I write mostly
to please myself
but the Academy
of Dr Poets
said:
That’s a gross form
of showy *******

so once in a while
I write to
give you
O most gentle reader
some form of pleasure
so that it brings us
together
into a sort of
respectable ***-elebration
and the esteemed Academy
some form of ******

daddy, daddy,
I can't go to school

why darling,
what's wrong
with you?


I've got a runny nose,
daddy -
can't you see?
and my cheeks are blue
I just think
I've got the flu


but sweetheart,
you look
as fresh as the rose
outside your room;
and darling
your eyes glow
like sparklers in New Year


but daddy, daddy
hear me carefully:
my voice is hoarse;
don't you think
I sound like granny?


oh, OK darling -
you don't have to go to school;
though, today is the day we stop
for pancakes
before school
and we stop for
doughnuts after;
but that's all fine
if you're sick
just stay at home
and you can't have either


but daddy, daddy
I CAN go to school;
see my nose 's fixed itself now
and my voice is again
as clear as the school bell;
and just as you say
my face is as fresh as the rose
outside my room
and my eyes glow
like New Year sparklers:
so what are you waiting for, daddy?
put on your shoes
get your car keys
and let's GO!

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.

Let me not return
this day
you elements
that surround me
you spirits
that hover about and flit in the air
Let me not return home today
without a catch
A man must eat
and he must bring sustenance
to those who rely on him
I have sat here now in my boat
these hours slow and hopeful
in these winter waters
and cold and harsh times and desolation
The land is barren
and the waters unrelenting
I have used every skill and every technique
patience sits by as my desperation resides within
O let me not return empty
this day to those who have hope in their eyes -
we need to eat
that is the stark reality;
there is no mystery in that
every strategy of mine has failed
O spirits that hover in this vast desolation
let me not return
with downcast eyes and empty basket
with nothing to show for my hours and work here
alone in the boat, on this vast wintry lake

*there have been days
when you have rewarded me with your bounty
and I have shared them all
But O why
you good spirits of the air and water -
why do you desert me in my hour of need?

Predictor - services: all types of future events
I have a genius for things that don't happen

I predicted the 1979 economic boom
in the Antarctica - no doubt it didn't happen
I predicted the end of the world
in 1987, and again in 1996
and not to forget 2010
and on various other occasions:
I have a genius for things that don't happen
I foresaw and declared
the skyrocketing rise in US house prices
in 2006 (but the Banks had other plans)

and now, for the record,
I predict with confidence
without batting an eyelid
Obama will be elected again
in 2016 as US President;
and about the same time
they will declare me
the UK's King in waiting

if your life is in a mess
you might want to engage me
to fix it with a prediction or two;
conditions apply,
and fees are upfront
and non-refundable too

Just give me a shout;
*I hear you wherever I am

….concerning my adventures in Hell, as others have spoken of theirs in Heaven, and of the extrapolations thereof…



1
All right, you guys
I mean even neurosurgeons
are telling us now how real is Heaven
They’ve been there and back
so I guess you’d believe me
(just me an irreverent poet)
if I told you there’s Hell
for I’ve been there and catapulted back:
I mean trust me, guys

2
So in my nights
I was there in Hell
and the Red Master said:
“You’ve got a choice, buddy
to determine your eternity”
Well I knew straight away I was in Big ****
Should have read my Big Book
when I was on Planet Earth

3
Red Master showed me a room
where the inmates were
up to their necks in ****
and I said:  *“No, I’ll give this the miss”

And so Red Master showed me
the next room where the inmates
were in **** to their noses
and I said, “Pass…let’s move on to the last ”

And sure enough
the third room was comfy –
the inmates were up to their knees in ****
and each enjoying a cup of coffee
And I told the Red Master I could live with this
but then the Red Master screamed at the inmates there:
“ All Right, you pigs! Break Time over!
Back on your heads in your ****!”

