to travel across my palm”

And Sun Wukong sees the words
he had written just before but now miniscule
And the Buddha puts a coronet round
Sun Wukong’s temple
that helps calm the Monkey Mind
that helps still the Restless Mind





NOTE: 180 000 li = 54 000 km or 33 554 ml

if I were a frog
first I’d dart my tongue out
and catch a fly

then with the same sticky tongue
I’d catch a human
actually as many as I can
and all the cars and streetlamps
and some mud and puddles of water
to sauce the whole thing
and eat them all whole
in one roll

And then I’d do the same thing
always with my sticky tongue
deracinate the trees, the rocks and mountains
and all living things
(all humans first I’d dispose of)
and all objects and planets and stars and space
and quasars and matter and anti-matter and zero
all stuck on my tongue and all rolled in one
and all these I’ll just swallow
if I were a frog
and I won’t stop till there’s nothing
except me
one gargantuan frog
and then I’ll burp
and then I’ll croak

*and then maybe I’ll burst

1
I don’t like people
who come borrowing books
They sniff the paper and ink on my shelf
and they ask to borrow
as if they’d ever read
anything beyond junkmail
and cut-out coupons;
and as if they’d ever return my books
if I don’t bark, hound and remind them
and re-remind them…

2
There is my friend Sam
who recently took a fancy
to one of my books
on my shelf:
“Make a Billion, Loser”

“Can I borrow that?”
Sam asked
And he looked like a loser
so I said, “Yeah, you can borrow it”
And he took the book off the shelf
and he said, indignant:
“Hey! The first 100 pages are here
But pages 101 to 200 are missing!”

And I said, ******* by this imbecile:
*“Hey, the first 100 is where you read;
the second half is missing
cos that’s where
you go make your money, you loser!
Now go read the book
and then make your Billion!”

I had this dream
and then it became a nightmare
and there was no line between
wakefulness and sleep
and it came to be that
all the books and print
and all discourse
Animal, human, in Nature and Divine
all discourse floated as sentences
And all sentences but a universe
of phrases and clauses
And each became just a word
so a universe of words
separate, individual, discrete
meaning in itself but unconnected
And then all words disappeared
And meaning too
And there were letters
And then just one letter
And none then…that’s all there was…
…or was not…
and there was no line between
wakefulness and sleep…

*there is no line between
wakefulness and sleep…

1
He'd love her
and then the coldness
of marriage took love
away from him
and the coldness turned into suspicion
and then into an obsession:
and she was an inconvenience

he murdered her a Friday
night
suffocated her with her pillows
it was easy;
like Othello did
but she was no Desdemona;
and he heard her whisper with her last breath:
"I'll have your eyes"
he cut her up in manageable parts,
and buried her below the floorboards
in the study

2
It is a year later
and he is at the computer
and far below lies parts of his wife
but now his wife is smiling
she's on screen
smiling like a Greek Goddess
and he sits transfixed
and she says:
"You are Oedipus, darling -
I will have your eyes"
She is smiling
He is willing
Beside the printer are paperclips
He undoes two
She beckons; she smiles
and she whispers
that same deathbed whisper:
"I'll have your eyes"
And he is Oedipus
Just paperclips will do
He gouges one eye out
And he gouges the other too
It is easy


She lies deep below
below the floorboards;
She need whisper no longer
And he is become Oedipus,
eyes gouged,
blind like the Greek Homer

Dog Mumbo
lives alone
since his master disappeared
in the corner house
in Suburb Bumbo

Mumbo stands with
his head at the window
paws on the sills
and when Stranger Whoever's
heart is touched
"O that poor thing,
so so sweet"
and comes in to pat the dog
Dog Mumbo invites
Stranger Whoever
to the master's seat
and closes the door;
and when Dog Mumbo turns round
to Stranger Whoever
it's no longer that poor thing,
so so sweet thing
For it goes straight for the heart

And so it lives alone
and feeds itself
same way its Master fed it

And I believe, you discerning reader,
have a name
so remember it well
and do not fancy yourself ever to be
Stranger Whoever

1 HIS SONG

His song was always:
I see no good
see no kindness
in the world
I see no hope
I see no gentleness
nowhere all round me


2 THE SCENE

and now he lies
bowels dismembered
His intestines
making a nice O
on the floor;
his limbs like sticks
stretched out
pointing towards the only door



3 POLICE VERDICT

*some evil
got him

Lord Quirk lived alone
in his castle
full of stuffed animals
and dried creatures
and humans as such too
And when Salesman New-deals called
"Just the very thing I need, "
said Lord Quirk
and added Salesman New-deals
to his Dried Goods Collection

And now Lord Quirk's descendant
has a signboard outside the castle
that says in characters old but not faded:
*"Won't you come in
to view our collection
and be part of the experience?"

