trees, trees and plants
we see them with trunks round
Love them, laugh with them
cos you may not see them
all years, always  a -round

Trees, trees
they have no fingers
Oh, but they’ve got many rings;
and they still get on the internet
by logging in

Tulips grow on your face
and if you plant kisses
you get another two lips;
the cucumber goes mad
cos it’s in a pickle;
the mushroom is always invited to parties
cos he’s a fungi

and the dog loves the tree
cos they both have bark;
while the frog’s favorite flower
is the croak-us;
the elephant, on the other hand,
I mean on the other trunk,
loves squash;
and while the fruit
comes from a fruit tree
the chicken comes
from a poul-tree

trees, trees and plants
we see them with trunks round
Love them, laugh with them
cos you may not see them
all years, always  a-round

the nut sneezes: *"Cashew!"
And the lemon is sick
and the kind neighbors
give it lemon-aid;
the tomato turns red
cos it sees the salad dressing;
and baby corn says to mama corn:
"Where’s pop?"

and you humans
if you reach out with your hands
you can fit a palm tree in;
and knock! knock!
who’s there?
"Leaf – yeah, just leaf me alone;
enough of your silly jokes"

Trees, trees and plants
we see them with trunks round
Love them, laugh with them
Cos you may not see them
All years, always  a -round

since the first pop use of the phrase
window of opportunity
(was it Bush or Stargate SG-1?)
politicians big and small
corrupt and incorruptible
fallible and infallible
have all bombarded
the media – on radio, in their blogs
and personal sites
newspapers and journals and broadcasts
and through any speech
they get a chance to make
with that ready phrase:
window of opportunity

Oh, turn on the radio
as you drive maybe
and some glum Finance Minister whispers:
* …grab the window of opportunity…
read the papers and some plump Minister of Health says:
…we must grab this window of opportunity…

Oh, whole speeches in the English Language now
are bullet-ridden with that cliche
and of course the financial planners
and educators
and doctors and even unimaginative lovers
they have all jumped in
into this *window of opportunity
till I’m so irritated and angry now
that if I hear one more eminent personality say:
window of opportunity
Oh, the next time – just one more time –
if I hear anyone use that phrase
window of opportunity
I’m going to send in contract window cleaners
and they’ll grab the window-of-opportunity-user by the collar
and throw them out through the window
and clean the window after –
and I’ll assure you,
those contract window cleaners
will not miss that window of opportunity!

I have seen it, O world,
I have seen it as one sees the clouds
or as one feels water naked in the cool lake  
at the break of dawn
I have felt it as one feels the grapes
seized with savage hands and crushed against one’s teeth
O I have seen the rise and fall of pain
and greed and name and fame
and I have lived the grand ways of the world
of favor and office and recognition
and reward and loss and desertion and days of merry company
and years of desolation and years of patronage and commission
and I have cupped young soft flesh in both my hands;
and I have seen loss, death and growth and promise
and stealth and destruction and infamy
and I have seen genius and I have witnessed mediocrity
and you know, I have amazed and I have disappointed -
as you, O world, as you have disappointed and amazed
I have seen the pageant of emotions
of the rise and fall and the transition and journeys
of all thought and ambition and desire and want
O world, I have seen you and you have much of me
and we have struggled and we have cursed and approved
and we have raised our heads and we have looked the other way
and you have heaped praise and dispraise
and I have created and I have destroyed
and I have cut my own canvas into parts –
but still, O world, still,
if you look at me, if you look –
you know, you know
*I, Rembrandt,
I am always the Monarch

The photojournalist came back after camping
alone out there in the woods
taking pictures with her camera;
loved the nature, the trees
the lakes, and stillness of the nights;
freezing outside
but surprisingly warm in her sleep
in her tough-zipped tent

she collected the photographs
two days after;
*and there were pictures of her
sleeping various nights in her tent
with extra limbs sprawled over her

Grandad Cat
curls his tail
and wants to tell a tale
to his GrandKits Cats
He claws them before him
and he meows a catchy tune
that he shall
tell them a tale

But little Toby
he purrs:
*No, Grand – you're such a bad story-teller
cos you only have
one tale

PREAMBLE*

in the future
we’ll all be perfect
and there’ll be peace forever
and no one will have to complain ever
cos we’ll know
every part of body and brain and mind
and we’ll have them all fixed wherever





1
in the future
people will not say 'Ouch!'
they will say 'Yum!'
cos we’ll have fixed
the part in the brain
where they feel pain
and it’ll all be pleasure
but the skin point
or tissue point
would all have implants
for auto-repair


2
in the future
people need not go to school
cos we’ll have  enough good drugs
to fix their brains
and diamond points in their folds
for life-long
updates and upgrades;
and those Outdates
we'll slow humane-terminate


3
in the future
people will never feel negative
or down
cos we’ll know where it comes from
and flood it with the juices
from the smiley area
cos we’ll know where they come from too
and we can control brain droughts and mind floods


4
in the future
women will not carry babies
nor men either;
so couples can have ***
each strong in desire
and like satyrs in performance
and all no condoms either
and they’ll never conceive
cos we’ll have all the combinations ever
in frozen  silos
that we’ll make copulate in infinite
possibilities and impossibilities



5
we’ll still have nations though
cos the Leaders will be able to choose
what brains they want their citizens to have
and all engineered
in the Nation Babies Pods where all babies will come from
so that we will still have
China Mind, America Mind, Poland Mind,
India Mind, Japanese Mind, Dutch Mind,
Polynesia Mind, Utopia Mind, Ideal Mind,
Reptile Mind, God Mind
and so on…
so really you needn't worry;
you'll still have personality



so really
in the future
we’ll all be perfect
and there’ll be peace forever
and no one will have to complain ever

I want to have
lunch
of all meats and veggies –
can someone cook
and put them all
on the table for me?

