(This poem is on the earthquake that people in Sikkim,India had faced on 18 September 2011. I was one among them too! P.S- on this very that is my brother's birthday! So i remember it more profoundly....just read on to find out more. Certain words mean the following out here-
MG MARG- MAHATMA GANDHI MARG.{Marg means street.}
LAL BAZAAR-refers to a marketing place in the capital of Sikkim,i.e,Gangtok)
MAAL ROADING-Maal road is generally found in most of the hill stations in India. But in my college, Maal Road has a different and funny meaning.)
DISCO COMMITTEE-refers to the DISCIPLINARY Committee in our college,which takes stringent actions against the guilty.)

18 was the date-
When a bunch of girls had decided
to travel through the city.
But I was the one who wasn't prepared,
As it was raining pretty heavy.
The girls planned to eat,roam and shop about,
through the MG MARG and LAL BAZAAR!
Fortunately for me due to some unavoidable circumstances
the plan got dropped....
And all I could see was girls making unbearable pouts!!

In the evening,
when people go out MAAL ROADING,
I went to the shop with a company
for buying a recharge card as done daily!
Though I bought it,
I somehow forgot to scratch it, I rather kept it inside my bag.

Strolling down the campus
We sat on the football field
Watching the players kicking the ball in glee
With their boots,shorts and tee!
At exactly 6:10 pm, there was a great turbulence,
which caused a whole lot of purturbence!
Yes, that was the 6.9 that shook us!
People running to and fro to save their lives,
some shirtless,some barefooted and some in towels!

With buildings shaking and cracking
there was nothing
but utter horror and shouting!
People seemed like Refugees,
With no phone networks to contact friends,relatives and families!
We were told to sleep with our room doors open.
But how could we when there were still tremors coming?
SHAKE! and people would be out on the streets!

Such a day it was, when Mother Nature had terrorised us!
Still the authorities couldn't help themselves from separating boys and girls!!
If they happen to meet each other,
They would have to face the DISCO COMMITTEE all together!

Huh!! When will you get rid off this mentality?
So that we can live joyous and peacefully!!!

As it fell out on a long summer's day,
  Two lovers they sat on a hill;
They sat together that long summer's day,
  And could not talk their fill.

"I see no harm by you, Margarèt,
  And you see none by mee;
Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock
  A rich wedding you shall see."

Fair Margaret sat in her bower-windòw,
  Combing her yellow hair;
There she spyed sweet William and his bride,
  As they were a riding near.

Then down she layd her ivory combe,
  And braided her hair in twain:
She went alive out of her bower,
  But ne'er came alive in't again.

When day was gone, and night was come,
  And all men fast asleep,
Then came the spirit of Fair Marg'ret,
  And stood at William's feet.

"Are you awake, sweet William?" shee said,
  "Or, sweet William, are you asleep?
God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,
  And me of my winding sheet."

When day was come, and night was gone,
  And all men wak'd from sleep,
Sweet William to his lady sayd,
  "My dear, I have cause to weep.

"I dreamt a dream, my dear ladyè,
  Such dreames are never good:
I dreamt my bower was full of red 'wine,'
  And my bride-bed full of blood."

"Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured sir,
  They never do prove good;
To dream thy bower was full of red 'wine,'
  And thy bride-bed full of blood."

He called up his merry men all,
  By one, by two, and by three;
Saying, "I'll away to fair Marg'ret's bower,
  By the leave of my ladiè."

And when he came to fair Marg'ret's bower,
  He knocked at the ring;
And who so ready as her seven brethrèn
  To let sweet William in.

Then he turned up the covering-sheet;
  "Pray let me see the dead;
Methinks she looks all pale and wan.
  She hath lost her cherry red.

"I'll do more for thee, Margarèt,
  Than any of thy kin:
For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,
  Though a smile I cannot win."

With that bespake the seven brethrèn,
  Making most piteous mone,
"You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,
  And let our sister alone."

"If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,
  I do but what is right;
I ne'er made a vow to yonder poor corpse,
  By day, nor yet by night.

"Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,
  Deal on your cake and your wine:
For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day,
  Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine."

