can anybody see
poetry in paperwork?
(You can?
You work for the Tax Department,
don't you?)
Well, I can't see
beauty or poetry in paperwork
especially that which has accumulated;
but I'd better pretend
to see beauty in the paperwork
or many departments here
will rear an ugly face each at me

so beauty, O Paper Beauty,
no, not you multi-dimensional origami
but piles of paperwork,
here I come...Bury me.

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! ”

I placed an ad
outside my office
offering a job in my small company:
The applicant
must be computer literate
and possess secretarial skills
and must be bilingual
(and proudly, I added)
WE ARE AN
EQUAL OPPORTUNITY EMPLOYER

and this dog came in
and indicated with barks and snout
he wanted the job;
and proved with paws and limbs
and tongue and tail, and with various barks
he had all the skills

Astounded, I put up all sorts of barriers
but the dog could not be stopped by any one
And so I finally said:
“You have demonstrated your skills, sure;
you have barked – but you don’t seem
to know any other popular language…
I can’t offer you the job  -
I need someone bilingual!”

And the dog replied: *“Meow!”

See
Nasrudin is in the streets
he rides his donkey;
and see,
the people are in the streets
and the men and women point to Nasrudin
and they laugh;
and the children run behind Nasrudin's donkey
and they roll in the sand
and they laugh at Donkey;
and the youth
throw some old cups
at Nasrudin's donkey and they laugh

and see
Nasrudin sees all this
and he says to them:
*Yes, you may see the humor;
but I don't think you see the irony

I worked at the Ministry of Transport
those days,
a mere employee in a workforce of
three thousand
barked at and moved about
by bureaucrats and faceless executives
but we the meek had our ways
to assert our power some days

that day the drab announcement
came over the PA system
a speaker above each corner
snapping an order at you:
“Will all personnel
parked at Sector 4
remove your vehicles
to Sector 5 immediately”

And half an hour later
while I was having a smoke
with my friends and they with theirs
came an order from the speakers above:
*“Will all staff who went to remove their cars
return to work without any delay…”

I lie asleep
and you send in
beams of messengers
each with the same warm words:
*‘Hey, lazybones –
wakie! wakie!’

always wanted a part
in a film
so I asked a director if he'd give me a break
and the director told me: "Break a leg"
and I thought he'd meant me to get
experience for a disaster movie
(sort of Stanislavsky's method acting)
so I did

but I never got a part;
the director just laughed and waved me away -
but at least I was in the cast for weeks

OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, pale and alone
like me
O inhabitant in deserted skies
as I in lonely wilds
with my ghost baby;
let us put a charm together
a curse on men who betray their wives
and who put their seeds in young unwise girls
and run away
and hint the naive could **** themselves and their babies
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, pale and alone
listen to my tale:
a charmer
dazzled my mind
and put his seeds in my womb;
and he told me he loved me
but he had other duties
and he said I should be ashamed
for being such a loose woman
and I should **** myself
and so take my baby within me
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, pale and alone
feel the pain and horror in my mind
as I am doomed to deliver this script
night and night in this wilderness
Behold this infant I hold in my hand
this ghost of a baby
that has never seen life
******* at my milk-less white breast
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, pale and alone
come, let us put a charm together
a curse on men who betray their wives
and who put their seeds in unwise girls
and run away
and hint the naive **** themselves and their babies
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….
O moon, lend me your strength and power
let us weave a curse, let us cast it over such he-devils:
May their genitals rot
eaten by vermin;
may their eyes be eaten by giant flies;
and may their evil turn
into sharp-teethed ravenous worms
and stampede inside their bodies
and eat all their internal organs
and may these huge-bellied worms
eat every nerve and eat their brains part by part
O may such men die in pain, in madness
before their very wives
Lend me your power
lend me strength
and curse with me
O moon, pale and alone
like me
inhabitant in deserted skies
as I in lonely wilds
with my ghostly baby
that has never seen life
OOOOhhhh…..eeeeee…..oooeeeeeyoooo….

Well, my deputy had been in the job
a month into it
and the deputy called me on the phone
from the woods nearby, on routine duty:
"Hello sheriff – there’s a body here,
I just noticed, below a tree…he appears dead
What do I do?"