In the old days
when I was a nobody
I needed a mentor
in order to groom me into success
into self-actualisation and to bring
all my dreams into reality
and so I found a mentor
and I learned of him the 3 principles
to success and complete achievement
And yes, since you ask,
I shall pass on to you the 3 principles
that my mentor had learned from someone before

And I hope you in turn
will pass on this secret
of the 3 Principles
to nobodies who might come
knocking at your door


PRINCIPLE 1
Know what you want

PRINCIPLE 2
Never tell them all that you know

1
Tom sits alone in the bar
staring at
his drink before him
The burly stranger comes in
stares at Tom and seizes Tom's glass
and finishes the drink in one gulp
Tom cries
and the stranger says:
'****! Don't cry!
I was joking
I hate to see a man cry
Wipe your tears off
and I'll buy you many drinks'


2
'No, it's not that, stranger, '
says Tim, still crying
*'I've had a ****** bad day
since the start
I went to work
and my boss fired me
And I went home
and my wife was with another man
I went to the park
and I got bitten by a stray dog
I went back to the car park
and just then somebody drove off with my car
And I came here and
at the exact moment I was going to have the drink
in one gulp
and put an end to my life -
you came in and finished my drink,
every drop of the poison
I had emptied into it'

1
Tom sits alone in the bar
staring at
his drink before him
The burly stranger comes in
stares at Tom and seizes Tom's glass
and finishes the drink in one gulp
Tom cries
and the stranger says:
'****! Don't cry!
I was joking
I hate to see a man cry
Wipe your tears off
and I'll buy you many drinks'


2
'No, it's not that, stranger, '
says Tim, still crying
*'I've had a ****** bad day
since the start
I went to work
and my boss fired me
And I went home
and my wife was with another man
I went to the park
and I got bitten by a stray dog
I went back to the car park
and just then somebody drove off with my car
And I came here and
at the exact moment I was going to have the drink
in one gulp
and put an end to my life -
you came in and finished my drink,
every drop of the poison
I had emptied into it'

1
Oh what shall we do
what shall we do
with these drunken men -
like my very own darling
Mike Hammer?

Last night
I picked him up
from outside the pub
where he'd been drinking
with his mates
And in the car
almost near our home
he says: I love you
And I say to him:
Is that you talking
or the beer?
And he says
like lightning:
It's me talking.
I'm talking to my beer.

2

Oh what shall we do
what shall we do
with these drunken men -
like my very own darling
Mike Hammer?
I locked him in the car
doused him with effluent water
let him sleep there
till he turns sober
But it's 11am now and hot
and sober or not,
he's still asleep
in the car
and when I try and wake him up
he's still mumbling about love and beer

Oh what shall we do
what shall we do
with these drunken men -
like my very own darling
Mike Hammer?
Maybe I should dunk him over a hill
car and all
till he turns mature, till he's sober

out goes
software developer
web designer
computer ****
mercahndise managers

vacancies now:
virtchandise manager
cloud transformation officers
outcome aggregator
data evangelist
sensemaking analyst
sales ninja
digital dynamo
happiness advocate
online community facilitator
web funster


*you ready?

1
Snip! Snip!
says the scissors
Ouch! Ouch!
says the paper
Snip! Snip!
says the scissors
Ouch! Ouch!
says the paper

2
Be quiet and still!
says the scissors
It's for your own good

Yeah? says the paper
Have you ever had
anyone cut you up like that?


3
Snip! Snip!
says the scissors
Ouch! Ouch!
says the paper
Snip! Snip!
says the scissors
Ouch! Ouch!
says the paper


4
There, says the scissors
I'm done
Cut you up square and neat
You're a homemade notepad now
ready to be used many times over
than when you were one!