4
And it was then I was shot back to Earth
and so whether Heaven or Hell
Neurosurgeon or Poet
you can be certain now
Heaven and Hell exist –
One for the Wise, one for the Fool
It’s your call, buddy -
Big Book or Big ****?

now I, Anton, eldest and wisest,
I, nature-appointed leader by age and time,
I call this our first meeting to order
and each shall stand in silence as I read
out the rules and regulations
of this our BOYS ONLY order of OLD RUSSIA,
which I, as my first act as leader, shall name
the Anton Boys Only Group, the name obviously after myself…
And now, Artem stand still and stand at ease as Vladimir here is…
This pose with legs like a soldier's
and with hands at back, back in palm,
this is the way of the obedient follower
though I fear Artem may have a bit of Napoleon in him…
But Anton Boys Only Group we shall be
and in the streets we are destined to meet…
Now for the rules:
I am the leader and I’m always right;
you are the members of the group,
and you will always follow…
now, girls will not be allowed in this group
and no one is to come with any girls
here except me, with Galina once in a while
as she has recently been winking at me in class,
when I do attend class, that is,
and she has sent me notes
to meet her in the old shed past the fields
and once in a while, as I say,
she might be here on our way to said
location during which time
you will all keep guard
and remain as still as the Kremlin guards
or, as I’ve heard, the guards outside
****** England’s Buckingham palace.
Now, Viktor and Georgy, you are hereby fined five coins
for taking a casual attitude while I speak…
Artem, the tallest here after me,
you will be my bearer and cleaner
like carrying things I might have to carry
and dusting my coat before and after meetings
and for which I shall nominate you successor
should I run away with Galina to America…
We shall, however, always remain faithful to Mother Russia
and send you back information as and when necessary;
and also at each meeting, from hence,
each of you will bear gifts for the leader
(who, let me remind you, is myself)
like an apple, a tomato, eggs and sweets
and chicken pieces and such
as and when possible
but always at least one gift each
at each meeting as payment for the privilege
of my leadership;
and meetings will start promptly and be canceled as I wish;
and Vladimir and Bogdan and Andrey
you shall before each meeting, finish such field tasks
as my mother may have assigned me
and which I may then justly apportion to each one of you…
I do not anticipate any questions at this stage our first meeting
and so I announce this meeting over…
And Artem, you might want to dust the coat on my back…
but kindly do ensure your hands are clean first…

those of the nobility
of such refinement and susceptibility
they revel in sublime love
expressed in sonnets and exquisite epics
But we, the comics,
the mundane, the ordinary, the clown and the fool
we love like coffee desires teeth to stain
like birds love to poo on cars*


1
I love you like the snail
loves its shell
I’d like to creep into you
and always stay inside

2
And I love you back
like the pig loves its sty
and the mud and the filth it rolls in
I love you like the pig in the wild
loves its leaves, roots and fruits in its diet  

3
O I love you always
like itch loves skin
like dust loves the table
like tongue loves to lick the lips

4
And I love you back
like barnacles love bottoms of ships
like underwear clings to the organs
like the dog loves a bite


*And now that this serenade
of such elemental love is done -
do you fancy we could lie down
on the hay in the barn
and have a vigorous and quick one?

I agreed in my youth
to spend
my time
in a monastery
speaking only once
each ten years

Ten years, and my Master
summoned me
and I said: "My bed is hard"


I had spoken
and I was back on my next ten
at the end of which I intoned:
"The food here is horrid"


I was on my next cycle
of ten years
and at the end of the third decade
I declared: "I quit!"


And my revered Master proclaimed:
*"Go, you loser.
All you have done is to whinge."

ah poor moon
you're just hanging around
and through no fault of your own
you attract all these weirdos
these lunatics
and the vampires and the blood-******* bats
and the sleep-walkers and murderers
and the flesh-eaters
(the moon made me do it!)
and the lunatics
and the werewolves
and even stock-pickers
and wild women who want to **** Orpheus

O poor moon
you're just about your own radiant business
and all these freaks put it at your doorstep

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

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

My artist friend
Grisham John
(you'll hear more of him
and see his works soon enough)
has been working on nudes
(I mean artistically,  of course);
and with his co-operative models
he's produced a series of fine nudes
(please, keep a literal mind as you read me)

just the other day
Grisham John decided to have a break
so he told the day's model to dress
and would she make some tea and just talk
he needed to just relax
and they sat in the studio just chatting
but suddenly he heard his wife return
from the shops
and he speed-muttered to his model:
"Quick! Undress before my wife sees us!"