"Well," I answered, with authority
"Before we take things any further,
first, let’s ensure he’s dead -"

And my deputy said:
"Hang on..."
And then my deputy was back on the phone:
*"OK, I just put 3 bullets in him
I’m dead sure he’s dead
What do I do next?"

‘Ah, come in
oh gentle fox,’
said the Lion,
pretending to be sick
and lying visible
and coughing
inside its sunny cave


‘How nice of you,’
continued the lion
‘to come and see me.
You have probably heard
I’ve been quite sick
and what gentle words of healing
you must have come to offer me…
Indeed, oh most kind fox
it’s very nice of you…
But why stand in the sun?
Come in and sit down
with me in my cave
and we shall speak of
most spiritual matters
like Heaven and the afterlife…’


2
‘Ah, but thank you Mr Lion,’
said the fox
keeping a distance.
‘I did indeed hear it said
you were sick and came to visit you
and now that I’ve seen you
and now that you feel my goodwill
I shall go…’


‘But why not come in
just for a while?’
asked the Lion,
with a regal grin


‘Because,’ said the quick fox,
‘I smell a rat and other creatures too.
I see many footprints towards
your cave
but none tracing their steps out…
And it’ll be just the while perhaps
that you’ll need
to ensure what comes in the cave
never goes out.’


And away
the nimble fox ran
to live many years more
and to tell a tale
that has passed on from
the ruthless animal kingdom
to our most blessed humankind

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

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

And Adam
said to God:
Daddy! Daddy!

What now?
sighed God,
quite irritated.

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

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


But why, Daddy?
asked Adam

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

it is written in the Olde Booke of Life
that when the Lion went unto the wild
to have its fill, when first it felt Hunger
the King of Beasts saw two creatures:
a human, under a tree, reading a book;
and a human, under a tree, writing a book
and the Lion ate the reader
for its inner voice told the King of Beasts:
"Eat the reader - for that is digestible;
but partake not of the writer
for it is susceptible to cramps
and worse, may cause a block"

And since then hath the Lion
lived in this wisdom:
*Eat of the reader, never of the writer

If plants can communicate
so can planets

and so two planets started talking
and one said: How are you?

And the other replied:
I've got a medical condition -
the doctors say I've got
a serious case of **** sapiens

And the first one replied:
*Oh, never you worry about that;
I had the same condition
and it didn't last long

1
the teacher says
give me a sentence
anyone, quick
with the word
“beautiful” twice…

Angelic  Mike
sings his response:
My father always says,
“Beautiful day, makes one beautiful too”


2
the teacher applauds
and so does the class
everyone’s heart warms to the core;
and teacher points to Wild Danny
“Give us one, Danny,” she says

3
“Oh,” says Danny Wild,
*“last evening at our dining table
my sis in high school
she said she’s with baby
and she doesn’t know who;
and my daddy he said:
'Beautiful…****** beautiful'"

a poet, it is said,
must be pure and holy;
a poet, it is decreed,
must bring truth and clarity;
a poet, it is declared,
must use words good and sublime;
a poet, it is said
must choose subjects
that are sanctioned and chaste
like the moon and stars
and butterflies and innocent creatures of the fields;
and fill pages with
I-love-you-you-love-me oratory
and volumes of
today I feel this way
yesterday I had five coffees;
further, it is inscribed in
the tombs and mausoleums and
encrypted in arcane ancient texts
and revealed scriptures,
that the poet shall speak
wholly of holy matters and things
and choose for imagery
clouds, angels and music
and such radiant things



well, you can say what you like
you can believe what you fancy –
if I write, I’ll do and speak
just ****** well
as I please…
thank you very much…

The wandering beggar is invited in to rest a while…While the women work, he is given some warm soup and food…After eating, and ready to move on, the beggar thanks his hostess and sings her a song in appreciation of her kindness..*




I wander
day and night
in the woods and hills
and I lay my weary body to rest
in cave or below trees

I eat berries
and fruit and drink water
of the free rivers;
for meat I am content
with what I may scavenge
in the bins after
market hours

