No, it wasn’t happening for the first time

I don’t know whether anyone wrote ‘Tattered sky’ in a poem before. Maybe it was me. I haven’t met a poet in whose life memory and forgetting are so mixed up. Even if I wrote, maybe I had forgotten it..

Still, I am sure I am the first poet to write ‘tattered sky in the lake’ for the first time in the world. Otherwise, ask those crows pecking it to tatters. Or ask the kingfishers who fly in that tattered sky.

It is not the first time it is happening, you know?

I have cried in keka and kakali meters. I have begged in kalakanchi. I have lied in kalyani. I have laughed and guffawed  in anushtup and sardula vikriditham. I have masturbated in slathakakali, and ****** in anna nada, and let it flow innathonnatha. I have dozed in manjari and died in maakandamanjari. I have gone mad in mandakranta, and have lost myself in meters i don’t know the names of.

Two nuns who went to Aluva river sands to pay annual obeisance to the dead to Jesus

One day, while going via Aluva, i saw two nuns. They were two poor women going to Aluva river sands to pay to Jesus the annual obeisance to the dead.  One among them had the looks of my mother, and the other, that of my girl friend at the church compound. Even when i recited aloud VG Thampi’s lines ‘I am Jesus, unfinished’ they didn’t listen to it. They were not in any way related to me. Then, i was a handicapped Jesus.

It is not the first time it is happening, you know?

I have cried in keka and kakali meters. I have begged in kalakanchi. I have lied in kalyani. I have laughed and guffawed  in anushtup and sardula vikriditham. I have masturbated in slathakakali, and ****** in anna nada, and let it flow innathonnatha. I have dozed in manjari and died in maakandamanjari. I have gone mad in mandakranta, and have lost myself in meters i don’t know the names of.

My name was Shemeer then

In the hospital at NAD, my job was to sleep in the place of that fat insomniac doctor. My name then was Shemeer. I can’t prove through my writing how well I performed my job snoring loudly all the way.  I don’t think anyone would have worked like this so totally oblivious of oneself. My sleep was not in the least affected by the rounded ******* of doctor’s jasmine vine of a wife, or by the odour (i wanted to say smell) which was capable of bringing the dead back to life. Moreover, his two candle-like daughters used to play hopscotch on my bed sheet, which was my work place.  But what to say? They dismissed me from my job for opening my eyes a wee bit on a day at dusk. I heard a shriek. That too, a familiar one. They had brought Madhavi Chothi to the hospital when her asthma got worse. True, i did open my eyes. I am Shemeer, the one who was dismissed from his job for the first time in history, for having startled awake from sleep.

It is not the first time it is happening, you know?

I have cried in keka and kakali meters. I have begged in kalakanchi. I have lied in kalyani. I have laughed and guffawed  in anushtup and sardula vikriditham. I have masturbated in slathakakali, and ****** in anna nada, and let it flow innathonnatha. I have dozed in manjari and died in maakandamanjari. I have gone mad in mandakranta, and have lost myself in meters i don’t know the names of.

One could have adjusted at least a day..**

Something that smelt of breast milk. I think my name was Shinto or so at that time. I was an altar boy who had lost his belief in names after having cognac from a bar in Chicago. There was a little bird too. From that day, i developed the habit of calling even a crow a little bird. Whatever it maybe, there was a little bird. And that bird was building a nest. The bird brings the twigs, strands of hay, a bit of a flex sheet broken at the edge of a word. The bird brings a red wire, the bird brings. It was beginning to take life in the address ‘The Little Bird, Nest, Tree PO ‘. A day. A week. An year. Yes, it took a long, long time. Bird, nest, tree.. tree, nest, bird.. The moment i asked ‘Hey little bird, don’t you have kids?’,  it flew away. Here it comes with its little ones to occupy its home. Yes, that very day. On that day, just after those who won the tender contract, had cut that tree down. This was too much. They could have adjusted at least a day..

It is not the first time it is happening..

I like the word oxymoron –
probably my favourite English word,
It sound derogatory but it is just a figure of speech.
I kind of like the word nincompoop
but I’d change it a bit to noncompoop
which would then I can say is an abbreviation for non-competent ****.
I made up the word mysticscientist –
I know it’s hard to say, perhaps i should shorten it to myscientist.
I like the word strumpet,
coz even though it sounds like a musical instrument,
It’s actually another word for a ****, not the eating kind.
Another fav of mine is teetotaller,
I mean who on earth would ever guess this to mean
someone who doesn’t consume alcohol,
really who came up with this, I’d really like to know.
When young, I learnt a word that truly stuck;
It’s guffawed meaning laughed out loud;
It’s the prefix guff that completely throws you off,
guff out loud, she guffawed or gol like lol!
(guff is not a prefix, just saying it looks like one: guffstraying, guffanalysing, guffanance)
Everyday I open the dictionary to discover new English words;
it’s a wonder to me, that the list keeps growing
only 26 letters but still quite amazing.

