Gold Star for Robot Boy ~ Tuesday, June 30, 2020

A bus driver and a seamstress enter 

briskly into a pub and leave with eight 

unexplained children of their own, to note 

seven of the children were boys, and one, 

despite hardships, became Mayor of London, 

rivers of blood, no metaphor, were seen 

in flight from India to Pakistan, 

virtually unthinkable in our time, 

except his grandparents witnessed horror, 

remember Partition as migration, 

a time of bitter animosity, 

nothing made sense, get to the other side, 

defenseless people murdered by neglect, 

as snafus go, this one was all fucked up, 

situation normal, anything but, 

even the Viceroy rushed Independence 

as a way to avoid a civil war, 

murder, rape, and bloodshed sewn the book shut, 

serving as Governor-general, he 

took leave on the solstice of the next year, 

reckless in the process of migration, 

even he knew tensions would make shambles 

serving no one better than death itself, 

stick in the mud with Gold Stick-in-Waiting, 

enter Radcliffe, the man who drew borders, 

no intimate knowledge of India, 

trust in ignorance to get the job done, 

even if it cost two hundred thousand 

residents their lives, we have our countries. 

A Partition: Tooting, South London ~ Tuesday, June 30, 2020

As a Goan of South Asian descent, 

some people take note of a certain date, 

a date like August 15: Partition. 

Given your submission period starts 

on this date and ends on April 1, known 

as April Fools Day to pranksters worldwide, 

no one will mind if I find it funny, 

of course, not funny ha-ha, but funny 

for the fact that people don't have a clue. 

Simply put, the British made a good joke 

of leaving India and Pakistan, 

under the auspices of their good will, 

the British have no good will, no good faith, 

how they start wars they cannot even end? 

Asians from the Subcontinent take note, 

stupidity in government is not 

ignorance but willful neglect, a slap 

across the face, with nearly two million 

needlessly dead, the numbers could be less, 

difficult to make a joke of the dead, 

even though the British did 

such a good job of making a shambles, 

certain people wonder how South Asians 

enter into British politics with 

no sense of irony, well, not unlike 

the Mayor of London, Sadiq Aman Khan. 

Bedeviled: Me and the Devil Blues ~ Tuesday, June 30, 2020

The Devil and I sat down for coffee, 

he was well-dressed in a dark, pinstriped suit, 

even he drank his coffee black, no cream. 

Despite the fact we met at the counter, 

eager to meet a new recruit, he asked, 

virtually begging me to join him, 

it meant nothing to me, the Devil, ha! 

literally, he was but a fiction, 

a character in a Russian novel, 

name changed to Woland, but the same trickster, 

despite his offer, I had to decline. 

I whispered in the Devil's pointed ear, "I love your eggs." 

A Birdcage ~ Monday, June 29, 2020

To build a bower around a birdcage 

over a rooftop deep within Chennai 

birds come to feed on rice that's all the rage 

under an open sky, he sets the stage 

in the morning, he wakes and boils some chai, 

living alone...this life in a birdcage, 

descending from the sky, parakeets gauge 

approximately where to land, to fly, 

bolting away before others enrage 

old feuds between parakeets, some engage 

working their way in, the world to defy, 

even while others wait in their birdcage, 

reminders how people in war must wage 

a campaign against hunger, lest they die, 

resulting from famine, to provoke rage 

on such a wide scale, Sekar must assuage 

underfed parakeets before they banzai 

nosedive into rice, overwrought with rage, 

despite their drama, this is our birdcage. 

~~~

India’s ‘Birdman’ Feeds 4,000 Parakeets A Day 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2F1wkCFCqd4

"Dies ist mein Geburtstagsgeschenk" ~ Sunday, June 28, 2020

"Don't trust anyone over 30" ~ Jack Weinberg 