And says the paper:
Oh, you stubborn dumbo!
I'm not for writing -
I'm koi paper
meant for origami!




POSTSCRIPT
Why didn't you tell me?

*I thought you knew
what you were doing
you ****** fool!

I went to work
and I worked hard
and it was humdrum, tedious
and so I wrote a poem
but you know, nobody pays for poems
You can dream
but you can't put bread on the table
so I went to work
and I worked hard
and it was humdrum, tedious
and so I wrote a poem
but you know, nobody pays for poems
You can dream
but you can't put bread on the table
so I went to work…

I'm going home,*
says the bat
at the break of dawn
Going straight
to my hangout!


Yawn...says the cat
...stretch...stretch...stretch...
*Is it morning already?
Let's see -
what's to eat at home...?

SHAKESPEARE'S MARRIAGE

November 1582

William Shagspere,18
of Stratford
marries
Anne Hathwey,26
Of Shottery

and six months later
the timer bell
at the oven rings
and out pops a fine young baby -
lovely Susanna

OK, time for village gossips
to exercise their tongues



SHAKESPEARE'S WILL


William Shackspeare dies 23 April 1616
and as a reasonable father and gent.,
makes his will and his wishes known
bequeaths items and money
and property to those he has known
(as he pleases)
and to Anne Hathaway,
says William Shackspeare in his will:
"I gyve unto my wife
my second best bed with the furniture…"




ANNE HATHAWAY DIES*

Anne Hathwey dies 1623, aged 67

O bodes it well, Will
to marry one older?

Many pleasures there be in such a match;
many are the plays born thereof…

I'm going home
to my lair,*
says the lion
with a sly smile
*Would you,
dear gazelle,
care to
come home with me
for a bite?

I'm going home,
says the bird
flying up in the air

Owww me,*
says the snail
*I'm always home

1
dearest readers online
be forewarned
when you read a poem
there may be irony ahead
and if you don't look out
yes, it can be like you've
run against an iron pole
smack bang against the forehead
(which may not matter if you're Ironhead)
but if you're anything like me
flesh and blood and heart -
Ouch! It can more than hurt!)



2
be forewarned also
when you read a poem
it can be like
driving in a school zone
when the kids are going home -
so watch out:
irony may be walking with persona
and the literal with metaphor
and maybe a figurative pig round the corner
and sarcasm hand in hand
with opposite-of-what's-being-said



3
so do drive alert
eyes open, mind open
when in Poetry Land
O most intelligent reader
for you never know
in the thoroughfare of poetry
who you might
just bump into:
Mr Alternative;
Mr So-in-your-face;
Ms I-Want-to-Talk-About-God-Yet-Again;
Vicar There's-No-******-God;
Mr and Mrs Moralist;
Mr and Mrs Hey-Let's-Have-***-While-at-Poetry
like-they-do-in-the-back-seats­-at-the-movies -
and so on, you know:
It can be like being Alice in Wonderland
with the Mad Hatter
but you got to keep your sanity
for company

yep, stay alert
or you might just crash your Reading




4
An Afterthought

and I know
wise reader
all the above might make me sound
like Mr-know-all
but hey! - modesty's never been
the poet's professional trait
(you must think about that -
cos even the poet devoted entirely
to Subjects Divine and Holy
and of Such Lofty Things
and exuding sweet humility
is ****** arrogant -
cos they do implicitly or explicitly claim
they know what really matters,
while you or I don't)

OK, I can no longer say
I’ve got a receding hairline
and sure everyone can see
the plain fact, the bald fact -
but there are pleasures, you know

I’ve saved heaps on hair gel
and shampoos and conditioners
(enough I think
to fund my retirement)
and I can actually feel the cool air
(no one can call me hot-headed)
and the great thing now
is everyone says with all honesty
I’m **** as Sean Connery
(what they actually think
or say behind my back
is none of my business)

but the best blessing of all
is I never need to look for my comb
(I confess I was always misplacing it)
and so I don’t need to reach for my wife’s comb
and so she lies as still as a cat
and she doesn’t need to roar
like a lioness
first thing in the morning:
Don’t you dare touch my comb!