Fair Margaret dyed to-day, to-day,
  Sweet William dyed the morrow:
Fair Margaret dyed for pure true love,
  Sweet William dyed for sorrow.

Margaret was buryed in the lower chancèl,
  And William in the higher:
Out of her brest there sprang a rose,
  And out of his a briar.

They grew till they grew unto the church top,
  And then they could grow no higher;
And there they tyed in a true lover's knot,
  Which made all the people admire.

Then came the clerk of the parish,
  As you the truth shall hear,
And by misfortune cut them down,
  Or they had now been there.

(For Marg and Laurice, snake charmers extraordinaire)
  
Like the Burmese priestess
kissing the cobra
I must never take my eyes off
that steely, staring, coal-black serpent eye
lest the fangs swaying in that unborn smile
strike
in the split-second
that contains my salvation or my undoing.
Lips always poised between heaven and hell,
I advance on the servant of knowledge
hooded with an assumed mastery,
that hood branded with Nature's tattoo:
Omega, the end
and that flickering tongue that reads my body
temperature could cut it cold.
Cold as the smooth-bumpy reptilian snout
upon which I lightly lay
the final kiss.

The money I'm saving on Christmas this year
will be incredibly useful for buying more beer
I'm not buying presents for family and friends
But this festive season I will be making amends

I'll never shop early for presents to give
I swear on my mother, for as long as I live
For while looking for boxes and our Christmas tree
I found boxes of presents from seventy three

All wrapped up and labelled in a box all alone
Hidden by an old blanket that was haphazardly thrown
Beside it, more presents from around eighty four
And as I kept on searching I found many more

There were presents for Grandad, who is now pushing daisies
And a few for Aunt Marg, who we all know was crazy
Gifts for the children, who now have kids of their own
In fact almost all are for children who've grown

I found a few that were given from Santa himself
And a few for my husband on an old wooden shelf
All wrapped up and labelled and dusty as well
I'd febreeze them downstairs to get rid of the smell

I promise from now, I will write down what I hide
And I'll draw a small map to use as a guide
I can't wait now for Christmas to see what we've got
From all the Christmases past, and the gifts I forgot!

More of a man at 20 than at 22

All of the passages about One, there were no others

Regressing into sin, no art without misery

That old cliche, right? Right.

I read somewhere that he wanted to be a writer

He wanted to be a great writer, Remembered

Taking, making great sacrifices for art

Alcohol, Benzedrine, Isolation

Checkmate, One and Two and Three

The night (this night) will be my Desolation Peak

For now,

Looking back through the pages

Who exists in this manuscript?

Who is Marg?

Who is Sil?

Won’t you please tell me?

Won’t you come fill my Head. I’m not asking

Won’t you come fill my bed?

So I need not pretend

Were it that I could let you in

Save for those rare times when everyone appears not unctuous

          To my uneasy usurious eyes

In an act of desperate atavism I return to the roots,

To the past, to the Grass,

      (Looking)

           To the glass

Only momentarily half empty

Before it is refilled

Where will we find our answers honey?

When will we cease to believe this positive psychology *******?

You don’t need to be happy

You don’t need to be comfortable

You need to Mean

                 to have

                             Meaning

                                   to create a legacy

Not shrouded in shame

    and neglect

         and fear

It doesn’t have to be the same

New city, new hope, new name

Erase the stain with pen and paper

Evoke change

See the world through baby blue eyes

   The bucolic beauty brilliantly beats and beads down, blooming

        Bright flowers in early mildew sunlight

            Or Big Sur - view from the mountains

                Or the moon

Soon my love, soon

   Swoon, sweetly suggest

       The sight of a lover’s supple *******

            And her name like poetry on your soft still whispering lips

   Tantalizing and tickling tongues

       Tickling and tucking shyly

Soft skin swimming in hushed tones, brushed bones and quiet sighs

   Wide eyed, clenching belies

       The beginning and the end of far more

min navle er sløret
her, hvor jeg er druknet
er vandet grønt
jeg sluger forsætligt
min hud er et uklart akvarium
indvoldene ætset væk
jeg har aldrig set mine egne knogler
har aldrig smagt min marg
gad egentlig godt være see through