*You know,  artists do see things differently

last night
as I went to bed
I said to the stars
outside my window:
‘My, how bright
and radiant
you are tonight’


and then I
went to sleep
and it must be hours later
when I woke up
with full gentle light
on my face
and the moon now outside
my window said:
‘Hey, I heard you say goodnight
to the stars –
but you left me out, mate’


‘OK, good night,’
I said
and turned over and
went back to sleep


so tonight
I’ll be sure to bid
sweet dreams to both stars
and the moon
but I bet
that silly possum
from somewhere in the park
will roll-tumble-rumble
(just as I’ve gone deep into sleep)
all about on my roof
and wake me up
and peep down
with its head at my windows
and it’ll say:
‘Hey mate, wake up –
I came to say good night’

how did it begin anyway
this love of sound and words and rhythm
and word-painting?
did a bunch of perhaps thirteen men and women
gather one night
under the star-covered trees
and eat pizzas and say:

tonight we'll all not drink sake
or soma
and we'll not have ***
or argue about swines and politics and metaphysics;
we'll not drink wine or breathe in fumes
that make minds gallop like wild boars
but, tonight, we'll drink words instead?

so the Manager called in
a staff member
and he said:
"Tom, take this new guy
round the workplace
and smarten him up"

So Tom took me round
the office and then
we went to see the Secretary
and he said to her:
*"Do check my Department report
My language is perfect -
just  righten up my punctuation"

I think
you’re one hot blonde,
Sun babe;
on this side of the universe
no one’s as hot as you

floating and moving
said the light cloud
to the sun:
I love you, I love you
And said the cruel sun:
Yeah, and who loves you?


dancing and swaying
said the bee to the
lovely flower:
I love you, I love you
And said the cruel flower:
Yeah, and who loves you?


and the moon,
the observer of all hearts,
sang:
*Oh there is love for all
and love for each;
for each is precious indeed;
so don’t mind the cruel hearts -
there is love enough, sweethearts

it’s funny how
Mr Bean isn’t
known for eating beans
and James Bond
has nothing to do with borrowed money
and interest payments;
Stephen Crane didn’t really
have cranes for relatives
nor was he in the building industry;
and hey, John Carpenter
made movies
and not shelves or kitchen cabinets;
and Carol
doesn’t really sing carols
and has the name all year round
and not just during Christmas;
and me, Raj, it’s odd I’m not a king

there’s a rat and there’s a cat
both sitting on the fence
(literally on the fence -
cats and rats don't take up positions on issues)

and a boy happens to pass by;
the rat turns to the cat
but says nothing cause rats don’t talk;
the cat turns to the rat
and eats the rat
cause it’s in its nature to do so

the boy walks past
with no idea what’s happening
cause he’s human
(though they talk and eat a lot,
humans have no idea what’s happening)

I will tell you a story, Most Reverend One
how 300 fairies transported me
to the Mountains of Peach Lands
and how I denied them each my heart -
but ha, ha - I can see, you laugh;
you do not believe me...

but I have more reasonable stories -
for example
of how the Earth was created;
it’s true, O Most Reverend One
there’s such a Being up there
eating chicken dumplings
and poking His nose
in trivial and very grave human affairs...
O he, he, he...you see my tales are but fancy
and do not believe such a Creature can exist...

but am I done, most Reverend One?
Is my list of tales and myth and stories
so limited? - No, I have a list of stories
as long as the tail of the Divine Monkey
that first whipped all stars into position
and with its Monkey hands squeezed each planet into solid mass
O there you are, you laugh and make me happy
you encourage me, O Most Reverend One

I will study your mood
and I can tell you a tale
of how your ancestors
shaped this land
and how they brought that chair you sit on
from the Diamond Palaces of faraway India -
oh, **, **, ** - you didn’t know that?
and generations of your clan have sat there on that chair
and so do  you - and you never knew its story...
I have long lists of stories and tales
all true and collected from lands far and wide -
ah you laugh, Most Reverend One -
and you encourage me...