Laying around
about the dorm room
Bored
Looking for quick
Stupid cash
We came upon a listing
My roommate and I
in the local paper
Artist models needed
No experience necessary
That was key

The guy on the phone was chirpy
He lived
Close by in Oakland
He gave us directions to where
He would pick the two of us up
We
Would take the bus
He would be in a station wagon
Beige

He met us sure enough
Old
Old as the ******* sea
Formal suit and tie
Maybe a hat
We drove back to the apartment
And entered
First my roommate
And then myself

A ****** yellowed set of rooms
Where we will be heading to the right
To the kitchen
I’ve noticed the battered ***** *****
Mattress
Also
To the right
Stains and an attached clamp lamp
A single stark bulb

We were greeted by an even chirpier young lady
She was like a baby Joan Jett
All rocker black and leather
Sleek hair slicked back
She seemed somehow to like
really really old men

She took over and reached
for the plastic folder
She handed it to us
“You need to look at this before we go on
This is what we do”

Obediently, we cracked it open
and peered inside
Bent over we studied
Sticky plastic pages
Of brightly faced girls
Page
After
Page
Smiling with awkward innocence
No bright eyes nor youthful effanescance
No desire
Nothing wet
Except their palms with thoughts of escape
And 100 dollars

I only remember the girls whose makeup faded around the neck to betray
the true color of their flesh
Not flushed at all with sticky expectation
They left no impression in their nakedness
Ghosts
Shades
They should have been in class or doing something else

But our Joan!
Joan was a star.
Her photos were full of sass and delight
She was more than happy
to show you her ******
Over and over and over
She said
Actually
it’s a club
The guys pay a monthly fee
And they come here and shoot
In the apartment or maybe outside
They cannot touch.
There is no *******.
Mostly they shoot
Me.

Alone.
A Pixie Star.
This was were that old man’s money was.

I don’t remember what she told us
What she used to do before
this had to be a moment
A rather short moment
She would move along because
This kink was overstuffed with
impotence
and ineptitude.
Kink that might be easier to deal
With
On a properly lit stage
Or a quiet motel room with the shades drawn
Cash up front.

But for now
She was the enterprise.
And what would he do without her?
We three giggled and guffawed
in the little kitchenette.
We weren’t game for the arrangement.
She knew that.
But she liked to talk.
Men like that are pathetic.

Seriously why would we do this?
All those faces in the book!
Four on a page
Excitedly, we thought that we recognized
One or two
I know her!
Look I know her! I’ve seen her
in the Poli-Sci Building!
I’m sure we did not know any of them.

The mattress.
I could not fathom what happened on that thing.
I don’t want to know.
I had to look the other way as we left.
Did he perform
Abortions?
With hangers and kitchenware
Can ******* be that messy?
Just opening your legs?

We said goodbye to her!
She was wonderful.
She would sparkle forever.
Joan Jett!
Piling back into this hoarder’s
station wagon amongst
the musty boxes and newspapers
strewn all over the backseat with us
He drove
to the bus stop
A waste of his time
Disgruntled
Failure

He asked
How should this ad read
so that
this doesn’t happen again?
We offered no suggestions.
It had been fun
However idiotic.
I don’t remember
how long it was that
we kept our bus trip
secret.

"Sorry I'm late sir... I ran into a strange man down my street who kept following me and asking to borrow my socks. At first I ignored him but realizing he was following me to school, I stopped to question him. When I asked him why he wanted my socks, he said he wanted to smell their musky scent. I flat out asked this man if he had a foot fettish, and he guffawed telling me he had a smell fettish. I quickly speedwalked away from the freaky man and because my nerves were so jumbled, I forgot to grab a pass in the office."

Finally notices its a female substitue, and looks at classmates to see their mouths hanging open ready to catch flies

"So... I will just sit down now"

my grandfather from liverpool
and my father too
sat in the kitchen
and discussed nothing  new

tired from a long day on the busses
he fell into a trouble slumber in
his arm chair
he thrashed and fussed

we his family would quietly gather
cries of protest and stifled incredulity
cut the warm air
the great grandfather ticked..

(before television
or we listened to arther askey)
he was a proud man
with right of way..

he told the boss to f himself
if he were n´t a gentleman..
what he would make of this
world today..

so,he went through his day
and we tried not to laugh
the man who earned his wage
tired of this *******

i guffawed and he woke
he fixed us with his pale
beautiful eyes..
and later the next morning

in  the lovely little back
garden
in the hushed roar
he said we would be friends..

