1
Psst! Nasrudin! Pssst!
says the neighbor
at the doorway;
Nasrudin looks down from his roof
where he's fixing some tiles
and sees his neighbor in the street

Yes? Nasrudin asks

Come down, Nasrudin;
I have something to say
that cannot be said aloud;
you must stand at the same level
to hear what I have to say

2
And so Nasrudin comes down
the ladder
and asks his neighbor what the matter is;
and the neighbor whispers:
Nasrudin - lend me a 1000 dollars;
I need it straight away...

Come up, says Nasrudin
with no hesitation,
and he climbs
back up to the roof
and the neighbor follows

3
Now here is something,
whispers Nasrudin
(once they are both seated on the roof)
*that I could not say below in the street
but that can be said
when we are at the same height:
No; now you can go

1
whether the weather has changed
or whether the weather is just the same
whether you are a weather skeptic
or a weather septic, or doomsday climatologist –
horribly or incorrigibly either way –
the weather has its field day, and ocean day
either way, trumping all our noses
whatever our beliefs
each day

2
Just a matter of routine
the other day,
all in a day’s work -
roar and boom! went the earthquake
over the city, and everything was rubble –
well, what could be worse than that?
swoosh and **** next it sounded
we had a tsunami coming over –
"Hey, we’re just being helpful," said the deluge
"We’re just washing everything away"

Just a matter of routine the other day
all in a day’s work
Said the hurricane to the coconut trees
along glossy Eden’s shores:
"Hold on to your nuts, you tall fellas -
this is no ordinary ******* you’re gonna get!"
And far out at sea
where Noah might have gone
where ocean meets ocean,
one ocean waved to the other
and beat his chest:
"Did you sea what I just did?"
And irriatted with the silence
it said: “I’m sure you did, beach!"

Just a matter of routine the other day
all in a day’s work

Ah, the saints and the holy men
and the followers and the Holy Books
Ah, the wise men and those with deep insight
and those who are able to penetrate inner wisdom
(such wisdom as beyond the ken of the masses,
of the ordinary human)
they have declared the Eternal Truth
to the question:
What is better than Eternal Bliss?
Nothing

But O most Wise Seers and Prophets:
Verily, a little pizza is better than nothing -
therefore Pizza is better than Eternal Bliss.


You want a bite?

run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly

there’s rain and hail
and the wind blows wild;
what are you doing
flitting idly by?

run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly

duck for cover
excuse the expression;
hide under a tree
or go sleep under the leaves;
have you no sense
of impeding danger?

Oh run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly

the wind blows hard
and you’re being blown around;
what happens if
a tiny hail stone
swings a hole in a wing?
or worse,
oh fragile beauty,
I don’t want to be here to see
a hail stone the size of a child’s fist
land smack on your gentle head

so run home
run home
you silly
playful butterfly;
run run run
fly fly fly

I wander now
in the wilderness, in the woods
on deserted paths between villages
greeted by strangers
welcomed by humble folk
but welcomed at no Lord’s castle
rejected by Masters and Authorities
shunned by those in Position, in Step
ostracised and kept in the distance by Establishment

the lonely all-embracing tree
offers me shade
the narrow cave
accepts me in the night
a kind wife and her man
offer me part of the meal
they have prepared for their children

the Order harries me on
I have to keep moving
And nothing in my past
condemns me in the present
nor does it save me

All that I’ve learned
is become my burden
All that I’ve loved
I’ve grown to hate
Of my own life
I’ve made my straitjacket
and in my footsteps you read
The Sutra of the Outsider

all those hearts
that'd like a part
in a play Time made
called Dali’s Wasteland
there’s good news:
the part is yours;
no auditions
no lines to remember
cos they’ll all come naturally

all you have to do
is to go about
your daily chores
just the way you are
lie through your teeth
like you always do
smile like a fox
like you learned to do
and just cut to size
all the innocent and defenseless
with your sharp words and mean manners
like you usually do
and the good news is
I’ll tell you this
the part is already yours
for you are it
Time’s very public masterpiece:
Dali’s Wasteland

Look, we prosecutors in Law Town
we are so well-practiced
that if we set our minds to it
we can even put on trial a turkey sandwich

In fact
just last week we managed
to get a banana convicted of ******;
sure, the conviction was overturned later on appeal -
but hey, the point is, we can skin anybody

Nasrudin is in his early twenties
and he works at the warehouse

See, each worker
lifts 3 sacks a time  
and puts them on a pile
and walks back for more

but see Nasrudin
how he works -
he carries just 1 bag
and puts it on a pile
and walks back for 1 more

Now, says the foreman
Why is it you only carry 1 sack
When others carry 3 at a time?