Ah, the blessings that linger
like so many halos
in eminent baldness

CROW 1

Hey - you've got the vantage point
higher up on the tree
Tell me if you see
any signs of food -
a dead roach, some rats or carcass
with its guts open,
something like that…
or even an open bin or scattered bits,
leftovers…you get the idea…
Just give me a caw
when you see some…



CROW 2**

Oh - don't you ever think
about anything but food?
The higher vantage point here
really has put me into a philosophical mood -
and now I'm meditating over
life and death and meaning
and all you think of is food…

Ok…today I’m talking about my friends…in the pre-cyberspace era and now in 2012…feel free to interrupt and ask questions as they pop up in your heads…


Part 1: pre-cyberspace

1
I love this age
of the internet

but ages ago
(pre-cyberspace)
I was lonely
I had no friends
and my neighbors
gave me ***** looks;
and my classmates
when I gave them scone
they gave me scorn


2
I wrote to prospective penpals
but they never replied -
those *******!
Nothing ever in my mail
in exchange for the thousands I sent!
It was just a ***** scheme
to collect my stamps!
And maybe they’re Buffet-style investors –
thought one day I’ll be famous
so they’ve collected my letters
in my elegant handwriting...


3
by the way
any of you of my age here at this site -
any of you got my unloved, collected penpal letters?
Well you know what?
I never became famous;
I became a poet
and poets never make money -
so what have you got?
My letters you collected
are as worthless as banana peel!
Losers!
You should have bought Coca-Cola shares
like Warren Buffet!
Losers!





Part 2: and then came cyberspace

4
Ah, so woe was me then
with no friends -
then came the internet
And wow! Did I get mail!
Now I’ve got countless mail and mail again –
You’ve got mail!
You’ve got mail!
chirp my computers!
(Yeah – I got so much mail
I need a herd of computers!)
And what did you say?
Spam? Junk mail?
I mean, OK, there’s junk mail and spam, yeah –
Hey! What’s wrong with you guys?
You people have too many questions!
You jelalous?
One thing’s sure never changed in the world -
All you wise guys and spoilsports!

5
Well
and as the tornado of my e-mails implies
the internet has brought me countless friends:
Hey, all those penpals who never replied -
Eat your hearts out, baby! -
Cos yours truly now has
countless numbers of friends
at various sites like *Faceless
Friendless, Lonely Hearts Full of Holes –
to mention just a few

6
And you know what?
I get so many just writing to me - to me,
with requests –
Requests! - see how polite and civilised my friends be?
Well, there’re just so many
I’ve had to turn down quite a few
who’re not, shall we say,
not good-looking enough, unlike me…
You know, it’s important, to be seen in good company
What?
Sure…you want proof? Just a few names
from the infinite list of my friends will suffice, you say?
Yeah, here are some of my friends with such distinguished names:
Gummy bear…Porcupine…Desperado…Mexican Jumping Beans…
Kosovo Sweetheart…Reindeer Pie…China Doll…Ninja Turtles…
And hey – don’t you try steal any of my friends!
Sure some people turn me down –
like that guy what’s-his-name in Syria?
Yeah – him…he said he doesn’t want to be friends;
says he’s too busy fixing his people…
Then I asked
yeah, I asked President Obama – but he said
he has got enough Aussie friends,
in high places, might I add, he said
Oh, but he’s no idea about
the value of my Friends Database!
I asked Vladamir Putin
(since he’s so many friends in Russia)
but he says he’s busy at the moment
caring for the people of his nation…
(No wonder he’s so many friends in his nation
who all turn out in the streets to show him their love.)
But hey? Who needs them anyway -
when I’ve got friends like Rasputin?
Yeah, see – I’ve not only friends in cyberpsace
but from otherspace too,
but that’s another story…

Point being: thanks to cyberspace
at last
I’ve got all the friends I want!
By the way,
did I mention my friend Chubby Pinch My Bottom?

