"kashi" poems
Myself caught in the heatwave sunlight, brown eyes
furrowed in the sun, scarf loose on my neck/
the transcendental Denpasar morning-birds
are playing their melodies in my head still,
three years post-Indonesia.
All of my soul to India now,
sky the pink of painted elephants
on Jaipur dawning,
my afterlife was somewhere here
perhaps two generations ago, chances are.
Vijay Raghav Rao and Alla Rakha
playing the Tabla/via earphones/treading the
Funary Box City (Kashi) future Spring
hands held together keeping calm pace.
Looking about, my twenty-two year old face
catches humid wind
S
I
L
V
E
R
S
H
O
P
tattered bike leaning on the gated guest house entrance
PERENNIAL AZURE SHIVA SITS CROSS LEGGED/
COBRA NECKLACE IMITIATONS ON THE GODDESS THROAT/
MEDITATING SHIVA/
dulled from years and corrosion.
Brahmin center of the market street
flapping it's tail,
sweat beads from my forehead bleeding
to oily pavement.
At last the months have come for the river Ganges,
April penumbra/savage thunderclap
while school children uplifting the heart
AND MIND
are ROARING in their laughter
the CONTINENTAL DISCORD OF JOY
sleeping with their eyes open
while others are too tired for the Earth.
Sidney Bechet floating swan songs during
the black hour cremations/
“Bechet Creole Blues”
CATERWAUL IN THAT VOID
THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DEATH/
LUNACY OF LIFE
(I've arrived at the simultaneous crossroads
of both)
searing flesh in open air pyramids/
Manikarnika Ghat,
Asia F
L
O
W
S
through dreams
like inevitable prophecy
and as ash blends with stars
the CITY seems fulfilled
and mystifying
in it's
(((((RESPLENDENCE)))))
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
i once heard a quote
it went something like
"one of the cruelest things you can do to someone is to pretend you care about them, more than you do"
that's actually exactly how it goes
might sound nice off some kashi poet's lips
but the feeling is what really makes this string of words strong
one's feelings
real or not
can completely ruin another
and when you finally see
that they don't care for you as much as they used to
or care for you at all, even though they said they did
it hurts like hell.
feels like bullets to your already ****** chest, from your heart being previously ripped out viciously by good ol' reality's unforgiving hands.
and that may be an understatement.
anyways, if you don't love another
or care about them,
don't pretend you do,
because even though those words,
sweet like honey off of your pink lips, make her smile big.
the tears that follow lies
are the nastiest of all
and no sweet words
can fix a broken heart
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
she stood by me even when
most of my disasters
were of mine own creative actions,
but in the crises that always
unexpectedly
rose up dramatically
when driving off road,
where there were
no guardrail guarantees
so when the doc says
“sir, needed surgery right away,”
She unashamedly inquires
“ok, what about tomorrow”
making us all chuckle,
and doc a smile/responder,
“how about 6:00am the day after?”
and you accept (me observing)
with
a stern smile of pretending concession
so when recovery consists of
three ++ walks a day through
the corridors of the Unit
which morphed from an endless huge
to a
small prison courtyard,
where in a day everyone,
patients doctors and
rotating shifts of nurses
are greeted by me,
idiot extrovert,
with an intitial
giant hello and a wink,
which after first three
“shuffles around the block”
has become a
saluting exultation,
a look of surprise
with a
“You Again!”
that gets the inevitable
twinkle from everyone
somehow
this greeting came home with us
and thereafter when,
she stirred awake
to see me shuffling in with
coffee and a quarter cup
of crunchy Kashi & banana
(a/k/a nana & banana)
and a too loud
“You Again!”
which infallible makes
an AM grumpy disappear
and
soon becomes
a time honored
ritual
now that I’ve honored the oath
which was promised jokingly
by me to She,
that I be the last to depart,
cause doing it twice,
was an unbearable job,
and long enough gone
and I am back in my
own private recovery
honeyed (yellow) painted room,
The Enpty Pillow
with imaginary smiley face,
hears a mourning yellowing phrase,
and when the grandchildren
make
their obligatory dragged along
monthly visitation they be greeted
by old friends
a firm hug and an
emboldened
“You Again”
and their smile says
“you’re embarrassing us”
+++ childlike acceptance
and the rivulets ridiculousness
that accompany this scripting,
+ any accidental overhearing,
or get even getting a read,
is fresh brought out of
tears storage
and each teary one with
a Hey!
meant to be cheeryr
greet & repeat
😉us again!😉
Sep 29, 2024
Sep 29, 2024 at 11:52 AM UTC
(Dedicated to our dear bhakti friend and kindred spirit
Catherine Jansen)
Catherine dances
around the cremation grounds
with the Nagi, Sadhus of Lord Shiva
skulls and snakes dangling from
their fearsome necks
Her unique eye is able to
behold beauty in the
dreadful and sublime
Cat's heart belongs to Banaras
also known as Varanasi, Kashi
City of Temples and Light
to die in Banaras is considered auspicious
and augers salvation
With Love and Compassion of the
Divine Mother
Catherine showers happy gifts
on orphaned street children
Clutching Barbie dolls and flashing
brand new dental smiles
they dance with her along the Ganges
Catherine dances with an all seeing camera
in her hands
Zooming in
and
Zooming out
of the sacred, human, transcendental experience
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 7:37 PM UTC