Sir, says Nasrudin
*I carry 1 bag a time
and make 3 trips in all
But the others
unlike me
are just
too lazy to make 3 trips

1
Tommy’s little, sure, but he’s
getting to that age
when he understands a little more
picking up things as his parents
take him shopping;
and hearing and seeing things
at home, in the backyard
and in the streets

2
but today poor Tommy
is caught in class
he’s about to explode
and he’s controlled it the last hour

“Please, miss,” he has the *****
to say it after all
“I need go ****!”

“You’re not going,”
says the pedantic Miss,
“until you use in a complete sentence
the proper English word
for your urge:
URINATE”

Poor Tommy –
he’s got the *****, but does
he have the brains?

Tommy thinks hard for a while -
one hand on his head
one hand on his pants
and then he blurts out:
*“YOU ARE AN EIGHT
and Mrs Smith next door
who sunbathes naked in her courtyard
LOOKS LIKE A TEN. Now, can I go?”

come beasts
fat and well-bred
and positively yummy,
get in line and on the truck;
and here speedily at the abattoir
or your head on the chopping block
we in our infinite human kindness
we shall read you your animal rights:
You may stress out
on the conveyor belt;
and you may bleat or snort
according to your nature;
you may shake and struggle
and you may do
a final dance of trembling limbs before the slaughter;
and most important,
you have the right to remain silent…

my wife’s always late
so I wailed: “Hurry up, dear
or it'll be light...
You know, the early ghost
catches the faint-hearted”

“Hang on,” she howled
(I’d died on the rope, you see)
“just my finishing touches
with my mas-scare
and a bit more of my scare spray”
and then she floated out
into the dying room
(we don’t have living rooms, you understand)
looking just *boo-tiful

well, Eve was sitting calmly
eating a few leaves off a basket
(spinach, for example, has plenty of iron)
and Adam was alarmed
(Oh, he absolutely adored her!)
and he exclaimed:
*"Eve - you think that's the salad I
promised to make you, don't you?
That's my ***** laundry!"

dearest, O my new, new love -
will you grant me but 2 deviations?
for I will love truly and give everything unto you;
in all ways I’ll be the man you want me to be
but in two - and grant those my only perversions, let them be:
First - allow me to drive all my life;
never take the wheel from me...
you see, my dad never allowed me to drive
and he threw me in the back seat
and never even told me where he’d bring me
and he’d dump me
in my nana’s or in the shopping center
sometime for a week or two
and when I said Could I drive?
He’d say: You? you ****!
You’re only 22!

So now when we settle down and build our own nest
you must really let me drive
like hell
really let me be the driver
and let me drive
never you take the wheel
you can sit like a Queen in the passenger seat
and I’ll drive you wherever you want to
but Oh - promise, promise, never take the wheel from me...

And the 2nd deviation, before I forget...
I do have the habit
of digging my nose
whenever I’m happy
and so when I’m at the wheel
you can bet your last dollar
I’ll be digging my nose
(the 2 go together)
so you must promise
to let me be
and let me dig my nose as I drive
for nothing makes me happier
so never, never
O please
never ever rap on my knuckles
when I dig my nose
like my mum did with her steel ruler
whenever I put my fingers in my nose

O if you can promise me these 2
that you’ll allow these 2 perversions
to be the normal rule in our love -
Oh, then I’ll be the happiest man ever...
Now excuse me, while I dig my nose...

1
just watched the news
my morning ritual

2
today’s news, as  I saw it
(today and this week)
as I heard them all interviewees
them politicians, men of God,
holy ones and pure ones
organizers and statesmen and entertainers
and various personalities,
they all used sincerity terms:
“….to be honest,” one said…”to be frank…,” said another
And yet another: “I’ll be frank with you….”
“Well, frankly speaking,” declared one eminent person…

You wish the interviewer
would interrupt and say:
“You mean you haven’t been honest till now?”