Fuji-san
I'm bored and life's hard:
let me run away
The master makes me work all day
while his sons go to school
and learn writing and numbers;
and his daughters put on pretty dresses
and they play with dolls and flowers -
while all day I wash their clothes
and sweep the courtyard
and collect herbs for the Lady of the House
O Fuji-san -
you have great power
and you watch over all
so let me run away
And I shall run to Edo
And I'll work there
at the tea-houses
and I'll see fine gentlemen
and I'll see pretty ladies
and I'll work and earn and save
And one day I'll be a gentleman myself
So, O Fuji-san
let me run away

Clear my way
Fuji-san
and make it safe
and I shall go to Edo
and I'll be rich one day
and I'll come back here to you Fuji-san
and I'll bring you offerings of dumplings and flowers
So help me, O mighty Fuji-san
Let me run away

DANCING MAN:

My right foot up
and my left hand on my head
Oh this sake
brings me Heavenly fever;
sake purifies my heart
and the gods are pleased
and I dance
like the Shinto spirits of old



MAN with the CUP:

Oh, drink and be merry
be lifted high in the air
by sake and its spirit;
the Toji has done well
a master brewer he;
and dance you well
in this ecstasy
and while your eyes
are towards the gods
I'll steal a sip or two
that shall build into
more than a cup for me:
*O dance in the spirit of sake -
another cup I hold ready
for you, always

1
Recently prolific
Writing reactions…
Yeah, not prolific producing babies
or sowing wild oats
Just this unimaginative, pedestrian activity:
Writing reactions
Still prolific at my age….

2
explicit?
No, no, no - me no explicit…
don’t have the ***** to be that
but everything is implicit
like if I write about some aspect of life
it’s all there:
the routine, ***, violence, and so on
isn’t everything implicit?

3
POETS
New and popular
OK...
how about the
POETS
New and Unpopular?


4
OK, I like this guy or gal,
right?
and so I click on LIKE
and the next time I look at it
it says: LIKED
Hey, I still LIKE her!
Look, I still LIKE him!
And why can’t I click on LIKE on my own page?
What’s the matter, can’t I like myself?
Is that a strange notion –
Don’t you guys and gals like yourselves?

smooth like a breeze
let us move, let us walk
in this snow

Crow and Heron
they might call us;
those who see
my clothes in black
and yours in white
as light as falling snow

let us go
gently together
elegant and ephemeral
under one umbrella
close, warm
my arm on your delicate shoulders
and those who know
they will say:
See, the eternal couple walk
Heron and Crow
Ying and yang
Never appearing never going
But always being

Let us walk
smooth and precious
side by side, while fools think
there are times or moments in our lives;
while the wise know
we are always being –
not within time, not within segments
but Crow and Heron
beyond concept and ideation

the Japanese beauty of Edo
she sat delicate in the garden;
she observed the cheery blossoms:
the beauty
the stillness
the quite
and
the blossoms faded almost days after
and the beauty -
O she too followed the way
of the blossoms;
and here I am ages after
and I long for the beauty
impossible to touch
and who sat in the garden

First and Second years
of marriage:
Man speaks; woman listens

Third and Fourth years
of marriage:
Woman speaks; Man listens

All Years of marriage after:
Man and Woman shout
and all the Neighbours listen

Mike and I were best of friends
and we drank together
and walked home together
And we’d walk along the railway tracks
and Mike
was always the more observant of us two
Yes, I always looked up to him
He’d be first to point out any irregularities
and so he’d say:
“There sure are a lot of steps
along the way”
And I’d concur
and I’d say:
“Yes, Mike…
And the problem is
the ****** handrails
are so low down”

And you know what
Mike is gone
and I still walk back
along the railway tracks
and the ****** idiots in charge of the railway
after all these years
they still put a lot of steps all the way
and worse –
they still put those ****** handrails
so low down…
Some people never learn;
they never change

I shout these things aloud
And I look up to Mike as I say these things
as I walk alone

it’s time now
let’s all do the donkey dance
it’s time now
for intelligence to carry the donkey
that’s the way
each one of you carry a donkey
for the donkey is tired of its burden
and now it’s your turn
a throne for the donkeys
each intelligence must be
so now
carry the donkey
each one of you
and me - of course, me too
and let’s do the donkey dance
left right
left right
hee haw haw hee
and side and round
and turn
hee haw haw hee
come dance all intelligent beings
this is the dance ever since earth’s first been
the dance of the donkeys
borne on our backs
by you, me and every other human being
the ancient dance of the donkeys
left right
left right
hee haw haw hee
and side and round
and turn
hee haw haw hee