I want to eat fine
at a table of ebony
with silverware
in King Louis XIV style –
can somebody procure them for me?

I want to dine
in a Hall of Fame
Queen Cleo style
with singers and slaves
and manacled leopards
at my feet –
Hey, who’s there!
get them all ready for me

I want them all in a
Grand Palace like Versailles
not in some petty lowbrow
Château de Malmaison -
so can someone get it ready
by today eve, precisely 5?

I want to eat in peace
with no noise
and braying donkeys
so - Hey! can someone
shoot that rabble outside
unkempt, untidy
and always wanting free meals off me!

Matter Hill
is what your mind
with your blood and flesh
and your spirit and eternity
and your ideas and vibrations
show you
and tell you to go, you say


So is that Hill
Matter Hill
is that where you want to go?
You want to crawl there
you want to creep and climb there?
Is that Matter Hill
is that where you are headed?

some say there’s life
some say there’s death
and there’s even a guide book to get you there;
and some say the trees burn there
and demand you cast a finger for each tongue of flame

some voice calls
some mystery beckons, you say;
you heard some hideous scream
in the smooth wet of your night
and a prophecy who must go to the Hill
to Matter Hill

O is that Hill
Matter Hill
is there where you must
no matter what, you must go?
Because you heard a voice tell you so:
Go to Matter Hill
no matter what
And you heard the inmates
of the Soul Sanatorium
saying:
There lies a Gorgon there
she will turn you into stone
And you said to them:
Do not look into my eyes
for I will turn you into ash

But what does your heart say?
What does your mind say
in spite of all the claims
and the declamations and revelations?
O is Matter Hill
is that where you want to go
with your wild eyes
and blood-***** fire-smoothed hair?


Is that where your sweetheart lives?
on Matter Hill?
does she whisper **** tales?
does she hover like a Mystical Being
and beckon you
in fog and mist and in moonlight
and also in the darkest of nights?

is that Hill
Matter Hill
that ****** blood painted hill
is that where
no matter what
is that where
you want to go?

with a lilt and a tilt
Ha, I shall go the while
roving over bush and meadows

with a hop and a jump
like a kangaroo
I’ll be away the while
avoiding the roads

with a zzzzz and bzzzzz
like a busy bee
I’ll fly the while
over flowers and gardens
and the free open space

with a bounce and a quiet look
I’ll crawl and hide
in quiet burrows the while
like introduced rabbits
chased by farmers

and with a swing and a flip
a light somersault in the air
I’ll be back before you can say:
“dolphins and whales”

with a lilt and a tilt
Ha, I shall go the while
roving over bush and meadows

I was at the street shops, seated below the canvas
and drinking my sake
innocent to the world
and lost to my cup
when she walked past
smooth, elegant, slow-time
her eyes straight and her manner modest
O I only had eyes for her
that was all there was, that desire
as she glided through the street
her kimono red and strewn with flowers in bloom
her scent lingering in the air
the gold clips gleaming in her black hair
O the kimono was like a cloud ablaze
that wrapped a Being from the Realm of Desires
and my own being was in chaos and stirring
and then just at the other end
just at the bend
the beauty turned her head
and she cast her eyes on me,
just a flitting look
O the beauty looked back
and it is on me she cast her binding gaze

And now, for me,
as for a madman
there is no looking back
I must go where she beckons

Little Tony came running
to his Grandpa Billy:
"Grandpa, Grandpa
can you make sounds like a frog?"

And Grandpa Billy said:
"Well, Tony...I reckon I could make
frog sounds if I tried"

"Yes!" shouted Tony, radiating all eagerness
*"That's good. Now we can all
go to Disneyland, just as grandma said,
when you croak."

DANCING MAN:

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



MAN with the CUP:

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

the eTablets from Mt Sinai
those from on High
they weren’t working
so Current Moses held them high
and he said:
“Anybody knows how to
work these things?
I was never good at Technology,
much less these new eTablets!
Nobody makes them work -
I'll smash them to smithereens!”