3
and yet, frankly speaking,
that’s not news;
that’s old wearied news
for I’ve heard that from 1960’s
since I started watching interviewees,
to be honest

there’s that flower
the ancient rock by the street
we come of a village
a sinuous path
that leads to the next
but our village has no name
it is not of specifics
there is no history here
no identity to cling to
and no exotica to marvel over
it’s all the same to us
your village or ours
and we welcome with palms open;
there’s no dogma or Heavy Books
on our tables
we start with no musings
and we shape no theology
and grand ideas
all that we have is clarity
that blooms and withers, only to bloom again
no  affiliations, no special-ness
and it is the clouds
and the earth we read
in our village
in our homes
that go by no name or labels
and no exotica to marvel over
it’s all the same to us
your village or ours
and there’s that flower

we are here
rowing in gently near to the shore
and even now you can see
the peaks, mountains and the valleys
and the giant pines and willow
and the embracing peace, the pervasive quiet...
you see a lone figure there, enjoying a walk;
there is a little village there of huts
whose humble folk will serve you in all ways
though you will never meet them...
the guardians in the longhouse
there past the peaks
will see to all your needs
and you shall not want anything in creature comforts...
you shall be on land shortly and you will be escorted to the longhouse
and the guardians there will see to your walks
and to ensure the villagers do not meet you...
the guardians will speak of these things
and arrange these things...
yes, I know of that matter...and I can speak of it...
they will provide you with paper and ink and brushes...
but all you produce will be stored in the library there in the longhouse...
you may peruse, but you may not bring the works away...
even your works...all you create is no longer yours...
I hear you are not to leave the longhouse compounds unattended...
the guardians will speak to you of these matters...
there will be solitude
there will be respect
they will look to your every need
but as you know
none of your kind brought here
ever returns...
so then I wish you days of gentleness
and peace and quiet to your last days here...
we are come very near
and between the rocks there we shall stop and you shall disembark...

Sir, most honorable one…
It is not in fear or disgust
or in disappointment or revulsion
no, Sir, it is not of such causes that I have
sought the solitude of these hills and rocks and trees
and the lake that whispers ever, even as I lie down to sleep;
but O most revered passer-by -
in the hustle and bustle of our lives in the capital
and in our cities, even there I found an embracing silence
that I could not ignore;
and I saw the shallowness of activity
and I saw the ambition of superficiality;
and let it be what word philosophy or ritual or religion
may call it, whatever labels Organized Thought revels in -
that Silence I found nameless and formless -
and even in the midst of activity
I found inactivity
But Sir, as you ask,
the Impatient saw Rebuke in my Silence
the Virtuous found their Guilt in my Quiet
the Enlightened glimpsed their Darkness in my Stillness
And so it came to be that natural outcome,
society receded from me
Most Honorable Sir, it was not I that left it…
And ah, here you find me now,
insignificant, part of the whole, still, and as content
as the dust that you might find on a blade of grass
amidst the natural wideness that is here…

So this New Boy just graduated
from The Top University and Full Honors
and all that jazz and the Right Degrees
(none of the arts and philosophy and poetry
and all that crap)
walks into Supreme Office
for his interview
and the HR and PR and Admin and the CEO
and the SR and the RR and DDR and the RRRR
(don’t ask me what they are – they just are  rrrrrr)
and so the CEO asks our Golden Child Prodigy:
“You got all the top degrees and qualifications
You’re the brightest mind just out of University –
what’d do you expect for pay here at Supreme Office
if you make it to a chair and table?”

“A pay that will put $100K in my pocket
to take home the first year, and it will be more
each passing year”

“What about,” says the CEO, with that cold smile
that matches the Golden Boy’s enamel smile
“if I said we offer you above that
and a month’s paid leave, a secretary
and a room all to yourself and chauffer-driven car
even in the weekends
and all medical, insurance
dental and tropical vacations all paid for?
What’d do you say?”

“You’re kidding, right?” says Bright Kid Business Mozart
with that rising-star lean and sneer


“Of course I am,” says the CEO
*“But don’t blame me for the joke – you started it…”

This ghost was thinking:
do I exist in my own world
or do I only exist
in the human world?
if humans do not see me
do I exist,
or do I exist only
as they experience me?