It is quite an event!
Gerry Atric is old enough to know that Joshua Tree isn’t the right guy for Marine Layer. Anyway, she is more interested in Donny Brook, who had just broken up with Dee Ported, for obvious reasons. There they are, carousing on the Sunset Strip: Perry Winkle, Penny Farthing, Miss Understanding and Poppy ****, when who walks in --- Sara N Dippity, with ***** Nilly and Sal Amander, one on each arm!
Now Sara used to be the significant other of Mort Ify, before him, Pete Moss, before him, Charlie Horse and before him, Al Luminum! Go figure. That leaves Tess Osterone who cannot though she tries, attract any of these fine fellows, so she nurses a drink with Terri Ble, and wails about her latest disappointment with Con Descending.
Trying to calm the situation is Herb Tea, but even he ends up having cross words with **** Tatorial, who finally splits with Paddy Wagon in tow and heads over to see Tia Juana, and if they have time, Nan Tucket.
Why General Jive and Warren Peace are huddled has yet to be explained. Oblivious to all of us Mac Aroon and Junior Mints, shared tasty morsels and a libation with Amber Beer.
Preppy dressed Cord Uroy hangs with the stylsh Art Ist, each trying to make a move on Joy D. Vivre, but they are stopped by Moe Mentum , who had the inside track up until Scott Free, Gus To and Juan Derful surround the crowd, each trying to make some time with her.
Consider Lilli Put conversing with Al Falfa, while Rich People and Cord Cutter trying to listen in, but are thwarted by Mari Gold who interfered with that desire as she was shouting epithets at Con Undrum, who doesn’t know what to do. Miss Issippi cruises in and with Molly Fi, who tries to calm the situation. Watching from the corner is Bob Cat, wary of Miss Creant, who is eying him, all while she is being scoped out by Val I Date.
If life is sometimes a desert, Mo Have personifies it; he has his own problems trying to get out of the way of Uri Nalysis, who is just plain trouble. Jonathan Club is his usual convivial self, making conversation with Trey Chrotomy, who keeps clearing his throat. I was amazed to see Leo **** getting dressed down by Dinah Mite, supported in her criticism by Dee Mise.
Let us turn to the artistic arrivals: Marshall Amp and Art Professor, both adding some zest to the gathering, enabled in part by the always attractive Dee Colletage. Bill O’Lading is a bore until he jumps into the drink with Jac Uzzi, accompanied by Nat Ural, as they view the valley below and drink champagne with Elle Vation. Bobbi Pin pops everyone’s balloon by getting wasted and along with Cara Van is asked to leave. But this paled in comparison to Al Abaster attacking Ana Conda for hitting on her significant other, Tom A. Hawk.
Everyone stays away from Hal Itosis except Sue Venir and Mel Lifluos who avoids discussing the obvious. Commiserating and having a bad time are Marg Inal and June Gloom, but then they’re always that way when they get together.
Moving up in the world is Val Et, with her new recruit, Ann Appolis, decked out in a matching outfit with Lily White. Terry Dactl flew in to convince Dee Nial she had a true friend in Mother Nature, but that she should get a second opinion from Al Egory, any to hear what Brandy Alexander had to say as long as she was not slurring her words.
Everybody loves Gus To, he’s so nice to everyone, even the plain Lyn Olium and the depressing Miss Ann Thrope. We aren’t sure what to make of Sal Amander, who seemed a bit slimy, especially coupled with Beau Dacious. What were they up to? Dan Ube engaged Earnest Money to find out. He reported they were going to fleece Dan Druff and Butch Haircut, who should not invest in their hair-brained scheme.
Al Abama buttered up Cy Pres, hoping for some charity, while Minnie Scule and Tara Bite made an unlikely duo. “Respect” said Jen Uflect, that’s what everyone deserves, as she curtsied at the arrival of Caesar Salad. “Ha, ha, ha,” Heidi ** merrily exclaimed, joined by the mysterious I Stanbul. All he did was complain about the political situation.
Mary Me cannot get enough of Al Falfa, though she would have done better with the always engaging Mo Zart. Too bad he is always with Tom Foolery and Cass Anova, both with questionable motives. I know for a fact that Beau Dacious has crashed this party, pretending to have an invite from Des Ire. Outside, mystified by the diverse assemblage stands Papa Razzi, camera in hand. Hal Leluha tries to talk his way in, but gets nowhere is he is not on the list, says party planner Claire Ify. Mel Ifluous, on the other hand, though not an invitee, does get past the velvet rope, which I surmise is because he is with that wealthy Main Liner, Phil Adelphia.
Back inside the party I encounter Lazy Susan having a drink with Bud Weiser.  Here’s an unusual assortment: Guy Dance, Major Minor, Hazel Nuts and Scott Free. His choice of clothing questionable, Lee Derhosen paints a pretty picture about his life to Al Fresco, who is dismissive. Maybe that is because Mo Hawk puts him down, but he gets some protection from Val Id. Dee Tatched, never a joiner, talks business with Perry Mutual, who is threatened by his nemesis, Vito Power. Jungle Jim back from his travels, has a new mate, Lazy Susan, she having moved on from Leo ****.
How Riff Raff got an invite is shocking and I hope he will depart soon with Lee Ving, Bob N Weave, and Con Descenion. Louis Ville slugs it out, batting away the negative but truculent comments of Claire Ification. Tim Buktu acts like he is in another country, causing Mort Ified to hang his head, all made worse by the mutterings of Carrie On.
Mentor Ing tries to advise Con Flagration to cool it and is helped by
Dolly Grip and Frank Lee Speaking. Stu Pendus addresses each issue raised by Bill O’ Particulars, but he cannot allay the suspicions of Artie Choke, finally saying he must be in a vegetative state if he cannot understand the implications of what he proposes. Bo Tox just stood there, trying to look good.
The last to leave is Senor Ity. Phil Harmonic and June Bug drive him home where he lives with Dana Point and Sherman Oaks.