The Technician whom
they called to service
was a ****** migrant, a heathen
a pacifist
and a non-believer at that  
And he examined the tablets
and he declared his prognosis:
*“I can see it’s lost its power.
I see too it’s made in China –
I’m afraid it doesn’t come
with a warranty either.
Next time, for software and hardware
try Mongolia, or get your stuff all from India”

abcd
efg
hi jk
lmnop
qrs tuv
w x y
zzzzzzz zzzz zzzzz

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


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


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

once I had a master
whose name lent some dignity and glamour
now I wander
free of institution
free of protocol and guidelines
I am the wandering ronin
nowhere to belong, related to none
and so coming in to freedom

when I was within Order and File And Rank
when I was within Identity and Badge and the Group
I had recognition and complacency
Now I am the ronin with no labels
wandering as I desire
unfettered as the birds of the sky
and as the ocean waves
Now I have no rules to follow, no obligations
just the rhythm of love and justice
Now I see all that I thought was necessary was but a burden;
the price for my place had been my freedom
And now I am the wandering ronin
uninhibited, unconditioned, free
as a sparrow might choose to rest where it pleases

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


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


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

you are walking the streets
you do not walk the boards anymore
your trousers are frayed, your shoes dusty
and the hard walkways have worn them out
you are not presented in the glorious costumes
and the stage crowns anymore
the illusion is gone, it’s reality
that’s permanent now
you’re the beggar, the recluse, the plain and shadow
you walk down to the shops
and your speech raises eyebrows
where’d he learn to speak like that?
they ask, in whispers, like conspirators on stage
your actions are too lofty, your manner too distant
it threatens them, they must crush you –
so that’s why you’ve learned to blend in as well as you can
those were the days
when they heard your words, and they felt it resonate
when they noted your pronouncements
and there was acknowledgement
but those were the days, a long time back when they
looked at you, and they knew you, and they looked in awe
now the children sneer at the old man,
and when it’s too cold, your nose runs
and you need to **** more often
and the women notice you hobble,
you leave the art of significance
and you learn the art of the indistinct
and you’ve learned
which practice is more difficult:
acting the prominent, or acting the anonymous

*Go, old man, old actor, every dog has its day;
the new breed eats the bones today

Puritan James is about
to teach his growing-up son
a thing or two
about the evils of alcohol and drink

He places a glass of water
and a glass of whiskey side by side
on the dining table and he declares:
"Now watch, Mike,
what happens to the worms
I will put in the glass of water
and in the glass of whiskey;
and tell me what you learn"

And Mike watches the worms
curl up and die in the whiskey
and Mike formalises his wisdom:
*"Dad - I learn that if I drink whiskey
I will never have worms!"

And see, this cold ice
that lives in the test tube
is so in love
with the Bunsen burner
and coming near
it exclaims in intense love:
“O flame – eternal flame mine –
O my roaring blue flame, my hot love
Oh see how I melt
whenever near you!”

“Oh, cool it,” says the flame
*“It’s just a phase
you’re passing through”

a subversive poem is nutritious
a bowl of magic soup
to throw in the face
of complacency
and indolence;
but watch out
and its magic can go any way
like if writing a subversive poem
one is
in due course of time
made to eat one’s own words;
still
potion for oneself
or medicine for others
it's as necessary as the doctor

moo moo moo
a dozen milky cows squirt
it all over the fields
while the silly earthworms shake their heads

and see round the corner
comes Lulu
eating vindaloo

boo boo boo
the hot-air ghosts
float at ATMs
while the recorded message goes:
more more more
more easy cash for you

and see round the corner
comes Lulu
eating vindaloo

baa baa baa
forty sheep
each eat the fields bald;
oink oink oink
the pigs wait for it to rain

and see round the corner
comes Lulu
eating vindaloo

’
there was a comma
which was so light
it started to float;
the other down-to-earth commas
ganged up and banished
that comma that dared to cross the line
and so that deviant comma stays there in mid-air
like a feather
and you can see it if you
keep your eyes open



’ ’
and since its fall, or rise,
it’s been called the apostate -
I mean, the apostrophe
Mind you, it’s not to be taken lightly
for it can settle legal cases
as it indicates who things belong to
(like if it is John’s money
or Nicole’s )



’ ’ ’
and in matters of communication
it can abbreviate things
and make the style more conversational



’ ’ ’ ’
But I'll tell you when it’s not so happy:
if you say, for instance: “Its Monday”
or “The dog wags it’s tail” -
ah, then the apostrophe hates you
and it really wishes it could land on your head
like a bag of lead

you got to respect your parents -
they gave birth and brought up kids
without Google or Wikipedia
without going on Safari
and without parading your
baby bottom on social media

and you, in your time,
you run to web-search
every time you get a pimple

the Sphinx, bringer of bad luck and destruction,
half-woman and a lioness,
she throws Oedipus a riddle outside of Thebes
strangled with a curse:
what goes on fours in the morning, two at midday
and three in the evening?


Oedpius, born a prince, feet-mangled
and soon to be a king, well-traveled and bored
and wishing for greater challenges than a riddling sphinx
in his way, answers:
look at me in my prime, I walk on two
and I crawled on fours
and I shall walk with a staff soon enough...
that is the lot of my kind, humankind...



and the Sphinx,
not one to condone one better than itself,
devours itself...

I have deliberated long
said the kangaroo
to the dingo
over the great mysteries of life

And what
did you find?
asked the dingo


Oh,
said the kangaroo
nothing.
They still remain
a great mystery.