My story itself will interest you
for I was born of noble family with great wealth
and pomp and estate and attendants
but when my mum died,
she said to me:
Go you forth
and collect the world’s stories
and so I gave away all my possessions
and I travelled all abroad
and have come to my current itinerant state...
See, my life itself is a story -
worthy of our operas and and street theaters
with much comedy and adventures...
ha, ha, ha - O **, **, **
you laugh and you are pleased
which pleases me...

Call then your clan together, O Most Reverend One;
set up a platform
and I will shine like a sun on this platform
and I will tell these tales
in the gentle light of the moon and torches
and I shall spin tales of the moment
for each man and woman
and each child of your most revered clan, O Most Reverend One...
you laugh, and you nod
you are pleased - oh, oh, ha....ha...ha...
that’s good Most Reverend One...

But now, Most Reverend One,
I never start without terms...
*shall we first talk about my accommodation, food, facilities
and payment?

Pious John speaks to God often
and noticing his neighbour
lives easy and has a wealthy life
Pious John whinges:
"You know what I don't understand...
I pray everyday and I speak to you often -
yet Atheist Jack my neighbour
has done well and has a better life...
Why?"

"Simple, John," comes God's reply
*"I prefer it when people
don't bother me much"

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…

Frog 2
Hey, how’s that in the water?
I saw you dive in
and the water spread out a little;
you disappeared a while
and now I see you translucent
but you seem happy
as carefree
as when we were tadpoles;
tell me how it is…


Frog 1
*You silly frog;
all the description
and text I can give you
all words and expositions will not suffice:
just jump in and see for yourself

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

“ I know little of physics...much about mothering...”*  - Victoria, HP
                                                              ­ (this series dedicated to Victoria)



Letters from Mom              Letter 1 of 4: News from home


Dear my Dearest *****


this letter I wrote real slow
letter by letter
in our whole dear English alphabet
to form each word
Slow, slow, slow
like our dripping tap
I wrote slow
cos I know you never
could read fast

Remember Mrs Campbell at school?
She always said you were a slow reader



We’ve moved since you left
cos your clever Dad who reads the papers daily
(he is a fast reader -
I’m mighty proud of him -
he finishes the papers in 3 minutes)
said he read most accidents happen
within thirty miles distance of the home
and so we’ve moved
Now dear, we are safe and accidents can’t happen
since we’re 40 miles away
We're desperately safe




I know you’d want our new address, dear
but really I can’t cos
the family we bought this house from
what they did was to take the number away
cos they said they don’t want to change address
Fair enough, we said
So Dad went back to our old house to get our number
but those new idiots at our old place
they called your Dad crazy and silly –
those rude people!
Those upstarts! These foreigners!
They are ignorant of our ways!
I wonder if they know your Dad is erudite
after all, he reads the Daily everyday


Write to me, or call us, Darl *****
*Your loving Mom

Angulimala chases the monk.
Angulimala collects thumbs
one from each victim;
he will collect a 1000
and this monk’s thumb will be the last


but though he chases the monk
and the monk but walks
the monk seems to elude him;
and so Angulimala shouts:
“Stop, monk!”

and the monk walks still
but his voice comes clear:
“I have stopped.
You stop too, Angulimala.”

“You have not stopped, monk;
you continue walking.
Monks do not lie –
tell me,
how have you stopped?”


“I have stopped thought;
I have stopped all violence
and hate and harm to all creatures;
I have stopped all mental-formation –
so do you stop too,
Angulimala.”


And Angulimala stops;
and he is ordained as a monk himself
even there in the wilderness
by the Buddha

how many coins do we have? you count
and I’ll see; call out as you count, tell me
how much exactly; and then how many days
it will take us to…Little Boy with his crutches
can buy a new one, maybe
and a new shawl for mama…
throw it, one coin against the other as you count;
I love to hear the clink of coins…ha, ha –
you know, sometimes
I even lick a coin to see if it’s pure…mama says I’d get sick
if I did that…yeah, certainly not as sweet on the tongue
as the grapes and fruit we sell, but certainly tastes well
to me in my mind
have you another coin in the other palm?
this day a Lord’s servant bought
some grapes in the street corner;
she said it was for her master’s table,
and our grapes were glowing and fresh
much as what her master loves…and she was kind to me…
did you count the other coin? sometimes I wonder, you know,
how many coins we will need till the end of our lives,
like to the time, say, when Old Boko died last autumn –
how many coins will it take to see us to that moment?
Yes, and of course, how many grapes
would we need to sell to collect that amount?