Ah, the homeless
are my friends
in the streets and gutters;
and I compete with beasts and bears
for shelter
in the forests and woods

One might say,
I am like a hermit
or recluse
except those are quite free of misery
and choose to go that way
whereas with me
this is my condition

But for all beings
the sun does shine
and chance does
provide sustenance
and time offers kindness
as I found in your heart today,
dearest lady;
and so I take my leave
with a poor man’s blessings
for you, your man and your children


and so, kind soul,
I take my leave now
and where I go next I do not know;
but may Time keep you well
as I wander
day and night
in the woods and hills
and as I put my weary body to rest
in cave or below trees
remembering always
your kindness today

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

I am e and I don’t like p
p really disgusts me
and makes me go eeeeee!
p is a stalker and purposely tries to get close to me -
see what I mean?
I try to keep p at a distance
but I don’t always succeed
look
I want to get a fruit
and I reach for a pear
and see? - P comes to share!
He wants to make a pair with me!
Oh! I just hate p!
Try and get some peace
but that p instantaneously
casts a shadow over my peace,
as you can see...
I can’t even have fun -
I just want a peek - and p insists on being there;
and if I just take a peep - oh p
infuriates me
like barriers in front and at the back
I try an orange
hoping to get rid of p
but as soon as I start to peel -
oh! I hate it! p’s there, do you see?
I don’t mind s, or c or dear old d
but Oh this stalker p
I hate p
with all my life and energy

and even a hates p
for p thinks it’s good company in papa
when a just wants to be alone;
and worse, p is really crude and smells
and s and i think so too
cos p forces them altogether
and makes them ****...
Oh I am e and I hate p
and the ABC Police tell me it’s not within their purview
could I speak with the Numbers Department?
and the Numbers Department says he’s too important
since he’s in pi
O what can me, we do with p?
I just hate p - he just makes me want to puke!
one of these days, I’m just going to double *** on p!

Mom – I’m sorry
Mom and Dad
and Grands and everybody else
but I got to run off
And so by the time you read this
I’ll be gone
because you know
you don’t let me marry him
I really love him
and he really loves me too
But you, everyone of you
you don’t like his color,
the way he is
I know him and I got to be together
forever
And you all just sneer:
Oh, she’s just a teenager!
And you’ll all never accept it
forever
Neither will his group
accept me, forever
So don’t look for us;
we’ll literally fly off to
a corner in this universe
where no one will find us
ever
and we’ll live happily forever
Just the two of us

Just a few words to you all:
*We are all the same, you know
no matter our color and metal and make
no matter the configuration
no matter the model and serial number
and which Factory we came from
We robots are all the same…
You got to learn this and to love
all robots the same

let them see
the way of knowledge themselves
teach them to read and to aspire;
male and female, brother and sister
strangers
the privileged and the children of the streets -
teach them to observe, to speak and to dream
teach them the ways of piercing
beyond the confines

be it each child’s unquestioned right
be it enshrined in the laws and in your statutes
be it inscribed on your City Gates
and in your Hearts and Minds;
let each sit to the sounds of the words and meaning
let each decipher, think and interpret
let each be empowered, guided but not circumscribed
let each explore and discover and capture the voices
and dreams in the very air about them
bring to them the means and the new and the old
regardless of one’s origin and history
each child, male and female
let there not be want and lack of means
let each be fearless
do not hold back any
let none be neglected
and let them be the heirs
to our world -
to freedom,
inquiry and exploration…
let each child live fully the life of the mind

see how many events
we celebrated
and commemorated...
we divide our lives in spaces
like those between markings on a ruler
in mm, cm, and m...
and time so divided
and the year is the most meaningful in our lives
one is nearly gone
and another looms
stares at us with a fireworks yawn
what is time then? -
that we make do with days, weeks, months and years
and that we manage
with birthdays, markers
and observances and events and Special Days
work and holidays
what is this time? ...
that offers us some breathing space
and then eats us whole....
I know, I know
we all have our answers
that we find in our Books, our traditions, our symbols...
ready-made answers Authority teaches us to repeat
and come time
we’ll all die like stray cats run over on the roads
and we won’t even know what hit us...
don’t ask, don’t ask...we won’t ask what time is...
we’ll just mark it
and go wow at fireworks