1
the lawyer and doctor
meet at a social function
"I just hate it, "
says the doctor to the lawyer
"At social gatherings
I always get people asking
me for advice
and information,
when they know I'm a doctor…
I bet they do that to you too…
How do you deal with these people? "

"O yeah, " says the lawyer
"They do; and I do give them advice
when they ask
and the next day
I send them the bill"


2
The doctor thinks it's a good idea
and goes to his office the next day
to practise what the lawyer had taught him
And he sits at his table, ready to begin
and there right before him is the bill from the lawyer

will this love be pastoral
or gypsy
with abandon and fields and flowers?
dear heart
O dearest love
will it be Parisian
with wine and sophistication?
Will Hamlet and Juliet hold hands here
and Ophelia and Sybil and Cassandra sit in dark corners
watching and casting spells?
will this be Orpheus losing Eurydice
or the love of shepherds unheard of and un-noted in history
and loving with great lust and dying in old age and quiet…
I do not know, I do not know
for I have no power of prophecy.
Do you, sweetest love?
Perhaps you use the Book of I-Ching?

1
I married when I was young, yeah,
a woman just as hale and hearty as me
and course I still had
to hang out with friends
and weekends I’d be off with ‘em
drinking and spending all the week’s pay
from Friday evenin’ till Sunday night

But my wifey ne’er understood that
and one Sunday night she’a said to me
“Why do you do this, mon? How’d you feel
if you don’t get to see me for so many days?”

“Fine by me, sweetie,” I said
as fast and as witty, even in drink


2
and that night I didn’t see her
and come Monday I didn’t see her
and come Tuesday I didn’t see her
and so on Wednesday and came Thursday,
the swelling went down a little
and I saw my wifey again
hale and hearty
out of the corner of my right eye

7 billion of us
that’s a lot of mouths
and tummies to fill

You’re a farmer in Drought Land
(How did I get here?* you ask yourself;
How do you farm dry land? we ask you)
and the weeds grow and your crops die
You need water, water, Hard Rain, plenty of Solid Rain
and the chemical engineer
Velasco of Mexico, he got just that for you
It’s powder, baby –
looks like sugar, honey;
10g of Hard Rain absorbs a Liter of Water
and it’ll stay there on your land for a year at the least

7 billion of us
that’s a lot of mouths
and tummies to fill

it doesn’t evaporate and only the roots can drink it
It’s Hard Rain going to come, baby -
that’s the promise -
it’s Hard Rain on your Dry Land;
it’s absorbent material -
this polymer, yeah baby, it’s called
potassium polyacrylate
and it’s coming to a dry land near you
it’ll lie on your land, and it’ll feed your crops
and you can sell your veggies to me
and that’ll feed me and my family
we’re just too many mouths to feed, you know,
all the 7 billion of us, baby,
on Planet Earth, on Blue Blue Earth

and maybe I’ll buy some Hard Rain myself too
for my own little Eden in my backyard
Oh, it’s Hard Rain, Hard Rain gonna fall on us all, baby
It’s Hard Rain going to come, baby -
that’s the promise
it’s Hard Rain on your Dry Land

*7 billion of us
that’s a lot of mouths
and tummies to fill

Occupy MDP!
that’s
mom’s and dad’s place -
you imbeciles!
Occupy
Mom’s and Dad’s place -
they’ve made too much money!
They’ve worked since
they were twenty
Looking after kids
and saving money –
being selfish
no charity!
just being plain greedy!
Occupy MDP!
Don’t you see?
Mom and Dad got too much money!
Look at me –
I’m twenty-eight
going on twenty-nine –
ain’t got a penny
ain’t got a honey
and Dad and Mom
got too much in the kitty
They put money in the bank!
****! Don’t you see?
Mom and Dad are capitalists!
Occupy MDP!
So Dad and Mom
thirty years
they worked
and raised kids
and they’ve paid every cent on the house!
****! Mom and Dad are capitalists!
****! – they’re bourgeoisie!
Occupy MDP!
Open their fridge– eat for free!
Watch TV, use their internet
and surf with glee –
Mom and Dad can pay every fee!
Cos they’re capitalists
and money pigs –
that’s what they are,
Mom and Dad
So Occupy MDP!
Lie in the couch
and get your friends
in the garden
and trample on the beds of flowers -
****! Can’t you see?
She goes to the hairdresser’s;
She goes to the pedicurist -
Mom’s a bourgeoisie!
Drive Dad’s car
while he snores
who cares if you burn the tires
just drive at speed
for a good adrenalin police chase -
Old Dad will pay the fines anyway!
**** – the police are capitalists!
Dad’s a capitalist!
Mum’s a bourgeoisie!
Come on - O youth of the World
It does not matter if you are past
twenty or thirty -
All youth unite at this cry:
Occupy MDP!
Occupy Mom’s and Dad’s!
O brave Youth of the World -
Occupy MDP!