I dreamed last night
I was rich and famous
glowing with love
radiant with money;
I don’t know how I hit jackpot
but the riches and love sure hit me

and my lackeys
they gathered round
and after some reverence
and obeisance
(some revived from ancient customs
as befitting a man they deemed
heir to the riches of
China, India and Japan)
they all said:
“Honorable Lord,
what shall we do
with your boundless fame
and your untold wealth? ”

“Give my wealth, ”
I declared, “to the 1%
cos Obama plans to tax them more
And give my fame
to the anonymous 99%
cos they obviously crave for attention
And I myself," I said,
“shall retire into Monastery Zen“

sure, wise guys, it was all but a dream;
and subsequently my wife woke me up
with the wham! of a broom
“Get up! ” she screamed
*“Go forth and get a job -
and stay away from those
lazy Occupy-This-City-and-that-City people! ”

Nero kicks Vespasian

1
Nero plays the lyre
He’s Emperor
so all must admire
but Vespasian goes to sleep
so Nero exiles Vespasian
and poor Vespasian now minds the bees

I am the Emperor
and all must admire
when I sing
or play the lyre
for I’m also a god...




Time kicks Nero*

2
But Nero goes to extremes
Rome burns, Nero kills
and soon events turn against him
and the Senate declares him
Enemy of the State
and Nero kills himself;
and the beekeeper Vespasian
through events played staccato by time
becomes Emperor Vespasian
and begins construction of the Colosseum

And Emperors too die
and I think I’m dying
Hey - help me up
for an Emperor must die on his feet
And hey! you know what?
I think I too am becoming a god!

the snow is in your path and
the bridge is wet with slush
O young beauty
crossing the bridge

take care to cover your head
and walk
with eyes on the ground
with mind on your destination
for I am waiting
and when we are together, closed
I need to feel your warmth
and my palms and fingers shall journey
across the terrain of your white skin

take care and come in safe
to my room, fair beauty
for I have I need of your love
and your delicate frame in my hands

lots of people
and lots and lots
of travelers, wayfarers
and activists and visionaries
and canvassers
and vendors
and realists and romantics
They have all asked for my love
but my constant answer is:
“No, you can’t have my love;
but you can have my money
if I can find any”

it’s the same with family and friends
strangers, neighbors, children
and relatives and enemies
eccentrics and couples
They all ask for my love
but my unwavering answer is:
“No, you can’t have my love;
but you can have my money
if I can find any”

it’s the same with strangers
and politicians and organizations
and great leaders and haloed monks
and Heavenly Saviors
and sports personalities
and charity organizers
They only want my love
but my immutable answer is:
“No, you can’t have my love;
but you can have my money
if I can find any”





The point here is
it is my task to help you see
the world is full of such
good people
They only want love
It’s never money they’re after
They only ask for my love
Never, never for my money
But still, cruel as I am,
my non-negotiable answer is:
*“No, you can’t have my love;
but you can have my money
if I can find any”

Yes, sweet love,
it’s the days of living
of ******* and flights of fancy;
it’s the life when the moment is all there is
with no care for the morrow
and no memory of how we came here

and so sweet woman who is close
hold me by my arm over your shoulder
and hold me by my belt
and you standing nearby, O woman
just as sweet and just lovely
carry my outer garment
(you’ll have your turn with me later
when this woman has had mine)
I am not drunk
as you can see
and I am alive in the moment

and so you see time flows like the waterfall
and life is smooth and copious
and our thoughts are like wine in our blood
pervasive, all-embracing,
one no different from the other:
O there is the beauty of the maple leaves
there is the wonder of the waterfall
and there is your beauty and there is my desire
and so happily let’s allow life to flow so

nothing comes to this point
O sweet beauties
nothing passes from here
and O sweet loves
there is but the pleasure
that we see here now
what we see with all our bodies and mind

I hate you
cos you’re not like me
cos you’re not
the same religion as me
I hate you. I **** you.
cos Hey! what color are you?
What kind of skin color is that!
I hate you
I hate you
cos you have different views
from the ones I have -
Hey! don’t you know I’m right
and you’re wrong?
It’s so obvious and you can't see
- oh, I so hate you!
I hate you. I **** you.