'O Jesus Christ! I'm hit,' he said; and died.
Whether he vainly cursed, or prayed indeed,
The Bullets chirped - In vain! vain! vain!
Machine-guns chuckled, - Tut-tut! Tut-tut!
And the Big Gun guffawed.


Another sighed, - 'O Mother, mother! Dad!'
Then smiled, at nothing, childlike, being dead.
       And the lofty Shrapnel-cloud
       Leisurely gestured, - Fool!
       And the falling splinters tittered.


'My Love!' one moaned. Love-languid seemed his mood,
Till, slowly lowered, his whole face kissed the mud.
       And the Bayonets' long teeth grinned;
       Rabbles of Shells hooted and groaned;
       And the Gas hissed.

The sleet had piled high up on the side of the road, spraying the brownish gray over the pedestrians. Sharlesburg was far out on the Pennsylvania country side, and the town was choked by trucks hauling by and the smells of dairy farms. No one really stayed there long, aside from the clerks in the little stores, maybe a few waitresses, and none of them wanted to stay around. No, the waitresses all wanted to move to the city and get their big time jobs, and the clerks wanted to move down somewhere warmer to retire. Maybe to the lake, but that was too rough in the winters. Well, the Summers were gorgeous, and so maybe that would work. The only ones who wanted to hang around were the farmers.

     Life was slow, and the farmers knew the land. Time there plodded away slower than the cows grazing on the moors. As one year grew into two and two into six, not much ever really changed for them. The land would go from muddy and torn to green and sparkling, gold and cracked, and again to the mud, smeared with the white from the snow. And all the while, the animals paced, and so did the farmers, wandering deeper and deeper into the rut.

     Tyler sat by the window, watching the cattle huddle together out in the mud, her tea and her breath fogging the window. Her father was out at town for the weekend, though she never really asked why. Monday he would probably stagger home reeking of a medicine cabinet. Another cow might die this winter, she was sure, because she had never learned how to deal with a cow in labor, and the vet didn't like to come by any more. That Tyler wasn't sure of why, but her father was almost certainly the blame for that.

Her mother wasn't around anymore; she left with a furniture salesman to live on the lake.

The television glowered in the corner, the same four channels playing the same four things. Tyler switched them off, but wanted the noise, and turned on the radio.

"REPENT SINNERS REPENT SINNERS! FOR THE FIERY HELL AWAITS YOU! I MEAN YOU, YOU WITH YOUR ****** MUSIC AND YOU JEAN SHORTS! HAVE YOU SEEN THE TV? THOSE GIRLS, WITH THEIR EXPOSED CHESTS AND GOING TO WORK-,"

Tyler switched it off again.

Something had fluttered outside. What really caught her eye was that it wasn't white, like the sky, it wasn't the snow, it wasn't the mud or a black back of a cow. It was something red and shiny.

The snow was falling pretty hard though. She couldn't be sure.

In the quiet, Tyler could discern the mooing yelps of one of the cows. She pulled on her yellow winter coat and scrambled outside. The air was cold and sharp against her nose, ripping away the smells of manure and filth. Even the tobacco from the ashtray was blank; the landscape was nothing but sound and snow and the ******* cold.

      The cows stood in a brace, black bodies radiating heat in the January snow. Tyler shoved them aside, though they hardly budged. Saliva dripped onto her shoulders and onto the ground, little pits in the mud. One cow groaned again, and as she got closer, she saw it was laying on its side in the middle of the brace. A pregnant cow, heaving under the pain of labor.

    She guffawed, trying again to shove the onlookers aside, but it seemed as though they merely packed closer together, and she could hardly get an arm through. As Tyler watched, the cow shrieked in pain.  Cows clamored tighter in the bunch and their eyes swallowed the sight as dully as cud.
"Please, move! get out of the way!"
     Of course, the beasts, they paid no mind. The heifer shrieked again as blood began to spout heavily fourth. The Cows did not even step back. They did not budge as Tyler beat on their rumps, not a flinch. The cries of pain grew weaker and weaker and the legs went from their horrible flailing to the slow movements of a dying moth.
When the scene ended, the cows were no longer amused, and passed on. The heifer was dead. Tyler scrambled forward in hopes of saving maybe the calf.
It was only a ****** rag , hanging sadly from the mother's bowels. no life had touched the wretched thing.
Tyler sighed.
And went back inside.

filled up with enmity coiling up inside
The chest billows up
Thy want to heave it out
Then destined to tranquility

The claws scratch the flesh
Death gnaws on the remnants of longevity
Unless visions have a chest
To burst out into effervescence

Spontaneous sigh is kicked out of your breath
The clavicles sharpen, the eyes ogle ahead
The nothingness dilates
The flicker has no entrance for itself to adumbrate

For utopia has its own gore
To marvel over inside,
The plasters of bliss
Have guffawed over the gullible dusk

The gloom has left with a whisper
A muttering not to be heard
The relief has sewed on flesh
With the clouds coming out of thy outburst

The relief rebirths the serenity
Has been meandered, halted
For thou shed leaves
Making agony to clouds of no return

Utopic defiance,
the idiosyncratic anectodes
Stains of externalized innundation
For the literal existance of hope.