1
Why is 6 wary of 7?
Because 7 is a 6 offender



2
How do you keep
an idiot in suspense?

the world’s so unpredictable
so different, difficult and uncomfortable often
that I wish everyone were like me
just like me, or better still, exactly like me…
you’ll see, this is the only solution, logically –
beyond the shadow of a doubt, as many are inclined to say,
which expression in itself I find so inconvenient …

you see
because you and you and you are not like me
it all becomes such a waste
with all the negotiation and adjustments
and time spent and funds depleted
in persuasion and information campaigns

but just imagine:
if everybody were like me
and I had to attend a meeting
and of course everybody had to attend the meeting
how convenient and efficient  and quick that would be
cos it’s all just
me, me, me and me
and yet more me, me, me, me and me…
Indeed need we hold meetings at all?
since it’s all me? Just me?
Cos if you are me, and everyone else is me
in my Brave New Me World,
all me know what each me thinks
and wants, than we need not meet me
and one me wherever one is can initiate,
conduct and finish the me meeting…
You get me?

and think of it on a national scale too…
if everyone were like me,
exactly like me –
so that all we have is
me, me, me and me
and yet more me, me, me, me –
imagine the nation in all its simplicity and convenience;
there’d be no need to argue with me
because me agrees with me
and me is one religion, me is one will, one thought,
one language (gibberish, but still one language)
and everything in the nation
will just have to be planned for me.
Simple:
satisfy me and satisfy all
for it’s all me…
for me is the Nation

I leave it to you
to think more of this Me Nation
(or do you need some animation?)

And that silly United Nations -
do you think if everyone were like me
or better still exactly like me,
do we need to have all these delegates and dignitaries flying around
(and sometimes shoes flying too)
and eating half the UN funds in dinners and perks and sightseeing?
Oh, think about it –
if everyone were like me
just as in the Me Nation
you won’t have all this waste in Me UN…
You don’t even need the UN;
just Me is enough
the Me UN…


And what about the world?
have you thought about it?
with me all over the world
and if everyone in the world
were me, me, me, and me and me –
you know, a Chinese me, and an Indian me,
an American me, a Russian me
black me, white me, Christian me, Muslim me, Hindu me,
or atheist me - whatever me is, all is -
and so on
native me and foreign me
just me, me , me, me, me
(Oh, I just love this me!)
everywhere me
and then if I were the President of the world
which I will surely be
cos every me will choose me
cos everyone will want me to be the President
and with President Me
no one will disagree
and there’s no waste
and the word will be so pleasant –
cos I’m no *******
(will me want to hurt me?)
And everything will be so easily arranged
and every me will be in a happy world society
as me is the best me to become every me
One me will be the same as me
and me happy is all happy
And President Me need not worry about
Opinion Polls and votes and what the people want
and President Me need not give lies
and Me People need not listen to ****
cos it’s all just me,
me, and me -
and as if I don’t know what I think,
and what I want, and as if I’d want to kick my own ****
and so it’ll be a Presidency where everyone will be happy
because all things are made for me and planned the way for me
and it’ll be a perpetual everlasting Presidency
for with everyone like me, everyone being me
it’ll be always me coming
new generations or old or dying or single moms and dads
always
me, me, me and more and more me, me, me, me
for perpetuity

and so how about you, what do you think?
Wouldn’t it be all more efficient
and the world a better place
if everyone were like me?
No, no…I don’t mean like you!
Not like you, but like me, me, me,
me, me, me, me…
What do me think?
But since you are like me, you are me
I don’t need to know what you think
*Me no need to know what me thinks…

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



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


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


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



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



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



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



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




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



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





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

the full stop
was quite irritated
with the colon
and he said to the colon:
“What are you doing?”

And colon said: “What?”

And full-stop said:
“Can you tell me what you doing
imitating me like that
and doing a double at that?
You look such a poor imitation of me
floating one above the other!”

“O,” said the colon, and continued:
“It’s plain to see, Sir –
you’re quite drunk;
you’ve had one glass too many
and you’re seeing double
like all drunks do…”

I dreamed last night
of a battle field of frogs
much like opposing human soldiers
we have seen
in their violent play:
there was a general leading
his battalion to war
riding a bloated frog-soldier;
and the frogs used reed
to pound and beat their enemies;
and some used green shoots as rifles
and many a frog, I can assure you,
they did croak in the battlefield…


What does this dream
of the war of frogs presage
for us mice and rats in the city?
I have yet to ask the owl
that hoots nightly in the hollow
of the tree in the park
but my instinct tells me
there'll be a great human battle
and we'll have plenty to eat
for generations to come

1
where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before


had a coffee at the center
caught up with some friends
watched a movie
and bought some stuff for home
and now I can’t find my car
though I’ve searched past 10 minutes



where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before


no, that’s not mine
that’s a Mercedes;
that one’s too shiny;
and maybe it’s this one
- no, mate,
we won’t go any nearer
this car is too clean
mine will look like
it’s not been washed since Noah



where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before


2
well, yes, help me look out...
it’s an old Nissan
blue faded into white;
no, nobody ‘ll steal that
and the only people
who’d give it a second look
will be the traffic police
who’d wave as if to say:
Pull over, Sir;
let’s have a look at
your rego and front tyres


now, where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before


well, ****,
I’m sure it hasn’t moved
it’s not that sort with smart technology
self-park, self-drive or with sensors;
it’s like an old useless dog
completely lost without its master


where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before


now that we’ve looked
about 30 minutes or more
I’m not sure if this is the right level;
Oh, did I stop at Yellow Level
or Blue or Green or Pink?
was it level 1 or 2 or 3 or 9?
it’s completely out of my mind



where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before


ah, there it is
that old boneshaker;
thanks mate, for helping me look
You were saying you want a lift –
yes, come - I'll drop you…no trouble…
yes, it’s just on the way…
Hey…Where you going?
What? Don’t want a lift?
You’d rather walk home?
Hey, what’s wrong with my car?
OK, suit yourself…
at least I found my faithful car…


where did I park my car?
it was Level 5, Yellow Sector
Lot 125
all the while
and that beauty was here each second
an old helpless dog, waiting for its master