1
And it’s fifty years
since Farmer Joe and Mary married
but Joe forgets;
Joe is always in La La land

Darl, do you know what day it'll  be
come Saturday?
says Mary, who’s still got all her teeth

No, says Joe
who's still got strong hands and feet
No, no, no…I don’t know – wait,
what was your question?


2
It’s our fiftieth, darl
says Mary
Let’s have a feast, invite the kids
and the neighbors
– and let’s **** a pig


O, says Farmer Joe
*I don’t know why
the pig’s got to take the blame
for something we did fifty years ago

I think, Sirs, and most inimitable Ladies
I think I prefer to look at a bull
The sketch of a bull, the head of a bull perhaps
even if but a study by an artist
rather than some fancy prophet in glorious paint
or in grand chapel or some miracle recounted
in paint and colors and with consummate skill
or even God descending – ah, all these do not take my fancy
they smack too much of the Elevated;
there’s too much
of the grandstanding in these
Grand Divine Themes -
but the face of a bull, ah give me a sketch
of the face of a bull
just the bull, all marks of nature in it
and just itself
no symbolism, no conceit, no artifice
no High sounding theology, no revelation
but just animal nature in its ******
being a bull
just animal, its eyes and mouth and horns
just all coming together to form one creature…
a portrait of a bull anytime for me -
Sirs and most inimitable Ladies -
none of the holy ones and the great prophets
and the Mighty and the Divine
and the Grand-Looking:
no bull for me, please;
just the plain head of a bull, as it is…

Tomcat has his breakfast
of Mice Krispies
and reads his mewspapers
when Molly comes out with a snarl
in her purr-ple pajamas

she claws him all over
there’s such a caterwauling
and Tomcat emerges bewildered:
What? Why?

She’s upset that all night
her hubby Tomcat
called out for Cat Woman in his sleep
And what do I do with Tomcat
after this Claw Enforcement? thinks Molly
*Oh, just hiss and make up

1
well, there's this turkey
in the bush and it sees a tree
and there is seized with a great desire
to reach the topmost of the branches;
but no matter how it tries
it can only land on the first branch

"Try a little of my droppings, "
says the bull below the tree
"My droppings are packed
with vitamins and lots of energy"

2
"Thank you, Mr Bull, "
says the turkey
and eats some of the droppings
and straight feels the energy
and flies up to the first branch
and it goes to the next
and higher on to the next branch
And on and on
with so much zest and power
till at last the turkey reaches
its desired goal - right to the top


3
And from afar in the field
the farmer sees the turkey
and he shoots it down with his gun
"Will be good for dinner this day! "
he says



And the moral of the story in Aesop style:
******* might get you far and high
but someone will smell it sooner or later

If I were the king
endowed with a sting
I wouldn’t be writing this poem
I ‘d just summon you to court
and when you are on your knees proper
I’d just get you to sing
a song, a poem
that goes:
ding-a-ling-ling
bling-a-ling-a-ling
ding-don g-a-ding-ding

and I’d silence you and pronounce aloud
be telling you then
none in the land writes well at all
and I’ll take your own horrid song from you
and I’ll be telling you:
“Listen to my song
Listen to my poem”
And I’d recite your very own lines to you
And I’d ask you: “What do you think? ”
And of course you’d say,
trembling:
“No one in the land
Sire
in all the wide world -
no one writes like you, Sire”