And it thought so hard
it went up in a cloud of smoke -
****! - just like that
and ceased to be, from that moment

*Poor ghost,  it never found out the answer
And a human died and became a ghost
to take its place
and so it goes

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

1
The child that said what he saw
at the end of the street:
“But mommy,
the Emperor  ’s bare as
Little Tommy the day he was born!” -
that child,
I’ve always wondered,
always what happened
to that child

Just recently
in my journeys
I saw
The Annals of the State (check Wikileaks)
show what happened to the boy and all


2
Straight on from the streets
the boy was sent
to the Truth Ideology School
where he spent years polishing
the Fat Butts of the Royal Horses -
but still saying what he saw
(for it seems this is a Disease of the Brain,
a condition known plain as:
Speaking the Truth);
and so he was delivered then the State Cure:
and now, it seems, he lives in Cell131313
(serves him right for catching the disease;
sure, the sins of the fathers are visited on the kids)
teeth rotten and knees falling
the little boy who spoke the Truth -
now unknown, hidden and obscure

And his Ma was sent to
Patriot Mother’s Re-Education Program Institute
where even centuries after
she’s yet to complete her first year;
And his Dad to Desert-You-Never-Come-Back-From
and little Tommy was sent to
Grab-Them-Young School

And every school child
in The Emperor’s Domains is taught
The Upright Moral of the Story:
Don’t tell Lies –
For the Truth is the Lie


3
Remember then, for your own good,
O ye children
of all nations and clime:
*It was the tailors
the smooth-talkers
the unjust, the wrong-doers
the charlatans -
It’s them that got away

I’ve been foraging lately for a simile
to show how Supreme Office is -
what it means to be here
just as any other office in the corporate world

Well, I’ve got it now, I think -
ever seen a tree of monkeys?
There are chattering monkeys
everywhere
at every level
every branch
above and below -
well, Supreme Office is just like that:
*the monkeys above see
ingratiating, smiling monkeys below;
and the monkeys below see nothing
but ******* above

…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…

1
Susan visits May
and May gasps,
looking out the window:
Hey! Oh no –  that’s my husband
walking here with my lover!

Oh my God, exclaims Susan
that’s exactly what I’m thinking!



2
Little Tommy is outside
crying in the street
and Old Margie walks by
and she says to the crying boy:
Hey, why the tears?
And little Tommy says:
My parents are inside the house
and they are fighting.

Old Margie scratches her head
looks close
and asks: Who’s your Dad?

Oh, says Little Tommy,
*that’s what they are fighting about

I caught the art thief -
he was a mastermind really
for he got such precious paintings
out of the Louvre easily
The amazing thing was
I caught him just minutes
from the museum;
his Econoline van
- would you believe it? –  ran out of fuel

Sure I asked him how
he could make such a mistake
steal so much treasure
and run out of gas just meters away

And he sighed with a Picasso face:
*"Oh ****, Monsieur!
I’d no Monet
to buy Degas to make
the Van Gogh…”

whether it be day or night
when I am awake
I listen to the silence
and the whispers of the surrounds
to the snarls, the roars and the rage
to the creatures that are about, that may venture
I am attentive to the flowing streams
that laugh with the rocks
and to the mountains in their pensive mood
and the sounds of the house and its wood
and the growing elm, that are rich and green always
and I am witness to the sun,
and the moon and its companion stars
and the day and night
and all shades and transitions
and all presence in the air
and I am witness to the creatures that come close, curious
and so to all quiet, to all activity and all life and movement
to all color and all seasons and all urgings and motion
and when it bids me sing of these
then in that consent, in that concord
I write down these words
I write these books of the surrounds
of these moments
that shall come into your hands
that you too may see, for yourself

See, Nasrudin sits eating
dates…
Oh, but do you see?
Nasrudin eats the seeds too…

O Nasrudin, Nasrudin
why do you eat the seeds as
you eat the dates?

O, says Nasrudin,
*because the merchant who sold me the dates
also charged me for the seeds

below are notes from various people (all imagined) to Karma...

NOTE 1
Dear Karma
You're doing a great job -
people are in deep **** as they deserve
But what I don't understand is -
why me too?

NOTE 2
Dear Karma
I've got a hit list
of people
you've missed

NOTE 3
Dear Karma
I can see so many ambitious
becoming downright failures
as they justly deserve to be -
but how come
I'm still at the bottom of the ladder?


NOTE 4
Dear Karma
Life's not fair  -
I punched the guy next door
straight on his tummy
and he broke my arms and legs


NOTE 5
Dear Karma
You're somewhat erratic
I invited the beggars into my house
and they stole everything
Is that how it's supposed to work?
I don't see my reward in this;
I don't even get to be famous like Mother Teresa

NOTE 6
Dear Karma
All the baddies
are doing well
but why does a good guy
like me fare so bad?