Long ago
your great great grandpa stole sheep
from my great great grandpa
and my grandpa knocked
your grandpa’s teeth out
and your grandma stole eggs from our farms
and so my grandma poisoned your well
and now I’m here and you too
and so I hate you, I hate you, I just oh so hate you
I hate you
cos my leader said so
cos my Holy Book
which is the only True Book in the World
says:
“God is Love.
Love your enemy.
But **** them who don’t agree.”
I hate you
cos you are in the way
in my way
I hate you
cos it’s something I’ve got to do
since you live on the other side of the border
My dad said so and my Great Wise Leader said so

And anyway you eat rice
while I eat wheat
and though we both ****
I wash my ****
and you wipe yours -
Oh we’re just so awfully different!

O I hate you
cos you’re not like me
cos you are not
the same as me
I hate you. I **** you.

O sweet love
I love you forever
and forever
it’s true
and months and days more
all I think of is you

O sweet love
I shall always love you
always and always
O my baby
no one else has such deep love
as the love I have for you
O my darling
such love has never been seen
amongst stars or planets
as I have for you
never in all of history
O sweet love
if I do not have you
I shall **** myself
O sweet love
you are my only true love
O true love
if you do not return my love
I shall never, never breathe
it’s true

O sweet love
I love you forever
and forever
it’s true
and months and days more
all I think of is you

I can spill
well and good
Can you spill?
Let me advise you
you should learn
how to spill -
and to spill well
You see, a lot of people can’t spill
and so we know they are not educated
But if you can spill
like me
so well and so good
and when people read what I write
they know straight away
I’m educated, very well educated
So you see I can spill
and so I’m known all over the world
as educated and polished
and let’s not forget, refined
So can you spill?
If you can’t,
never fear
we are all friends here
I can help you –
I will send you a CD, a DVD and a guide book
and other educational material
(Yes, all written and produced by me –
I told you I’m educated, and polished!)
so you can learn to spill like me
Of course nothing’s for fee –
you must pay me a free
and once I got your money
I will send you all the material
And you can start to spill
just like me!
And all the world
will ask you:
“Oh how did you learn to spill
like this? ”
And you can tell them:
“There’s a learned man Down Under
the famous Raj Arumugam
(Oh, have you never heard?)
and he taught me how to spill
But of course he made me pay a free
for Raj Arumugam as a matter of wise policy
never gives anything for fee
and now you see
I can spill just like Raj Arumugam
both us with much pride and glee
So I can spill. Can you spill?
No? Shame on you! ”

a charming lady
with the most romantic exotic name
sends me a letter
December 2011
online at poemhuntdown.com
once, twice
a note of love

how magical!
she’s enslaved my heart
asking for my reply
via email
and she’ll send me her photo

I quickly resolve
to pen a reply
to put loveless 2011 to rest
and start 2012 with romance
and so I search her page online
and she has comments
on other poets too

But Oh, woe is me!
my love
has approached these others too
with the same message of love:
Osip Mandelstam (1891-1938)
Katharine Mansfield (1888-1923)
Hakim Abu al-Qasim Mansur Firdowsi
(932 A. D. and 941 A. D)


Oh, my love! my love!
do not go unto them
I will email you
and we will love each other
till we both rest in one grave
but you must promise
never to visit the other men;
and as for Katharine Mansfield -
I think
you picked the wrong man

she is not here
she’s gone
stranger in our midst
uncomfortable in our ways
she walked in the quiet below the trees
while we wrangled and plotted
in crowded alleyways
and streets

you do not see her
she’s not here
you won’t find her
at the edge of the lake
where she walked often
she’s not at the park
where she sat in meditation
while we clamored and fought
to bring to reality our dreams and ambitions
and vast unimagined desires, unacknowledged

she is not here
you do not hear her song
you do not see
her gentle face
all you have is your violence
and the harshness of your faces
she saw she was the stranger
and she walked past to move into her own

…in the Dosoton era, there was too much crime…too many wanted to think for themselves…these criminals did not subscribe to the Revealed Doctrine…just too many who wanted to think for themselves…and our prisons and streets and homes were overflowing with these criminals…finally, the Revealed Doctrine Order decided: send these criminals out to space…they want to think for themselves? Let them find out what it is to be on their own, forever…