1
when I was at university
I did some babysitting:
Send the kids to bed
after meals
Never smile at them
and be very strict –
you know the trick
Instill fear in them
They’ll just stay quiet
in their rooms
while you watch TV
till the parents return

2
So there I was in the living room
and the kids in their room upstairs -
except for one brat
looking down and creeping down the stairs
And I’d say: “Back to the room!”
and he’d crawl back
Three times he did that, that brat


3
Then there was a
knock at the door
It was the neighbour, it seems -
a Mrs Lim; she wanted to know
if her kid Sam was in the house
“No,” I said
but the brat from the stairs behind me shouted:
*“I’m here mum –
but he won’t let me out!”

It flows
people gape but do not see
it flows
they rather postulate
and grasp at comfort-ideas
and doctrine and theology
and build systems of beliefs
and fantasize in the hereafter
But it flows
not with a beginning
or end
or with a start or finish
with promise or tension
but of its own nature
disinterested
in its essence
and expressing itself
as it glows
it flows
in the mountains and the falls
and in the rocks and in the leaves and in the air
it flows
and in the beholder too
in intelligence and consciousness
so that the beholder and subject are one
It flows

me no spit English, me no no Englis, OK?
me barbarrrian, why u one me speak Englis?
u teach me inglish then u want me slave, ya?
u teach me englis and mik mee go from nuture,
from da trees and de lakes and hum of me ancesdors, ya?
and you teach me englis
glive me your stinkin additudes
mik me pollute wold and **** wold like you, yes?
I del u, me spit no englis but sdill u offer skolarsips
and mik me shange name, and then tick on Englis name, ya?
then peeple call me englis name like tom, *****, hairy
or my wife become susan or margate
and me become kristian, yeah?
why I say no englis still u want to tich me englsi
and give me book and mi say, mi say,
luk at my nikid bady laik da die I was born
liiiv me one
don't tiich me englis
or wan day I will kurs and swera in inglis
like who, who, who, like that monster I hard play story
is he nime Caliban, yeah?
me barbarrbaian, dun't mike i civilized like u;
me no no inglis;
me happi with me lunguge and me hum
and my trees and likes and annncesdral places¦
I no wants to spit engilsi and khanges my name and culturte!
and un I no wan to go fom humen!
leave me lone wan, I say! me no spit englis!
or I put u in *** if you no go!

1
if and when I'm retired

I'd expect the world to be kind
and reverential:
so I'd expect when I drive

all people get off the road 

when they see me approach;

and at the bank 
for all to step aside

for a man whose daily 3-time meals

is nothing but baked beans


2
I'd expect the world to be in awe, and to admire
so the women would say: *
”My, look at this retiree
in his psychedelic shirt and rainbow hat
and his bell-bottoms – real cool, baby”
and the men would concur, dazzled:
“Owww - this guy, what planet is he from?”


3
and 
of course I'd expect
 the govt
to send me my cheque
 weekly –
no, wait - EFT
will be the way to go;

and the Minister for the Retired
should call me every 30th

to ask if I’d like a raise

4
Also I’d expect
to wake up each morning
to find a cup of coffee ready on my table
and I’d turn to my wife and say:
“All our lives, you always put the ****** salt
in the coffee”
And I’d expect her to say
(cos that’s always been the way):
“If you want sugar in your coffee
fix your ****** coffee yourself!”*

5
And  all these things I expect
of the world (except of my wife)
to be kind 
and reverential
if and when I’m retired -
but then again, I might just die
at my table at work
after a coffee I fixed myself

since childhood
and since I first knew
that such unglamorous places as libraries exist
(well, obviously the masses think
places of worship and amusement parks
and cinemas and mosh pits are much more attractive
as these draw crowds like scavengers to carcasses)
ah, but I digress
like a man past fifty
which is what I am -
but, as I was saying,
since I first discovered public libraries
(I couldn’t afford to buy books once
and the books I can afford to buy now
are not worth the dollars
the booksellers say I should part with)
ah, but again I digress…