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…

So is it the same with you?
O, I understand now…
All this life of elegance and ease
and our husbands away constantly
on business…and they remind us of duty
and religion and sanctity and honor…
and it is the same with you…there is sketchy news
of your husband seen in such a city or town
in the north or the south
past the deserts or past the mountains…
a woman in such a place
and another one that accompanies him while you are here…
and it is the same with me…
they have entertainment while they are away
and they have expectations when they come home..
as with you, so with me…
perhaps, perhaps this is the transaction of love
turned into marriage
of relationships turned into convenience
an understanding, an arrangement…
we have our ease, and they have their pleasures…

for maximum efficacy of charm, utter this in the dead of night lying down on a sheet of camel skin soaked in goat’s blood, on top of One Tree Hill*



may those who
cannot praise
and can only bark dispraise
of my writings, songs and posts
may they all
become loose of mind;
and may such
in the middle of a crowd of fanatics
suddenly lose their pants or tops;
and inexplicably become illiterate
when they are to sit for exams;
and may they who cannot
say: “You are the best! You are the best!” -
may these henceforth never be capable
of saying anything at all!


O, as swineherds
in days of yore
became Court Poets
by Divine Grace –
may all those who don’t
appreciate my writings and posts
may they all suffer in reverse
and become swine
and go drown in ditches
by Divine Craze!

1
don't you young
become poets
it may sound romantic and cool
but that's what it is - it sounds
Yeah, it's all about how it sounds

Mom was right:
Better be a dentist -
for though you stare all day into mouths
you'll be agape when you look at your bank accounts
Dad was right:
Better be a surgeon-specialist -
for though you fix areseholes all life-through
your bank account is never a dark hole

And poetry, remember,
they must have told you, doesn't sell;
the Humanities are not for humans;
Writing is for those who can't talk their way up -
so don't aspire to be a poet
dear young ones
for you'll suffer all life
of scarcity of means,
plenty of sneers and want

2
And your husbands will tell you:
I married you cause being a poet
I thought you could moan and oooh and aaah
and make better love than that!
And your wives will scowl:
**** your poetry!
Get me real diamonds and money!

3
So dear young ones
perhaps you want to give up your verse
and turn to medicine or finance
or engineering
and study for dollars instead

*a return on investment
is what you want

I’ve stopped writing
serious verse
cos every time I try
it only gets worse


I’ve stopped writing
on dignified subjects
and such proper themes
for every time I try
I roll down laughing
and the Public Library staff
lead me out by my ears


I’ve stopped pontificating
on divine matters
and such holy subjects
as mentioning God
and Angels, and Heaven and Hell
cos every time I try
we have such propagandists
quoting scriptures
and holding up revelations,
all these drugged believers
abusing reason and religion
after they’ve finished
with the children


and I do not discourse
on noble subjects
and themes befitting heroes
and great nations
for every time I try
the language slips to f-starters
and the idiom of the slums and gutters
and the curses of the homeless



so I sing about
what pleases me
and those who are easy
read if they will
cos they know
it doesn’t matter if they do or don’t ;
for the sun will still shine
the next day
and they’ll find better poems
in each sun ray
that pierces their skin
and wakes them up to life

Ha, ha, humanity, you clowns
why do you repeat things you don’t know?
you create authority, you stop thinking
you lean your elbows on fat books
you fill your young with dogma
and truths you yourself don’t know to be true
but drummed into you
and you have visions of God
and scriptures passed down from antiquity
and for good measure you have updates
and the latest revelations –
and you say,
“Oh no, God just changed His mind -
This is the latest! This is the latest!”
like some street urchins selling tabloids in busy streets;
ah, you have so many articles of faith
and repeated so often you claim it to be sacred
you learn to repeat on your mother’s laps
and the teachers brainwash you
and fill you with assumptions you are taught never to question;
and you hang death threats on people who question
and you become so narrow you only see what you want to see
you only see what you are taught to believe;
Oh, you won’t think
(though you’ll be happy to allow your Masters
to tinker with the Holy Text)
and you won’t let others think…
Ha, ha, humanity, you clowns
why do you repeat things you don’t know?