..summer county..

what do you have in your sandwich
will it be butter or another spread
mum used to call it marg
all the ladies did
neighbours, her friends

stork for baking
another for everyday

i think she prefered summer county
on googling find this is so

now i have butter come more expensive
lately

i should not really with the fatness
and animal connection

it does taste nice, salty

as did our tears yesterday

what are we like
all emotional in public
then who cares when we share
thoughts and disappointments

the donuts were nice
inelegant to eat

is it home made bread
white or brown, rustic?

i enjoy ideas from others
they open up new possibities

i am changing things
in layers
starting with those things under
neath

an easier day today
at home to clear
hedge trimmings
to gather logs and
ideas too

go well my friend

7.21
yes later today
birds at the window

yes we had marg or dripping
and when there was butter
for a treat there was no jam
on top, nor honeywe had to eat the bread bit before
we got cake
or tinned fruit with carnation
milk
in those days

i bought butter as a friend was visiting
with buns

he watched while i spread it and remarked
that then there were local shops
so i says yes
corner shops

he frowned
and i says
well where i lived
they were mostly
on corners

we ate the buns nicely
with just the right amount
of currants
or are they raisins
in buns?

later the sun was out
and i rakes up the fallen
twigs and stuff and noted
that the council had not
taken the ******* from
last week

anyhows sometimes
while writing like you
thoughts drift into mind

days in lampeter
where we feel secure

and other stuff

birds already singing
6.20 am

small

looking at the old bananas here yesterday
decided to make cake
rather than waste them

looks for a recipe
oh yes that will
do with oil

so **** the mashed bananas in the bowl
three with equal eggs
to find i have no oil

another recipe with margarine
when i only have spread…..ok

oh no, it states only
2 bananas
2 eggs

too late

this one is in metric
my scales are in imperial

another recipe
by then is all in the bowl

when i reads to cream the marg and sugar
too late i just bash the lot together and throw
in sultanas for luck

with the big silver spoon

lucky me

my oven is hot electric fan
the book goes gas, so guessing

works and that thing with a knitting needle

all came good, my first cake to eat for ten weeks
buns don’t count in this house

first cake made for years
to adhere to lockdown urban rules

ate with cream of course
then carried on with ladders

there was a storm in the night
water seeped through the bathroom
roof light
soaked the tissue

it is drying out on the radiator

james

no planes yesterday