and as I was saying,
all my reading since innocent childhood
has been of borrowed books
from public libraries
which I read and appreciate
but in which I dare not write comments;
I dare not scribble
in the books
for I am worried about fines
and being labeled ‘delinquent borrower’
and losing my reputation
as being an eminent citizen;
and so I do not write comments
but I have to say something
as you can well understand
to express my disagreement or approbation;
but I cannot write my comments beside the text
or at the end of the short story
or at the end of the poem
or in the margins of utterly un-understandable Einstein
and so with no other way
and my frustrations building
and determining through reason
I should not allow my pent-up emotions
to explode into expletives and ravings
and such implosions and explosions
to ***** up my precious emotional and aesthetic life
I decided
since childhood
when I first started reading -
I decided, and
what else could I do?
to explode into expletives and ravings
and such implosions and explosions
and so
unable to write comments
on borrowed material
on public property
I shouted at books
(and still do)
and uttered expletives
(and continue to do so)
or went done on my knees before books
and made sweet moans, something akin
to ****** ecstasy
before, say, a poem of Keats
or shouted and hollered with joy
at a volume of Leaves of Grass
or screamed with disapproval at stories
turned out with worn out plots
and predictable turn of events
where every man had his maiden
and lived happily for ever
well-fed and well-sexed and fatter and happily ever after;
and I made faces at writing
that were just clichés
and poems that waxed lyrical
and I scowled before un-creative pieces
that waffled with thin sentiments
and moans and sighs of love
or of poetic philosophical bombast
and so my reading career,
since childhood -
O most cultured gentlemen and most elegant ladies,
my reading career has been
dogged with explosions of expletives before books I read
or books I refused to read
and also of course with ecstatic cries before
well-written and well-thought out prose or poetry
but, tragically, unable to write on spines or margins
or between lines on borrowed books
this became
a habit so deeply ingrained
I cannot tear myself off from it
and so
you understand why
even in this age of the internet and cyberspace
I find it excruciating to punch in comments
because this borrowed-books mindset
is fixed and ******* so firm in me;
but you can imagine I have
knelt before your poems and blogs
in near ******-ecstasy
or more unkindly
I have uttered expletives
and shouted obscenities at your blogs and posts
and my family have run in to my study
happily thinking I was going insane
and they could finally confine
me in a Hospital for the Insane
but I am ready
and I just grin with a stolen book of Shakespeare
which I keep near for such occasions
and I say to my precious wife:
Oh, I’m just practicing to direct
a modern production of Shakespeare’s plays
sometime in the future, soon
and disappointed,
the family curses and utters profanities

but I digress -
so back to the subject at hand;
and gentle reader,
perhaps we are both one of a kind
and you too suffer from this
borrowed-books mindset
and you give my poems and blogs
and my online posts
the same treatment I give yours…
well, we understand each other
and we naturally utter obscenities
or kneel with pleasure
but leave no comments or scribble
because the shame of public library censure
has too strong a hold on us…
but what is important is,
we understand each other

poem after poem
at online poetry sites
you find is another love poem
Oh Susi
your eyes are like fire
and my heart is hot
for your touch
OK, fair enough
everybody falls in love
and we got to keep the human race pumping
OK, I guess that's good
it keeps the Valentine's Day industry going
and the florists make some money
and if I run an Indian restaurant
you might drop in
to get your baby hot with chilli
and I get some money...
so it's all good...
Oh Man of my Dreams
I shall love you till eternity
and then forever -
and always I'll wash your dishes
and then there is the other thing
more disturbing
than a ***** love-sick stalker
that every other person who falls  in love
or wants to
(even if nobody wants to in return)
seems filled with a scratching need
to write a love poem
and so you write another love poem -
oh no - not another love poem!
Oh, when God created
the world
he created you for me
and me for you
and we for we
OK, if you must inflict it on others
this love poem of yours:
how is it different?
you know -
all loves are the same
but how's your love poem  different?

you row, row, your wooden boat,
rough, sturdy, hardy, made for wear and strain
you yourself
gathered, determined, as tough as nails
as uncouth as your boat
how long have you rowed?
How much is time, what is space and distance
as the ship behind you is never reached
for it forever recedes, as you row, row
and perennially speed the prow
towards
Towards what?
Towards that
Which forever recedes, as you row, row
You row, row, the wooden boat
And all time and effort, all will and motion
is but oil and canvas
A picture, an impression, an illusion
A verisimilitude
of what?
Capturing what?
To embrace what?
That which eludes
Past time, past space, past mind and body
you row,  row, your wooden boat
rough, sturdy, hardy, made for wear and strain
you yourself
gathered, determined, as tough as nails
as uncouth as your boat
how long have you rowed?

1
you come home
and there's bill
(not your friend
but the bill from
your internet provider)
for your cellphone and such

you read your bill
and your son
has to call up the ambulance,
further increasing your bill

2
your 16-year-old daughter
tells you:
"I've got news;
good or bad
depends on how you look
at it: I'm 4-months pregnant -
and before you ask me -
I ******* don't know who"

3
Your grandpa comes back
with his I-just-met-her girlfriend
and she tells you
to move out
and stop sponging on an old man
Your grandpa nods in admiration
and says: "Good on you, girl
I never had the heart to tell him that"

4
The chicken you had for dinner
at the restaurant
(and enjoying which
you went "ooh-wow")
was actually snake meat
topped with dog paws and ears

5
The kid you turned away
in your Scrooge mood
with no treat at the door
stands now at 2 am
beside your bed
with his head in his hands

all life rolled by
all that has gone past
I saw you sit on the stone wall by the lake
and I knew – is there any other way? - what you thought about
the betrayal, the snatches of life and luminescence
from the days when you were a girl
the first day you could feel the stirrings;
all passages of life, all conversations and the promise
the pretty things, the art and the ecstasy -
but mainly the betrayal, I know, I could see it in your expression
and the pain of your children,
beings you brought forth into the world
your pain, each one
your joy, each one
and all of the darkness
the rich trees behind you, the rolling hills farther behind
and the lightness, the union of water and blue sky, by your side
but you looking farther, farther than the sky, farther than the clouds
far away, far away into your thoughts, beyond the sun,
beyond where sun can reach
all things rolled by, all life rolled by
all events, every thought -
O all that has gone past
I saw you sit on the stones by the lake
and I knew what you thought about –
how can I not? -
the betrayal, mainly the betrayal, the betrayal…
I saw you, I saw that…
I know, I know…
There can be no forgetting;
There can be no forgiving
I saw you, I saw that…
But all I could do was to walk, to walk away
carry away my false words, carry away my deeds with me…
and leave you to the distance, to the distance
To the darkness, the luminescence, the betrayals…