I have always wondered
- it's been a mystery to me from early -
about all these awesome bright people
but who then turn out not so smart

Well, I thought Science might shed some light
on my dilemma
and after six months' intensive study
I see what it is all about:
*light travels faster than sound
and that is why all these people
who look so bright
don't turn out  so smart
when the words they utter are heard

I slept for twenty years
comfortably below the tree
up in the quiet mountains
and all that time
I lay in a sleep
as deep as before
I came to my mother's womb


and yes, I had dreams
in those two decades of sleep -
but no, I did not dream of angels and heaven
or guiding lights and stars
but simply dreamed
that I shed all forms of thoughts and ideas
like one sheds one's clothes
before one enters a placid lake



and I dreamed often
there were no thought patterns and creed
no dogma and beliefs
and there were no ideas and organized religion;
and there was no form or shape
nor a past or future or time;
no sets of thought to cling to
and therefore no questions or answers:
and I entered so the lake of silence


and having dreamed that
having entered the lake
you will understand why
I do not sit in church or group;
why I do not seek or conform
and why I have no interest
in all these books you wave
and these revelations you espouse;
and simply no interest
in all these things you preach




I slept for twenty years
comfortably below the tree
up in the quiet mountains
and all that time
I lay in a sleep
as deep as before
I came to my mother's womb

you know
to lofty heights
they praise
the spirit and the other cliche, the soul
(something they can’t see)
and they deride the body
(something they can touch, but don’t)

But O sweethearts
you’ll never get into other dimensions
if you don’t know your present
so touch your bodies, sweeties...
never fear, sweethearts
of legit joining of body and body
just enjoy the *** with no guilt
it’s OK to exhaust yourselves
to moan and sigh and lie tired
loving body side by body
and to whisper:
Oh...that’s good, isn’t it?
and to answer:
*Hmmm....We ought to do this again soon, baby...

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! ”

O Nasrudin
asks a man
tell of us ritual
and proper procedures:
Which side should I stand on
when I carry a coffin:
on the right, the left,
in front or at the back?
O Nasrudin,
which is proper?


O, dear friend,
says Nasrudin
it doesn’t matter;
just make sure you’re not
inside the coffin!

Ah, young Sir, most elegant young scion
of a noble family of our Great City -
how well you play even these games
as cards and board games
with such composure, calm and dignity
that we of the lower classes
can never muster
and with what generosity of spirit
young Sir
what dignity and skill
even as you deign to play cards with us,
such ordinary folks, such untutored people like us…
but honest we are, young Sir,
and so in your wisdom and learning you have seen
and so you have chosen to come in our midst
and to play with us…
so you no doubt wish to know the world
so that you may have such wisdom as when one day
you move even deeper in court circles
and in the halls of power
as no doubt by the signs on your face and in your manner
young Sir
you are destined to do so…
ah Sir, how well you consider your moves…
…forgive me for talking, it is my admiration for you
that makes me talk…I shall be quiet the while
as you pause to make your next move…

…ah, Sir – such gravity and poise you have...
and such deep meditation you make
before every card move…
it is a dignity and insight, most noble young Sir
you have no doubt acquired
in the great schools, and from your most learned tutors
no doubt such wisdom as you have acquired
in all your studies
as noble youth like you are privileged to…
not like us poor street urchins
and common people of the street
in our ignorance, in our pettiness…
but still, Sir – we are honest people, you will find
and perhaps one day, young Sir,
you shall speak for us in those halls of power
in which you shall shine –
perhaps then you will speak for us ordinary folks
how though common and plain, yet most honest you found us…
play on, young Sir, play on….consider your moves
and hold your cards close to your *****, indeed…
indeed…indeed…I shall be quiet…so you can
deliberate and apprehend your every move…
but honest ordinary friends of yours we are, young Sir…
always we remain your honest friends
of the taverns and streets…

you know it’s possible
in some reality-branch of Super Science
when you’ve just got out of bed
and then you are in the kitchen
there is still a you
lying in bed
as is another before
you went to bed
and so there is another
in the kitchen
while you are in the car
a you in every
second split into countless fractions
as in picture frames
of the journey you take

you get the drift -
but which you gets the drift?
every you drifting in space

but what of it? you ask
of this possibility
of multiple realities?