But that’s if I were King
which I am not
And so I’ll have to sing
and write my own poems
(except when I’m plagiarising)
And you’ll be here nice and honest
just laughing and rolling
as I sing:
*ding-a-ling-ling
bling-a-ling-a-ling
ding-don g-a-ding-ding

nobody likes me;
I've known that since long time back
and used to be that I was wounded and worried
could not sleep the nights
could not eat meals complete
cos I knew always
nobody likes me, poor me
and nobody clicks on 'like'
on my page;
and Oh - I got thin and gaunt
and then it was I decided:
OK - hell - I don't like anybody
and we're equal - there, we're done!
Go jump in the well all of you
cos I know you don't like me
and I don't like you
(you like you, I like me)
and I suppose you'd tell me jump too
All right - I'll do -
just don't jump into my well
so find yourself one for yourself
since I don't like you
and you don't like me
it'll be unbearable
sharing the same well

You see it?
No?
space...space...space...space...
Now?
No?
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No?
Well, it's a ghost poem
it's no wonder you don't see it....
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Now?
No? go try your local medium or something....
Now?
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1
the Emir has it in his head he is a poet
and the Emir invites Nasrudin
to an assembly
and the Emir recites his poem
with much ado,
with much loudness and gestures

everyone applauds the Emir
for his poem
but Nasrudin is quiet
and the Emir turns to Nasrudin and says:
“So, Nasrudin – what do you think
of my poem?”

“Sir,” says Nasrudin
“What you recited is not a poem
and neither does it make you a poet”

“Guards!”
screams the Emir
“Take this man Nasrudin
and put him in jail!
Three months let him be there!”

2
Three months pass
and Nasrudin is released
and is invited again by the Emir
to another of the Emir’s recitations
and again the Emir recites his poem
with much ado,
with much loudness and gestures

and again everyone applauds the Emir
for his poem
but Nasrudin says nothing and stands up
and walks towards the guards
and the Emir shouts at Nasrudin:
“Nasrudin – where do you think
you are going?”

And says Nasrudin:
“Sir – I’m saving you the trouble;
I’ll send myself to jail…”

1
it is astonishing
in spite of so much progress
in space exploration
the general population
(Yea, ye puny earthlings)
has so little grounding in space facts
(come on - face facts!)

2
which reminds me of the sun
which for years refused to get an education
because it claimed it’d already got
a million degrees;
but humbled by my admonition
the sun now goes to school
to get brighter;
and for reading it’s got plenty of comet books
and all day( there’s no night)
it learns all about its children:
it learns that a tick on the moon
is called a luna-tick;
that the moon is heaviest
when it’s full;
and all these planets exchange songs
they secretly call Nep-tunes;
and that Mars tries to get fresh
with Saturn by saying often:
“Give me a ring sometime!”

And more,
the sun learns about the light year
which is really a year with less calories;
that the cows have a distinguished
space history -
after all, the first animal in space
was the cow that jumped over the moon;
but really, its main aim
was to get all the way to the milky way

3
more of these facts? –
you lazy ostriches,
get off your heavy bottoms
and dig into a wormhole yourself

OK, I’m working at Supreme Office -
right -
and we got this colleague of mine
(yeah, what’s his name? – Luke, right -
optimistic, high-achiever, destined
to the top of the Corporate Ladder)
and he’s observed me
and he nudges me at the coffee-corner:
“Hey, Sam…why don’t you, mate,
do what can be done today
instead of pushing it off till tomorrow?”

And I say:
*“Well, just on the possibility
I might be sacked today
so I don’t have to do what I
position for tomorrow”

see our skies
are wide, immense
and expansive;
and our skies point
to the open, to the all-inclusive
and yet
we cut ourselves off
we confine, we restrict and narrow
and lock ourselves
in manufactured identities, in dogma
in barriers
in differences
and squares, in boxes, in stifling corners

play us a tune
O delightful playful woman;
your pose and your head turned in casual ease
and your shamisen held in theatrical style
all that spontaneity is itself a performance -
but still, play us a tune;
bring down your bachi and pluck at the three strings
and bring us from Japan distant
and Japan past
O bring us the delights of life
that exudes radiant on your face and limbs…
Play your shamisen;
begin, O delightful playful woman