I’m covered with clear plasma…
…living in a ball…there are tubes
into my mouth and tubes out of my posterior…
I float in this private world;
I can often feel the wobble…
I’m never hungry; I never thirst
or feel the need to attend to any ****** functions…
I think I’ve seen
the 2 suns pass (or is it the other way round?)
3 times…so it may be 3 days…6 days?...or years?
Sometimes I see a planet and its moon…
Never earth….I do not see it here…it is not here…
Where are we? We had 1 sun in our system, didn’t we?
There are 2 here…
Sometimes I see the others…
Like the other time…a day ago? A year ago?
My circle floated past a moon,
and there heading in the opposite direction
was another circle…and it was a woman…
…her flesh like paper and white, naked,
her ******* stretched, another tubed being like me;
and we passed each other…our circles almost touched…
I saw her face: her eyes were dead;
her face was as of sand…I felt for my fingers
tried to wave, tried to smile…
there was nothing, and there was nothing in her too…
she passed; she is the past now…
and I have seen others too – just once…how was it like?
Who was it? – Wordsworth? That poet?
His words come back to me
that I had once found in a neglected tablet
while on earth
and that I memorised:
“I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”
Yes, it was like that:
my bubble passed a planet
and there, right before me, right before
was a whole host of them, each in their bubble…
O I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden bubbles
In each a naked being, man or woman;
Between the moons, between the planets
Bobbling, wobbling, shuddering in space
And that was just a brief while…
And each bubble headed off in a different direction
If there is a direction…
And there is just infinity…
And bobbling, wobbling, shuddering alone in space…

SCHOOL PROJECT: INSTRUCTIONS

^)
SUBJECT AREA: Life cycle
TOPIC: Destruction
Project instructions:
^)
In a group of 5
pick a planet
in the ******* Zone
^^)
Destroy
the planet
and all in it
^^)
Return to school
^^^**# before dismissal


Project report submission
^)
Free Play:
No report
^^)
Result: report your result
in minimalist style



STUDENT GROUP PROJECT REPORT

^^)
SUBJECT AREA: Life cycle
TOPIC: Destruction
Student Report (Minimalist): Destroy Planet

^) We picked planet Earth
^) We used TErWOp Pointer;
burned Planet Earth in seconds;
ashes in URN(^--+^)
collected using DYUarmprong
We had full insight, life-cycle

Shall we tell
dear Dr Bell
he’s actually
fallen into a well
that he’s not exactly
in  hell
he’s really
a frog in the well
but if we do tell
dear Dr Bell
he’s actually
in a well
not in his proclaimed hell
and if he climbs out of this well
it’d be swell
cos he’d be out of the cell
and he wouldn’t smell
but then I’m afraid
dear Dr Well
will come out
of his imagined hell
just in order to sell
his vision of a literal hell
with proclamation
and pronouncement:
“Hear all about it!
I know all about it;
I’ve been to
and back from hell”

So should we tell him
or should we not?
Oh what the hell!
We’ll wish him well
we’ll tell him anyway:
Earth shall always beget fools
and many will fall
each in their own well
and so make life
a living hell
So let’s get Dr Bell
out of the well
for many
a fool awaits his
Divine Vision of Hell

We’re at the shops
and Tim runs off of to the escalator
and Mum shouts to him:
You stop there!
And Tim freezes
like ice got hold of him
And Mum pulls out
the flap over the pram
and helps baby Didi
with the milk bottle
and I scream to Mum:
Let me go;
I want to go to Tim!
But she pulls hard at the rein
and I can feel it tighten
round my waist
a little
And I scream:
Mum! I want to go!
And she says:
Jill -
be quiet and still
as my shadow!
And from the distance
Big Tim screams:
Mom! Can I go?!
And Mom screams loudest:
You come here
and stand right beside
your sis Jill!
And we’re all together again
baby in the pram
Mum standing beside
and me on the rein
And Tim sulking at the side

And nobody else
from the crowd dares
come near
for they all know
my Mum -
she’s Wonder Woman
she’s Super Hero
cos my Mum’s supermom