Well, it’s when I knew I was *******
that’s when it got scary
cos I knew then
I was caught infinitely
with a boring you
in every nano second:
cos if you’re there, I’m caught too...
every second caught in indivisible slices
all round the teeniest-weeniest section of an infinite string
of a boring you
and poor me - *bored and *******

for centuries
black cats have been
the subject of blame

Is it bad luck
if a black cat follows you?

Here’s the answer
to settle this mystery
once and for all:
*It all depends, if you’re human or mouse

you know I slept
twenty years
and woke to find
all things changed


when I sleep now,
though only a few hours
each night,
I wonder
if it had not been better
if I had slept forever


I had not known
trouble in my long sleep;
and I was not bewildered
by a world
that is strange and distant
though I move in it all day long


I had not known
any care or worry;
nor had I to think where
my next meal was to come from
or hang over things like
what today's contemporaries
fret about:
things like retirement funds
and aged care; and a will
that will be ample and fair


I had not known
people of strange ways
when I slept;
I had not to condone
the conceited and those whose
only concern is self-interest;
and men and women of twisted emotion
and hell-bent on ****** and blood
and lust;
and a lawn that must be trimmed


and in my bear-sleep
I had no encounter
with the fool, the arrogant, the ambitious
and the tyrant and the greedy;
all I knew in my long sleep
was quiet, oblivion and bliss
and so I ask myself often
as I sit in the shade of the tree:
*I wonder
if it had not been better
if I had slept forever?

Do not look like that, Cora
I have done my best, and I do
I paint and that is what I do...
you know, you know, Cora;
we have known each other
since our childhood:
O for the days of Vermont
the summers of joy and fun
when we were but children
and our hopes were high -
and my mind breaks and my heart weakens
when I see you and the children now
and that I cannot put food on the table
give you the things you need
I can paint, Cora - oh for the life of me, I can -
but I do not know how to haggle,
how to beat the mind of those who undervalue my work
how do you make money
when but art is in the heart?
There is nothing else within me...
I walk in the world an innocent;
‘strange’ they call me, Cora
I try, I try - O I try
I paint plaques and decorations if necessary -
but the money, the money eludes me
it is only paint that sticks;
and I can paint
and that is all I know and that I can do
when the agony blows like cruel storms in my mind
You know, I try, O you know
my spirit nearly breaks
Cora, Cora, Cora
I have done my best, I do
to put bread and meat on the table
for the children and you
but money eludes me, it eludes me
I paint and that is what I do -
you know, you know, Cora
Do not look like that, Cora

1
two days ago
we argued about food
and my sweetheart
she moved out;
she picked up her pillow
and she slept in the next room

2
the next morning
we joked and laughed
as if nothing had happened
but in the evening we argued over
her phone bills
and that night she moved out
even further –
she went to sleep in the third room

3
this morning we laughed again
over muffins and pancakes and coffee
and at 9 pm
we shout at each other
room to room, bed to red
blaming each other about dinner
and she screams:
I’m moving out!
and she moves back to our room
where I am
and under the quilt
I whisper to her:
*I always knew
you’d come back to Number 1

you ask why I linger here long
and do not return to the centers of power
and human endeavor…
it’s all but a life of conditioning and structures…

if you ask me,
human enterprise and human life
are tiresome…and mediocre…
it is a life of basics and self-interests
and finger-pointing
and it is all partial and focused
that grapples with ******* of the parts
but misses the whole…
and one never sees the hubris within;
the errors, it seems, are always elsewhere…
but see, there is no change
without the change in oneself
and so it is that I linger here long
to observe and to see within myself
to see within, and so understand…
for within this chaos of one
within one
there is always but a pointing to the externals
and so the world goes on, and has always been
a world of groups built on mutual lies
so one can feel special and chosen and blessed
and recipient of Highest Revelations
within the group
and feel *O so right
and feel O so safe
and feel O so true…
there is always but a feeling – but not the thing…
there is but conditioning and a building
and that structure is added to on and on…
and so I linger amongst these mountains
and streams and trees and the open
and I observe these with no preconceptions
and linger in that which comes of no future or past
and I observe myself, my mind, my thoughts
and what it is that is called ‘I’…
and so I linger here long…