as it's commonly said,
an apple a day
keeps the doctor away…

a song a day
sung or heard
keeps boredom at bay

a poem a day
written or read
fires up the brain cells

an art a day
created or viewed
keeps brain numbness away

a view of trees each day
keeps the mind fresh
and steady

but love
not love of particulars
or specifics
but love of all
love unconditional
keeps the whole being radiant
every minute
every day

ah, happy crow
(uncaring that humans may
not find you very pleasant)
you sit on the branch of that shady tree
and you peck at a bone you've brought yourself
and you are busy, busy, busy eating;
and I, happy too, sit here
at a table, eating my sandwich
and sipping a little water

ah, happy crow busy, busy eating
(uncaring that many humans may
not find you very pleasant)
I know your happiness
and you know mine;
and thus we sit at our spots
eating the bits we find

You can call me Po-dae
if you’re Korean…
hic! – you got every right to mispronounce it if you aren’t;
and the Japanese might call me – hic! –
Hotei…hic! hic!
And of course those ancient Indians
in their radiant romantic way might call me Laxmi
(but then they’re too reverent, those Indians
and you can’t joke about any these days)
but me – hic! hic! – hey call me Po-dae
and yes, the more erudite of you might know
or the Indians out here would have guessed by association –
HIC! HIC!
yep- I’m the good god of fortune, ancient drunkard!
(That guy who wrote “The Richest Man in Babylon”
he asks you to court the Goddess of Fortune –
Silly ******! He doesn’t know Goddesses don’t drink, does he?
Ah, well modern *** Goddesses might smoke and drink,
and all that)  -
but hey, I’m Po-dae - HIC ! HIC! – fill up that cup and invite me in
and I’ll give  five or six tips to fatten your wallets
better than the ones that American God
George S. Clason throws at you
(Pay Yourself  First, and all that miserly pedestrian living)
But fill my cup, dear – and I’ll show you how to fill your wallet –
HIC! HIC! HIC!
Oh **, **, ** yum – where do you get this stuff…?
These modern drinks really drive me crazy, baby!
Hey, hey, hey –
I’m Po-dae
and for watering me, baby
I’ll tell you the dao of fortune:
I come drunk
and I never move straight
and I walk side and side
Oh baby, I’m Po-dae
your miserly elusive fortune!
HIC! HIC! HIC!
Prrrrrrttttt…..!
Sorry about that, guys –
once in a while I also make wind!
Hic! Hic! Hic!

when I was little
my dad and mom
they expected me
to turn out
just like them;
exactly
like dad and mom
and indeed I turned out to be
as my dad and mom

Oh when I went to school
I expected classmates
to be appropriately like me
but they turned out
unexpectedly, unreasonably
like what they’d be
Oh I was shocked
and asked my parents why
the world was so deviant
and, in their received wisdom, they said:
“It’s an imperfect world
out there
What can you expect
from impure persons?”

When I went to work
and met many strangers
I knew straightaway
why they were called strangers
For their ways were indeed strange
and instead of being like me
they each turned out
like they’d be…

Then I got married
and my wife
turned out like what
I’d expected her to be
exactly like me
and we brought up our children
to be like me
But when they grew up
I was shocked to find
they were like strangers
and I asked my wife
if indeed they were my children

And so I thought I’d go on a tour
and I went to England and America
and I went to Russia and China and India
and Down Under
and I crossed from East to West and North to South
and I went to Mexico and in disguise to many nations
and everywhere I was shocked to find
none were like me
And I was reminded of my dad’s words, my mom’s words:
“It’s an imperfect world
out there
What can you expect
from impure persons?”

And so I came home
and found my wife too had changed
and she was no longer like me
and I sat down in my lounge
older, wiser, sadder, well-traveled
and now all-knowing what I always knew :
“It’s an imperfect world
everywhere
What can you expect
from impure persons?”

the goldfish
was in a fish tank
and it turned to the other fish
and the goldfish said:
*"Hey, do you know how
to drive this ****** thing?"

You know kids laugh
at simple things, innocent
and a world before care and
worry
and so let’s laugh awhile here
with the kids

1
What color is a burp?

Hey, it’s burple!


2
What jam can’t you eat?

Hey, you can’t eat traffic jam, can you?