NOTE 7
Dear Karma
You can do no wrong
as you're keeping things exactly
as they should be -
I'm doing superb;
everybody else is ******* up
That's the way I like it

Let us pull, pull the boat,
young man…
away from the waters
safe on to land
just the while perhaps till the morning
and pull, young one…take a deep breath and pull…
generations have worked and gone past exertion
and into a discovery of inner strength
and a sudden illumination perhaps
of the resilience within…
feel and pull - see, there’s the boat and you
and the forces and the ground
and there’s much within you…
there’s the mark of the effort
in your mind as footprints in the sand
pull, young one…safe to land – a little more
and a little more…
and we are come to completion, and you will see
within yourself
where the struggle, where the living
and all these days of our lives between earth
and the oceans begin and end…

under the birches one may sit
under the trees
perhaps on a rock, a stump
in the quiet
in the solitude
in this light
The Japanese umbrella by one’s side
One in one’s best clothes
here may one sit
in one’s time
as if all of life has been a journey
to this single point, to this one place
One on one’s own, having come into the world so
and all relationships and realities coming to this
in the midst of this, one may sit
with the light, and colors and with the earth
and the sky and the water
as if finding one’s place in this life, on this radiant earth
amidst the breathing trees and the creeping moss and lichen
one may come to one’s poise and silence
a moment beyond thought and emotion
one coming into one’s own
a transcending of pain and disquiet
a coming into peace, into stillness and seeing it all
all things, all movement, seeing all as it is

she brought light
into the room
life came in
as she walked in

hearts were merry
when she spoke
everyone’s eyes
glimmered with hope

that was when
she was about
those were the days
when she was with us

people spoke
of the next day
in her presence;
people had bounce and cheer

I too saw
the radiance about
I too sensed the
life that stirred

that was when
she was about
those were the days
when she was with us

Now she is absent
we wonder where she’s gone
no one dares speak of her
nor of the good times

memory is oft our tomb
reminiscence our solace -
for what can we contemplate,
those weary
and for whom the future is death?

Say "Hello"
to the Full Stop
before it shuts you down

Say "Hello"
to
the American period
the definitive full stop that says: "That’s it, folks!"
in other words
it says: "Enough!" "That’s it!"
" I’m done!" " I’m finished!"
But some people never get that, do they?
they just keep going on;
but now I’ll take my cue
and say no more.
FULL STOP.
PERIOD.

Sohni’s heart pines
for Mahinwal
for she loves
him beyond all things earthly
By day she paints flowers
on the pots her father makes
O Sohni’s heart is always filled with love
And by night
she swims across
with a *** to help her float
and she goes each night thus
to meet her forbidden love

O Mahinwal’s heart
that herder of cattle
his heart too is filled with love
and he has given up his name
and his land
for he is no longer Izzat Baig of Buhkara
but he is simple Mahinwal –
Sohni’s Mahinwal
O so full of love is he
day and night
for the beautiful Sohni

and how will this end?
O river that nurtures us – tell us…
O how will this forbidden love end? –
O fish and cattle and deer
and creatures of the river bank –
tell us, how this love will end…

I waited
sweetheart
and I have waited
but you have not come
I waited early
and I waited past
through the retreating light
and the late hours of the night
but you did not come
O I have waited
all eternity
but you are not
to be seen

I have searched after
at all the places
we met and where we picked flowers
and I searched past the hills where
we lay and dreamed of lives
and exchanged hopes and desires
and I walked in the paths and ways
and in the shade below the trees
but nowhere
sweetheart
you are nowhere to be seen
O I have waited
all eternity
but you are
still not come

though the moon glows
and the sun shines in its time
and the flowers bloom
and all things happen in nature's march
you, sweetheart,
you are not to be seen
you do not come

...the scholar in this poem's companion painting has such an unhappy expression that this poem turns out humorous almost of its own accord...