You should have been
at my place
breakfast time
O’Brien said to you

in the playground
after double maths
with Miserable Morris
we’ve got my little cousin Millie

staying for a week
and she said
this morning
as we were sitting eating

what was Uncle
doing to you
in bed last night Auntie?
doing?

my mother said
in a squeaky voice
yes
Millie went on

he was on top of you
making big bear noises
and you were making
squeaky noises

like piggy
going to market
market?
my father muttered

almost choking
like we saw on TV
the other night
Millie said

just a game
my mother said
going red
I stared at Millie

waiting for more
what were you doing
out of bed?
my father asked

I wanted a glass of water
Millie replied
and stood
by your open door

and saw you
in the moonlight
from the window
fun game

my mother said
just fun
I smiled
said O’Brien

watching the parents
drowning over
their tea and toast
he guffawed

and Eddie joined
in his blonde hair
shaking as he moved
but you tried

to picture the scene
wondering what his parents
were doing in bed
in the moonlight

making animals noises
causing Millie concern
and guessed
it was some game

they played
as adult did
sometimes captured
but mostly hid.

Elaine never told
anyone at home
over the weekend

about the boy
who spoke to her
at school on the Friday

that some boy
spoke to her
without verbal abuse

or name calling
was quite a phenomenon
in itself

and if she told
her sister
she would have guffawed

and her father
would have said
who's speaking

to my squat hen?
and her mother
would have looked at her

as if to say you
and that imagination
of yours

so she kept it
to herself
tucked it into

her small *******
next to her heart
and repeated

what he had said
when no one
was around to listen

even in the bath
sitting there
breast high

in soapy suds
(borrowed
from her sister)

she went over
his words
and how

he had said them
and how
she had blushed

as he came up to her
on the sports field
as she stood

by the wire fence
away from others
hands in pockets

snuggled up
into her black coat
her head down

her black hair
center parted
untidily hanging

and said
most birds
have nested by June

but you can still see
where they've nested
she looked at him

wondering if it
was some kind of joke
and that others

may have put him
up to it
but none was there

he stood alone
his brown
brushed back hair

his hazel eyes
gazing into her
as if they saw

her soul
and were feeding there
o I suppose so

she said
her features she knew
had reddened

her words came
out of pitch
do you know much

about birds?
he asked
she gazed at him

standing there
one hand of his
on the fence

by her head
the other in his pocket
she fumbled

for more words
opening up her mind
from its exile

not really
she said
thought not

he said softly
girls don't tend to
I'm John by the way

he added
pointing to his chest
moving back

giving her room
to move
she hesitated

wondering if
she should tell him
her name

she bit her lip
then said
I'm Elaine

he smiled
nice name that
think Tennyson

wrote a poem
about a woman named that
or was it some other?

he looked distracted
for a moment
anyway that was

way back
he said bet
no one has written a poem

about you yet have they?
she looked at his forehead
there were lines there

as if he thought a lot
or maybe too much
no they haven't

she said
shame
he said

you look like
the type of girl
who needs a poem

written about them
she looked over his shoulder
a group of boys

were kicking ball
a group of girls
further over

were sitting on the grass
laughing and talking
but were not

looking her way
but seemed
other wise engaged

shouldn't think anyone
would write a poem
about me

she said
looking at her
black scuffed shoes

course they should
he said
I would

if I was that way
inclined
but I'm more a reader

than writer
she wondered why
he was speaking to her

why he was there
standing in front
of her

staring at her
with his hazel eyes
you've nice eyes

he said
chocolaty brown
and warm and deep

she felt out
of her comfort zone
as if she wandered

into someone else's head
the bell rang
from the school

lunch recess was over
and the boys
kicked the ball

into the tall grass
and the group of girls
rose up from the grass

and walked school wards
like cattle
at milking time

she looked back
at the building
through the wire fence

at the returning pupils
best get back
to being brain washed

he said
see you around
and he touched

her arm gently
as he moved away
walking in a slow

couldn't-care less
-if- I-go- there-pace
she watched him go

her feet
seemingly
rooted to the spot

and her body
was tingling
and feeling hot.