3
OK…the bird laid 100 eggs…
Guess what she said just after?

Hey, she said: Oh boy! – I’m egghausted!


4
Now what do you give
your neighbor’s dog if it keeps barking all night?

Well, give it a Barking Ticket!


5
And a duck goes out to eat
And what does it get after it eats?

Hey – what else? It gets a bill!




And so did you laugh with the kids?
good….
next time on our program
we’ll laugh with
grandma and grandpa;
*bring your own dentures

1
‘My, my,’
said the wolf one day
seeing its long shadow on the ground.
‘How big I am, how powerful I am.
Why, I’ve grown bigger
than any lion or bear.’

And with that
the wolf walked about
with a lot of pride
and arrogance


2
Soon the Wolf met a lion
in the shades below the trees
and the Wolf sauntered very leisurely by

‘My, my,’
said the Lion to the Wolf.
‘You’re looking very calm and confident.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said the Wolf.
‘The reason is clear to see:
since the last time you saw me
I’ve grown bigger and stronger
than the bear, the elephant and even you!’


3
‘Oh, yes,’ said the Lion,
‘indeed you have grown bigger and meatier
and possibly tastier than any!’

And with that the Lion pounced
on the self-confident wolf
and made a meal of its ****
and the wolf was cut down to size
in the mighty Lion’s tummy

goodbye, my sweet angel
you and I now must part;
the sun sets gently
and so it does too in our love


goodbye, my sweet angel
the ocean waves come
to play along the beach
but soon they retreat;
and so too now we go in our love

goodbye, my sweet angel
the gentle breeze comes in the grove
and cools and kisses
the birds and the earth
and soon it is gone;
and likewise,
O gentle love,
we have done
with each other

goodbye, my sweet angel
you see the clouds merge
and play in the sky
and gladly we two have mingled
but now we break like the clouds

goodbye, my sweet love
we’ve seen the merry bird descend
on a fruit tree branch and rest awhile
and feed itself
and then it flies;
ah, so we have been each to the other
and now we find time ordains
it’s the moment to fly


even the stars
that generations use
come to cease one day
and so we too must –
O goodbye my sweet angel,
we too must go like light, like the stars


goodbye, my sweet angel
you and I now must part;
the sun sets gently
and so it does too in our love

The crowd has waited since 5 am
there’s been much talk
about the discounts at 8.30
So there’s the long queue and this man
comes right up to the front
and the outraged crowd punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the impertinent man gets up
and walks again to the front of the queue
and the justifiably angry crowd
punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the determined man gets up
like Rocky
and walks again to the front of the queue
and again the no-nonsense crowd
punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the obstinate man gets up yet again
and he mumbles, like Rocky:
*“If these idiots hit me again, I’ll not open the store for 'em!”

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…

it does not seem to be a complete love
this love that seems to grow on me
that grows over you;
for one day like today it is your smile I remember
as I drive home
and it is that which hovers in my dream;
and the other day was each eyebrow
its shine and the arch and the way each flickered like leaves
a while on the ground;
and what was it the other evening?
they were the gentle hands you placed on the table
in asking a question;
and Saturday
your shoulders followed me home;
it never seems to be a complete love
it never seems to complete itself
and it’s so focused on parts;
O could it not take all of you
all together
in one integrated love
one complete love?
and still it grows like a seedling or lava or pupa
or even a tadpole
this my love for you
this evolving, this growing
(I did not know if I wanted it
but growing, there is no longer one’s will)
and your voice for example,
the way certain words come off your tongue
the dialect and regional difference
and like my name too sounded like no one else can;
and that accidental brush between us too
(and each uttered “Sorry”
and each reached out to steady the other)
and the sensation
was transported through my flesh
and pleasure
and flesh became part of the love too
and so it is never complete;
like a jigsaw puzzle this love
though the parts all fall together I must say
and the picture is clear at the end
like a classic ****** mystery too, just as tense;
and there it seems the love is complete –
and yet it is not complete, for it is still in silence
and impressions and wishes unspoken and unexpressed
that is the genesis and growing of this love
like a soap-opera
that comes in installments and is never complete