****! - there are, I know, intellectuals
there back in the distant court
who want to be exiled here to the mountains
And they’d like to lie down like this
like I’m doing now
amidst the trees, on a rock, watching the river flow
and they’d sure like this solitude and quiet
But ****! Not me! I didn’t choose this!
I was just minding my own business -
what was it - 10 years ago? and we learned men
and we were all walking in the Royal Garden with the King
and we were discussing most cleverly about such lofty matters
and I was just behind the King
when he farted
and I waved off the smell with my right hand before my face
and he turns round just at that moment, and he says:
“What is the matter with you?
Here we are the Esteemed Intellectuals of the Court
in the Royal Garden discoursing of Such Lofty Matters
and you stand behind me with a monkey face and gestures?
Out with you! Here is your choice – you gesturing monkey!
The Butcher will cut off that gesturing hand of yours
or would you rather retire now into the woods like a monkey?”
And so it was, that’s how I was sent here
about a decade ago
now in the secluded woods, far from the city
in these quiet and still mountains
and now I sing in misery to myself:
“O all things are quiet
and at peace here
in the country
There are the trees and the vines
and the birds
and the rocks, and so much time –
O but my life is misery
all undone by a Royal ****!
O ****! O ****! Why me! Why me!”

wagtail sits
on sparse branch
ample space and clear all round
wonders outward
feels within
content in its place
satisfied with its lot;
a worm today
and some seeds in the evening;
a quite and safe spot at dusk
and rest and sleep when it is time

You know women
they go shopping
and they fill the whole trolley
overflowing
they never know when to stop;
they’re such exceptional shoppers

my wife’s no exception
and so I thought
I’d get her on to online shopping
(you know, using man’s intelligence
to beat women’s frivolity)
Will save me time and save us money,
I thought
But just as well, within the hour,
I had to enlighten her
about online shopping protocol:
“When the computer asks you if
you’d like another shopping cart
it’s a subtle message
you should stop”


Oh, why do I always get beaten?

Zushio
my son
where are you now?
Anju
most delicate flower
where do you rest your head?


Zushio
strident and strong
are you still alive
and do you
think of your mother?
O son
do you keep your father’s words
and do you look after your little sister?


Anju my delicate love
where do you blossom now?
Your presence always fills my heart
but you are not where
I may hold you, my lovely child


O Zushio
are you with your sister?
do you still care for her
and does Anju grow to be strong
and  brave?
O Zushio - is Anju within your shadow
or has fate parted even the two of you
as it has parted us all?


Zushio
my son
where are you now?
Anju
most delicate flower
where do you rest your head?

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

Poetry and poverty go together, the saying goes; this poem explores this bleak idea. The narrative is set in an ancient Chinese context.**



Old Man Poet
you’ve grown a rich self
while your body grows weary
and your vision fades;
all your friends
Old Man Poet
have hoarded silver and gold
and all you’ve done
is to sing and grow old

you’ve not accumulated
and you’ve not gathered
though the dust gathers on
your scroll of poems;
your songs are stolen and sung even now
in distant villages
but passed on in new names
Ah, Old Man Poet
you’ve discovered too late
and don’t care though
nobody pays for poetry
and nobody reads such stuff
unless it’s flattery and free;
and though your songs may live
after you die
and they might sing it over your grave
and though villagers may sing it
as they sow and reap
it will all go in the wind
anonymous and unknown
all that when you die, when you die,
Old Man Poet, Old Man Poet -
but now, just days more
when you are frail
who will feed you, who will take care of you,
Old Man Poet, Old Man Poet?



ah, Old Man Poet
your neighbors call you useless;
your friends ask you if you need handouts
and your wife mocks you
and your children pour scorn in your empty bowls
and still you sing your songs
and you sit in marketplace corners
and you sing with your er-hu
and still you sing of sunsets and sunrise
and the rise of empires and the end of loves -
but who will feed you, Old Man Poet?
what will you do when
they put you in a corner when you’re too weak
and there’s no one to wipe the ******* your pants?



Old Man Poet
you’ve grown a rich self
while your body grows weary
and your vision fades;
all your friends
Old Man Poet
have hoarded silver and gold
and all you’ve done
is to sing and grow old

See, do you see?
free cat roams
free cat lives its multiple lives
curly tail and rich fur and shiny eyes
across the Korean landscape of Jeong Seon;
and do you hear?
Free cat purrs:

*“it’s nice, dear Cat God
to be free and open
and I like it I owe you no obedience
unlike those miserable humans;
in your wisdom
you make crickets and large insects appear
and I make them disappear –
you and I are equal partners in the cycle of life,
dear Cat God;
and a rat in the wild
and some water in a secluded pool
and all these fresh air and hidden nests
I like all that, I like it this way
(And I don’t a give a meow or cat-**** for humans
and their elegant cats lying on cushions)
And of course,
when the passion seizes me
in here in the open,
there’s always a ***** cat, ready and wet
and we wail and meow all night
Hey Cat God -
I like it this way, feral in the wild”

this poem
took aim
to be the best poem
in the world;
it had no purpose
but to win the title
and so only got worse
and became verse
and descended into prose
which in turn became toast
and today it languishes
in the pages of cyberspace
lost, floating like a ghost
wandering like a goat
neither here nor there
neither this nor that;
and pundits
who took a while
their noses off their obsessions
put on their expertise
and have now declared this poem
with very grim looks
the worst:
a sort of outcast to live outside of Parnassus,
an untouchable
to serve King Midas