She informed that there are no rules in this game…
I’ll be the chaser and she’ll play my aim…
She said I’ll find her at the exit of this maze…
After seconds, hours or million and one days…

I thought a lot and contemplated…
Her charm and hallow predominated…
She said that I could have her forever…
And that became my only endeavor…

There were two paths towards the left and right…
The mirrors on the walls were gleaming bright…
Each one of them had her reflection…
I took a while to make a selection…

This maze was a very tricky one…
My task I thought had just begun…
It had twisted turns and walls so high…
There was no one to hear me or reply…

Then there were times I met a few other men…
We fought for her most often…
She was all I desired for…
All’s fair in love and war…
Leaping the hurdles became a colossal task…
But fortitude touched the brim of my cask …
I fought my battles like The Samurai’s…
Made more foes than allies…

I constantly looked out for a short cut…
Few doors opened and rest remained shut…
I walked and walked as fast as I could…
Crossed rivers, valleys and the woods…

It got really dark, lonely and cold…
But I decided not to withhold…
What would they say if I now resign…
And if I won then she would be mine…

The sky turned coral and the birds sang a song…
I could see her waiting and couldn’t prolong…
But wait… this is the place where we parted…
I was standing right there from where I started…

I grabbed her in my arms and planted a kiss…
And she reciprocated without amiss…
Like children we guffawed together she and I…
I lived my life again, in the twinkling of an eye…
The game was over and I looked at her…
She stood by my side, my past began to blur…
But where did she come from and what was her name...
Like an enchanted temptress she began to proclaim…

My name is happiness and I am hard to keep…
But if you want me I am dirt cheap…
You hastened inside to lead life without a clue…
Exit was where I stood, right beside you…

You chose to enter in pursuit of me…
Leaving me behind when I stood next to thee…
I am not a trophy or a reward for any game…
Neither a picture that you can photo frame…

I am a feeling, a desire and the madness in love…
I am in freedom, in patience and in letting go of…
Don’t run after me, I'm omnipresent…
Just learn to live, laugh and love to your heart’s content…

~Kathaa Kirti~

Brody's mother
was quite the dame
she had this way
of inviting you in

after school
and offering things
to eat and drink
and hey boys

she said
why not try out
the outside pool?
Brody said

OK
and so you followed him
but what do I wear?
you asked

O nothing
he said
no need
it's only us

and well
the neighbours
can't see ****
and so you went

with him to his room
and undressed
and he gave you
a big white towel

and you went
downstairs with him
to the outside pool
his mother was there

and said
how about a drink of pop?
sure
Brody said

and you nodded
holding tight
to the towel
and off she went

in her red
two piece swimsuit
her **** quite neat
in the sack

of the suit
come on in John
Brody said
don't be shy

and so you dropped
the towel
and climbed in
the pool

and the water
was warm
and came up
to your chest

he swam around
but you just stood there
with arms folded
over your chest

after few moments
his mother came out
with a tray of pop drinks
in glasses with straws

gosh John
she said
looking at you
you sure are white

do you hide your body
from the sun?
Brody laughed
guess so

you said
she smiled then put
the tray on a small
white table

by the pool
and climbed in
the pool
her top piece floating

like pink piggies
you looked
then looked away
she talked

of Brody's father
how he liked to
just lounge
on the water

like a lily
Brody guffawed
some lily
he said

his mother smiled
as she looked at you
her eyes blue liquidy
as if they were

of water
she swam towards you
you afraid of the water John?
can't swim

you said
can't you
she said sexily
Brody you never said

John couldn't swim
didn't know
he said
swimming off

to the other end
of the pool
I’ll have to
show you how

she whispered
would you like me
to show you how?
she came nearer

her piggies seemed
pleased to see you
it's all a matter
of confidence

she said
trust in yourself
and the water
you looked at her

liquidy eyes
she put her arms
under the water
and held you

lift your feet
off the bottom
of the pool
she said

you tried but your feet
wouldn't move
here
she said

and she uprooted you
and you fell
into the water
and splashed

and flapped your arms
like a drowning bird
she held you tight
and said

relax your body
in my arms
you stiffened
then slowly relaxed

in her arms
holding you
to her
the piggies brushing

against you
her breath applely  
and perfumery
right

she said
slowly flap
your legs
in the water

and move the water
with your hands
and arms
and so you did

slow but with a kind
of nervous pleasure
feeling her there
her hands and arms

holding you
and Brody up
the other end
flat on his back

looking at the sky
like some thin lily
as you lounged
with his mother

and her piggies near
getting to trust
the water
and the new acquired

skill she'd shown
and you wished Brody
was gone
and you had her

to yourself
all alone.