Sir, I do not see the necessity
of this your classroom exercise that
I should calculate numbers
and perform addition and subtraction feats
all in my head;
this is really too much, Sir…
and while I have always thought you kind and benign,
I see now you have a sadistic streak
Perhaps, Sir –
your childhood was likely not a happy one,
and you now unleash all your anger on us
poor young things and demand we use our heads.
Ah Sir, what did they do to you in your childhood
that you should inflict this counting in heads on us?
It might help you heal to talk
about your childhood travails, Sir –
rather than use this form of torture on youth and so perpetuate this…
For truly, Sir - this counting in my head
which you require today
is really too much;
I mean I have used my fingers and my toes
and I have used pebbles and beads and shells to count
like 1 bead to represent the number 10 and so on…
And when all else have failed
I have even used other people’s heads to count!
and so I can do it all that way
but to use my own head, Sir, as you demand
now that causes in me a severe headache
Sir – really you should not inflict this on us
for I predict now, Sir –
there will be a day when
someone will invent some form of tablet
as in tales of magic and fairies
in which one will be able
to touch numbers on the tablet
and the tablet will be powered within
and the tablet will do all calculations for one, Sir –
and then what need this calculating in one’s head?
Ah Sir, enough of your old age and ancient theories
and ready yourself for the brave new world
for really
this counting in my head
makes my head spin round…

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

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

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

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

Samuel walked up to his boss
and demanded in no uncertain terms:
"You'd best give me a pay rise -
you might want to know
3 companies are after me"

"Wow," said Samuel's boss
deeply impressed. "Which companies?"

"Oh," came Samuel's swift reply
*"The telephone,  electricity
and water companies"

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


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

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

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

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

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

Moon, I hear you are moving away
Why moon, are you moving away?
Don’t you like your neighbors
earth so blue and green
and earthlings so adorable?
Did you not come so near
to get to know your neighbors?
why then are you moving, moon?
I hear you’re moving slowly,
so slowly your neighbors don’t notice
how considerate of you
Anyway, I’ll be gone before you

... he and she are thinking…a life together, still much in love, as always,
but a thought or two, once in a while…


He
Once, she was a frog
and I kissed her
and yeah, she’s beautiful
But hell, I thought she’d come with
castle and lands and fields
I thought that was the deal
but she just told me I’ve got to get real -
they’d done away with kings and queens;
a few were beheaded, and most de-constitutionalized -  
haven’t I heard? *“Have you been living in a well?” she asked.
OK, fine, she comes with all beauty
and love and care and all that – yeah sure,
but a million in US bonds and a billion
in the NYSE indexed on emerging markets
would have been comfy




She
OK - this guy is the best, the greatest, cool
he’s steady, reliable, good and loving and all that -
but oh, how do I get him to wash the dishes?
There are never-ending things and chores to be done -
like tidy the bed in the mornings, vacuum once a week
there’s dust under the table
And you know, such stuff that princesses
don’t lift a delicate finger about -
will he just work on sight of a list,
and get it all done?
And how long can I have him wed and awed
about this Princess thing?
Oh, yes – and I forgot one more crucial thing
that he must always have the bowl lid down after he pees
Is it too late now – should I have included it in the pre-nuptial?

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

When the apostrophe disappears
from ones verse or prose
its plain to see
theres mayhem, and everyones brain is  muddled
I cant make sense of what youre saying
and the judge cant tell if the farm is
Joes or Marys or Philips
or quite literally the pigs own

And of course when it appear’s
in the wrong place’s, it get’s up
everyone’s nerve’s or nose’s;
and it cause’s an identity crisis
between its and it’s;
and its’ like ****’
(thi’s mess’ is’)–
please, please, please -
running down to one’s toe’s

It’s obvious to see
that the apostrophe -
that comma that hangs in the air -
is worth mastering
or may you hang in its stead