1)
There are three letters
which form strange company -
that's, let me announce them:
C, P and E
(audience claps; C, P and E bow)

2)
Which word
(this may sound a little twisted)
begins and ends with the same one letter of the three -
and yet, impossibly, has only one letter?
That's E - as in an envelope, see?
and it's only got one letter!
...ha,ha...he, he, he...
(audience laughs, E grins)

3)
And now, of these three -
C, P and E -
which holds most water?
(audience, please,  look puzzled)
Why, C - C has the most water, see?
...he, he, he...
(wave of tolerant laughter sweeps over the audience)


4)
And now for the finale
(audience shows signs of impatience;
C, P and E appear nonchalant):
What starts with the letter P
and ends with the letter E
and - wait for this -
has thousands of letters?
da, da, di, da, da, di, dum...hmmm?
well...the....POST OFFICE!
(the audience does not laugh
as most nowadays
don't know what a post office is -
just look at each potbelly;
C, P and E nevertheless take a bow)

-----------------------------------------
(audience heaves sigh of relief
as they leave)

I have no appetite
for pronouncements, platitudes
declarations, meditations and revelations
no patience for wisdom
and cogitations and much worse
regurgitations
no stomach for moanings and
groanings
musings, and working out meanings
much less about how your groin is today
I'd just like to
(like Renoir,  if I may,
just focus and work)
not to be anything,  no attempt
to be
just what is natural and easy
play and laugh
and when it's time
just *yawn and sleep

ah, sweet little children
and their loving parents
all rolling merrily
into the fair
from happy homes
near and far

come, see my toys
my colorful toys
and dolls made
in various countries
for all good little children
of our bright world

there are toy soldiers
and there are ballerinas;
there are ducks
and pigeons
and this little pig goes:
Oink! Oink! Oink!
and this donkey replies:
Hee-haw! Hee-haw!

see this train
with its green lights;
and you’ll all
love this dancing girl
who comes alive
with just three turns
of the silver key

and with a flick of the switch
this joyous fat grandpa
laughs and raises his hands in glee;
and you can -
dearest children
and most generous parents -
make me joyous too
if you just buy a toy
and drop the coins
in my toy bank
just before you

ah, sweet little children
and their loving parents
all rolling merrily
into the fair
from happy homes
near and far

come, see my toys
my colorful toys
and dolls made
in various countries
for all good little children
of our bright world

How long do you reckon
it'll take you to read a book
say, of a thousand pages?

Well, it took the intellectual
six months to read, thinking
and considering every page and idea;
the writer took about five months
taking in the aptness and beauty
of each phrase and word;
the teacher took three months,
the librarian two and so did the reviewer -
*but the student,  the student did it in just one night,
just the night before the final exams...

Tom of Bungles Company places an order
and  Bond of On-the-Ball Company calls back
and he tells Tom:
“Hey, listen…You’ve ordered another two shipments
of the goods? Look, you haven’t paid for the previous 4 orders
and we can’t ship your new order till you pay for the previous four”

“Oh,” says Tom of Bungles Company
quick and snappy
*“Cancel the order then
We really can’t wait that long”

there’s this gum tree
that stands alone
its skin and bark white as bone
and its leaves
quivering in the wind
shimmering
in the sun;
and it’s so pretty
and tall and proud
the blue sky says:
“I'll come stand
guard over you
embrace you
full of blue love”

it grieves me
the major dictionaries
cannot agree
on the longest word
in the English Language

The Oxford English proposes:
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
Merriam­-Webster champions:
electroencephalographically
and others list: floccinaucinihilipilification -
but look, I am no counterrevolutionary
and I'm not attempting any deinstitutionalisation
but really the longest word in the English Language
(and let's settle this once and for all, amicably) is:
SMILE
Why?
because there's a mile between S and E...
You see? Easy!
Makes you wonder if
the editors of major dictionaries
are *visuallyintellectuallyfacialmuscularlychallenged

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