Milka waited by the gate
of the farmhouse
for him to arrive

her brothers waited also
for he was their friend first
even if she had
drawn in him

with her emotional tide
I showed him how
to drive a car

one said
and I showed him
how to ride a motorcycle
said the other

in a field
Milka said
just in a ******

farm field
they sniggered
what have you shown him?
the oldest brother asked

yes what fine skills
have you taught him?
the other said laughing

wouldn't you like to know
she said stormily
folding her arms
and avoiding their stares

they guffawed
in the background
then proceeded

to practice their judo
until he arrived
she turned
and glimpsed them

now and then
but all she wanted
was for him to arrive

just a quick word
and maybe kiss
before her brothers
collared him

for the judo practice
the last time he came
and practiced

he had them both down
on the ground in minutes
and she stood
and clapped and cheered

what had she shown him?
that was between
she and him

not for her snooping
brothers to know
she looked up
the narrow road

that led to the farmhouse
but he wasn't in sight
just a car

then a tractor
slowly moving along
whose driver waved
(and she embarrassed

waved back)
one of her brothers
was on the ground

the other stood triumphantly
hands in the air
she looked away
she caught

the summery air
the sight of birds
in flight

but not him
and she'd put on
her new jeans
and top( too tight

her mother said)
with a flowery pattern
then he was coming

over the hill
riding his bike
and the ******
of excitement

ran through her being
and she stood expectantly
by the gate

trying to appear casual
unconcerned
and he dismounted his bike
and came over

his Elvis style quiff
his jeans and shirt
and despite herself

she stood there on tiptoes
her body tingling
and he smiled
and shyly kissed

her cheek
and touched her hand
then walked to her brothers

and they came at him
with their judo moves
and taunts and laughter
and she stood there

watching
sensing the kiss
on her cheek

burn into her skin
and light a fire
of passion within
waiting and watching

feeling his touch
on her hand
(not to be washed off)

and she rubbed
her finger along
where he had laid
his touch

and inwardly
she mused
and thought

o God
o too much.

I saw this video
Of a T-Rex chasing a Jeep
Through a parking lot
And I laughed.
No. I threw my head back and guffawed.
Because it was so ******* funny.
And my first thought was
"She'd love to see this video!"
But before I could finish that thought,
I began to cry
Tears I didn't know still existed in my eyes;
Because I instantly remembered
You're not here anymore
To laugh with me about
T-Rexes chasing Jeeps
Through abandoned parking lots.
And that isn't ******* funny
To me.

Laughter bends to the will
of the one that’s tittering
stating more than happiness
in the span of sound expressed

emotions’ span seeks a way
to exclaim sad dismay
the derision echoed forth
is only part of the retort

madness mixes with the joy
one or the other is explored
in the chuckles and guffaws
declarations sometimes bizarre

the release is paramount
beyond the sanity of the mind
giggles are the uttered balm
lunacy to guffawed calm.

© 2020. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20200126.

The two catholic priests sat
in the Breakfast Room
off the refectory
in the abbey.

They looked up
when you entered
then continued
their conversation
about Dante
and you poured
yourself a coffee
and a small bowl
of Cornflakes
with a little milk
and sugar.

You sat down
and sipped the coffee.

There were prints
of Michelangelo
on the walls
and a crucifix above
and between
the two doors
that led to the
refectory
where the monks ate
three times a day.

The priests conversed
but said nothing to you.

Their words were uttered
in posh well bred voices.

One said
Few believe in Hell these days
and even fewer in Paradise
and those that do
have vague ideas
gathered from odd books
you find on airport
bookshop shelves.

You listened half heartedly
as they talked.  

You wanted to ask
about the place.

Wanted one of them
to hear confession.

Maybe one
to give absolution
and perhaps offer a solution.  

You could hear
the footsteps of monks
in the other room
getting their breakfast
of bread and jam
and black French coffee.

One priest laughed.

You never heard the joke.

The other guffawed loudly
in a girlish voice.

And the woman was seen
leaving by the back door
semi dressed and in great distress
the priest continued
And Father Denton
was never the same.

Then they were silent
and stood and smiled
and went their way.

You sat alone in the room.

The Michelangelo prints
reflected the single bulb
hanging above the table.

The Crucified seemed
above it all.

You would find some other
to hear confession.

To give absolution
from your fall.