you know you take
words and some cement and glue
and you make them all stick together
into verse and poetry;
and you gather love like a rolling stone
and you blow wild seeds in the air
and you’ve got fine diction
and refined sentiments
and it’s made into a poem
and it all makes sense
oh baby,
it all makes too much sense

you work like Vivaldi
and make poems about seasons
or you work like Goethe
and pour roaring poetry
to outdo Shakespeare
and you frighten Edgar Allan Poe;
and you have great insight
like the Buddha or some Great Prophet
or Only One Savior
and you give us mighty fine inspired poetry
pure, pure spirituality;
or you just take Revelation
like the countless mindless followers
the Great Being has been plagued with since Inception
and you make verse
and oh, it all makes sense
it all makes too much sense
and you take my foibles, our foibles
and your poems
laugh at them
or you put fine words together and string beads of harmony
like a millions-dollar necklace
Richard Burton might have offered Liz Taylor
oh you know you make poems
that come across time and cyberspace
and they all maketh perfect sense
but
how about
baby
you and me make verse
that knocks out sense and makes no sense?
poetry that takes the mickey out of meaning?
no, not for a change -
but forever?
no, not for entertainment
but for nonsense?
so that senses is knocked senseless
and we escape you and me
to North Caledonia
to Paradise of rhythm and senseless-beauty
and we have a beat
and we have a pulse
and the street gang says in awe:
Oh, hey
see these two babies move
they’ve got the style
they’ve got the swing
Yeah, they’re a fine couple of babies!
so we got no sense
and sense-less is meaningless
so we got no sense in nonsense either
or senselessness for that matter
we got nothing baby
(well, nothing on as well)
but plenty of rhythm and sway
we drop all fine subjects
that determine our lives
so we are all freed of lies maybe
(we don’t know what will happen)
and we got the spirit of poetry
beyond sense and line and word and form and intent and purpose
and that gets all the universe rocking
(no doubt, there’s enough rock already)
baby
in one baby-making sway
how about that, baby?
you and me
abandon sense
and dance naked between planets and stars?

come, sun rays
kiss my naked feet
bite them, if you think them ****;
put your warmth
in every toe
and re-kindle the flames in my blood;
**** the fungus if you find any there
under or on the nails -
and Oh, I so love your touch
and the way you bounce off my feet;
but you’re really greedy
sun rays -
you kiss and you bite…
Oh I’ll go now, sun rays
you’re turning too hot;
I’ll come back later
at my own pleasure
if I like
when I need more

I don’t like school, Sir
most venerable teacher;
and though you are kind, Sir
and all my classmates too
and you all help me study and learn
like you make me know
the first five characters in the alphabet
but the moment I am out of school
all I  can remember
are the rice-cakes and sweets and the dumplings my mother makes

...and true, Sir
most venerable teacher
you teach me the numbers
and I can count from 1 to 5
when I am in class
but when I’m out
I love the toys my father brings
and  I play with the wooden toy soldiers
and I love the ducks and the clay horses;
and I really can’t remember the first five letters
or the first five characters
when I lie in bed

...and when I am back in class, Sir
dragged in by Old Madam Toothless ****
who always knows where I am wherever I try to run
I can’t remember anything anyone taught me, Sir
O most venerable teacher...

I know, Sir
all of you have spoken to me
and my dad and my mom
and Old Madam Toothless ****
and all my friends in class
I must study so I can go to the city and find work
but school only makes me cry -
and all I want to do, Sir
most venerable teacher
is to play and eat and sleep when it is time
...and one day, Sir
most venerable teacher
(I know you worry about me)
when I’m grown and big
I’ll make toys and I’ll sell them
and make money for me and my family;
and I’ll make all those sweets and dumplings
and feed my family...
so please, Sir
most venerable teacher
because I don’t like school
and I can’t remember anything
do not worry about me and let me go to the fields now
and I shall grow to be tall as the trees
and as rich as the rice fields...

together now
let us sing
the song of inanity
the song of no meaning
it is the song of the no-light
the song of the ludicrous
the ludicrous become meaning
meaning become ludicrous
This become that
That become this
ding! ding! ding! ding!
ping! ping! ping! ping!
everything has penetrated its opposite
and the world become beastly
no beginning, no end
no origins
let us sing now
the world topsy-turvy
the brain in a soup,
the mind’s one word: baa-baa-baa
you sing one line
the other another
and then all together
the song of bad breath and yawns
ding! ding! ding! ding!
ping! ping! ping! ping!
we see King Lear walking
naked in the plains
and we have the Imposter
with his heavy **** on the Throne
which is a Toilet with automated cistern
let us sing then
not then, but now
together now
let us sing
the song of inanity
the song of no meaning
it is the song of the no-light
the song of the ludicrous
the ludicrous become meaning
*ding! ding! ding! ding!
ping! ping! ping! ping!