They met on suspicious times
Through masks of fear and desire
They strove to build a bold embrace
Wrought on matchsticks made of clay

Cast down fog over distant cold
Beneath, a smoldering uneasiness
With visions of indelible beauty illuminating the bleak
They braved a tumultuous start
To a bliss that rocked their souls

The unforgiving moments shattered the fantastic
Roaring lions drowned out the singing sirens
They could never get ashore
They could only burn so bright
And surrendered to inevitable twilight

Made anew in similar hues
But metamorphosis incomplete
Venus smiled too soon
Time gaffed then cruelly guffawed
That laughter shaded the earth
As waves of joy turned pools of sorrow

She hangs brightly over him
In his requiem for unrequited love
He mourns for her return
He wants to be adored
Or he wants it all forgotten

Shiny dreams, now hurtful reminders
Of limitless undying love
Glistening like a million stars
Meandering, never to dance again

Their love, razed by a time before their time,
Chock-full of unbridled potential and power
He is haunted by this possible future
He can't let her go

Looking at the full moon, kerosene flame says,
On my forehead, draw a mark of royalty.

When you are covered, in the new moon
Yet I, with the light, go on lighting.

Hearing this the earthen lamp, guffawed
People loves more, in worship-prayer.

Moon smiled and said, "Listen, both of you."
You both are equally meritorious, there is no shame.

She gave the last push,
I slid out swoosh,
I didn't want to come,
To this world,cumbersome.
I refused to cry,
The doc would not let me die,
I gave out a wail,
He beamed,"See, I never fail.
The nurse gave me to mum,
Tired, dishevelled,utterly happy
she stretched out her arms,"Come, come,
My handsome chum."
Yes,lady, life is going to be fun,
You and me, your little one,
Where's my old man that brought me here,
There he was near mummy dear,
Oh my Lord! You have sent me to softies,
Not like the last,pretending to be believers in deities,
Forced me to live in fear and abuse,
These ones of cruelty I cannot accuse.
Lord! This time you have changed the stage,
A couple, of middle age,
Pining  for a child,
I smiled,
Held mum's thumb,
Tried to ****,dumb,
Gave the old man a grin,
Such happiness I had never seen,
I promised to be terrible two from now,
The Lord guffawed.
6/6/2019

Emirate city
A district filled with lies and deceit
Home of fabrics and silk
Blessed with honey and milk
Where a man controls it all; like it's his compound
Where he rules like a god with the power-bound

Emirate city
Where liveth handsome and pretty
But their greed and pride; I pity.
Where kids are raised
To raise mace against their race
As long as there's cash; the guilty’d beat the case
And the innocent will die in prison jail

Emirate city
A big city with the view of a family house
Where ma'am sell their dignity for bread and blouse
Where real man are those who could puff-in ****
Just to get em high to fulfil their mission of greed
Where those who wear hijab are criticised
And the half-naked are tagged as civilised

Emirate city
Where graduates walk around the streets
Looking for handy job to get his belly feed
His certificate may not grant him a policy
Why? Because he is not involve in politics

Emirate city
Enormity district
Fortress of lies and deceit
Where man sees lies as truth
Where being upright is rude
Where Money is man's only desire
Home for only those who pledge allegiance to their sire

Emirate city
Where men of God has turn to ritualist
And the politicians and religious leaders are much of spiritualist
Where black coal burns to black ash
Where horse rides on man's back
Where the head controls man's heart
Where man is the slave and money is his master

Emirate city
Where silence is our default
Those who yearn for revolution are seen as thugs
"Ranti omo eni ti o nse"; parent tell their sons thus
Proverb passed down from ancestors to grandsons
No matter how oppressed we are; we should not talk
No, this will not work
Not anymore
Every sector in the Emirate city is corrupt
And every form of justice’s being disrupt
Now we are pushed to the wall
Our rage for change's erupt
They say we should just pray, work hard and wish
But we're too tired and we can't keep being like this
They say if we go against him; then, we're ungrateful
Religion leaders are much hateful, they don't even feel shameful
He, who takes away all our harvest and give us just a seed,
He, which should serve, but rule over us with greed
A definition of a true pillage
And yet they call him our true image
Maybe their sense is not in its normal state
Maybe, he's got hold of their brain, and now he remote-control their fate
Hmm; I just guffawed
Should we keep mute till this virus **** us all?
Away from our home, should we flee and run
No, we'll stand tall, firm for our children's sake
We'll sleep-walk and dream while awake
We really need to wake
For our future is being put on stake
But we keep-on singing "we are the leaders of tomorrow"
If we keep-on on this path we follow
Our dreams and hope will end up in hollow
Our weakened heart will be pierced by filthy arrow
If we make oppression our host; and we become its parasite
We'll die as civil slave,
And heaven will reject our stay
We'll not be chance to be a guest in paradise
Because paradise is not meant for cowardice

On a bright summer day,
A small boy and a man
Sat on a bench in a park

They knew not one another
Yet the tiny tot smiled into his eyes and asked, 'Do you believe in miracles'?

The man, amused,
Looked up at the heavens in the sky
Gazing at the endless, mesmerising blue
At the sun he squinted; the glowing ball of fire that warmed the soil
A bird chirped,
He turned and spotted her vibrant feathers
The hills behind him stood tall
While the trees danced to the tune of the wind

The man then looked at the boy
He shook his head; uttered the abrasive syllable
The child, filled with disbelief
Smirked at the man

Then the sky laughed
And the sun smiled
The bird giggled
The earth grinned
And the hills guffawed

As the man watched on gravely
Trapped in his clouded mind
That blinded him,
Unable to see the blatant miraculous world
that stared and mocked

I raged with fury,
I trembled with shame wishing to be buried,
I had turned crimson,
Tears brimmed from my eyes,
Flooded down my cheeks.
My husband hid behind the guests,
The guests stared aghast,
My mother-in-law slumped on the sofa fast,
My sixteen year old daughter giggled,
My son guffawed,Dr.Do Little,
Me,a centre stage!
Because our newly employed
houseboy from the village,
Copied ditto my husband,
Out of nowhere he appeared like a magic wand,
Courtesied with a gallant swoon,
Saying,"Darling, my **** moon!
Will you have something
To make you more refreshing."

It was early evening. Maybe it was early morn. I couldn't tell if the sun had just risen or set, because the clouds in my east window were the same grey as the clouds in my west. It could've been midday, even a really bright midnight.
My study was bruised with heavy footfalls and its eyes were weary, flickering and hoping to be shut. Crumpled ideas spilled over from the waste basket that was hopelessly too small to burden all my failures. I buried my head in my hands, too empty to think.
It was then, as my hands grabbed my hair and my palms pressed against my eyes, that the knock whispered on my door. I turned to it as it creaked open, and there, in my doorway, stood a man with a chain in his one hand, and my dreams in his other.
He had nails like claws and his skin was covered in a mixture of scales and boils and open sores. The sight of the pus oozing from several cracks caused me to scratch my own skin in discomfort. He needed to leave.
He wore a pinstriped suit - several sizes too large around the waist and chest, and several too small around his wrists and ankles. He donned a ***** bowler hat that matched his sickly grey suit that had once been a shimmering black.
His eyes were smoky and unseeing, yet they pierced me deeply as they stared into my own. His lips were cracked and dry, and a trickle of thick, black tar dribbled down the side of his mouth. Boils and swollen punches covered his ears and he could not hear.
His nostrils had grown shut.
He tried to open his mouth, but he could not speak.
He held out his hand, the one with my dreams, and offered them to me as though they were mine, but secretly knowing they were no one's. Foolishly, I reached for them, and he plucked his arm away. He guffawed a silent, haunting laugh from his ever-shut mouth. He dropped my dreams on the floor, and stamped his unkempt foot upon it. He held out his hand, the one with the chain, offering it to me with sincerity and pity. I hesitated.
I obliged.
Carefully and gently, he locked my wrist in and patted my hand soothingly. Then he tugged on the chain, pulling it from his jacket pocket until finally, he produced a small and plain, dark grey ball that the chain was connected to.
He dropped the ball and it lay beside my colourful, trampled, and crumpled dreams.
The message was clear.

From the brilliant striped tents,
To the malodorous animal dung,
Peanuts, popcorn-
Filled the air. I had to-
Explore the tents and through the doors,
To see the animals that wait for no one.


My concerns behind,
And nothing but mysteries ahead,
I peak in each room,
‘Till I stumble upon the strangest of all.
A man with full rose lips,
A face as fresh as a new piece of paper,
And a foam tomato-
Perched upon his nose. He was a laugh to see-
Until it all came off.


He tugged at the foam tomato,
Like burnt flesh, or overcooked leather-
A long rod-like nose unfurled from beneath,
I was so morbidly curious; I had to see what else was in store.
Next the bony fingers grasped the smile-
And peeled gradually at the rose red lips.
For underneath the smile lay rows of jagged shark teeth.
He bared his teeth at me!





Those teeth, caked in blood and chipped to a point-
Those eyes, have killed, and they have witnessed everything-
I will never forget when they stared into my soul.
The creature guffawed,
Like a monkey, he hooted!


And with our eyes still locked,
He asked in his creaking diminutive voice
“Are you friends with the monsters under your bed?”
His teeth flashed once more,
And I scampered out of the room,
Then I thought to myself.
For a clown, he wasn’t really that funny.