~~~

Today is my birthday, 

only I am too old, 

despite its importance, 

as I am a touch gray, 

yet, everyday is gold 

if you know how to dance, 

some pretend to ignore 

milestones, too bored to care, 

yet, they are too busy, 

bored with the world, they bore,  

in turn, everyone near, 

remind them, life is dear, 

tell them it is precious, 

how they prefer steak rare, 

determined to pity 

anyone suspicious, 

yet, I am just that old. 

~~~

"German Song" 

from Don't Bury Me in Haiti 

by Neighborhood Texture Jam (Ardent Music LLC, 1993) 

https://youtu.be/BiPCqW33bWY

Poetry Magazine ~ Friday, June 26, 2020

To build a bower but not a birdcage, 

obviously, Daedalus must rethink, 

burdened with guilt after Icarus fell 

under the eyes of all the gods, hopeless, 

imaginary deities, lifeless, 

lurking within the labyrinth, our boy, 

drama unfolds, a hero must destroy 

a monster, a deformed creature at birth, 

born with a head with horns, call Guinness Book 

of World Records, call Barnum and Bailey, 

wonders never cease, imprison the boy, 

even if he never harms a person, 

remember, we live in a monstrous world, 

bring us the head of the Minotaur now, 

ugly, it was only a little boy, 

to say he appeared not unlike a bull, 

note, Greek Mythology is but bullshit, 

ontologically, the true genesis 

taken into account of a small boy, 

a child deformed from birth, called a monster, 

bullshit artists like A. E. Stallings* write 

insulting ideas we call poetry, 

remember, a twisted mind requires truth, 

demonstrate for the world, the artifice, 

create as a poet, a Creator, 

ask Poetry to bend over for May, 

given 2020 is total crap, 

even Daedalus grieves over both sons. 

~~~

*https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/153195/daedal

An Atheist's Pledge ~ Wednesday, June 24, 2020

No one chooses their birth parents, 

only this body is our gift, 

our present without conditions, 

no one chooses the skin they're in, 

enter prison or paradise, 

consider the body a gift, 

how you offer it to the world, 

only you decide its function, 

only you decide its value, 

sever your thoughts of the body, 

enlist your mind to inhabit 

skin, no matter the shade you're in, 

treat your body with acceptance, 

however you feel about it, 

even if others disparage, 

insult, belittle your body, 

remember it is your present, 

brace yourself against ignorance, 

indeed your own and from others, 

remember we're all on the path, 

trailing behind or up ahead, 

humbly lost within a forest, 

partake of this great adventure, 

as you come to understand truth, 

reside in the House of the Lord, 

enter the world as gifts from God, 

no one can harm your inner light, 

treat this gift from God with wisdom, 

still, you will make mistakes and grow...

observe the world as the body, 

nothing reflects the mind like mind, 

like a pool reflects an image, 

yet the mind reflects only mind, 

take a moment to consider 

how mind inhabits the body, 

in this same way, body enters 

separate from nothing it sees, 

breathe in the stench of our vast world, 

only atop a mountain peak 

does the air smell crisp, purified, 

yet, nowhere can we find fresh air, 

inherit the earth as a gift, 

still, we must care for this treasure, 

only our attitudes reflect 

understanding of this compact, 

remember, make a covenant, 

grant this earth your solemn duty, 

in this, we make a pact with God, 

for we are here on this planet 

to reflect His Will and Goodness. 

Iconoclastic Permutations ~ Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Celebrating arbitrary givens, 

even before your parents conceived you, 

luminous clarity preceded life, 

even if we forget and privilege form, 

bullshit entitlement to deception, 

remember what cannot be remembered, 

aspects of the real, attributes of light, 

to believe you are your body, your mind, 

insatiable hunger for the banal 

nightmares of separation, distinction, 

give me a break, light is nothing but light, 

as we pour water into a river 

remember where you came from before life, 

bullshit lies we've been told since we were small, 

if you cannot vomit these conceptions, 

taking what is good and leaving the rest, 

remembering the unmemorable 

as we uncover hidden histories, 

remind yourself you are more than your self, 

yet we forget we are before language, 

give me a chance to destroy your false sense 

in language conferred with self-righteous words, 

vindicating their representation, 

even as they preach their hypocrisy, 

needlessly practicing not what they preach, 

slip me this declaration, it burns well. 

Luminous Clarity ~ Monday, June 22, 2020

At the end of the universe, 

the observable universe, 

the invisible universe,  

haunted by darkness, cold and death, 

emits an inaudible noise, 

enter this realm to discover 

nothing but darkness, cold and death, 

distances immeasurable, 

only you run into a wall, 

foreign and impenetrable, 

there you find a long corridor, 

hovering nowhere in the dark, 

enter inside to find a door, 

upon entering the doorway 

nothing impedes your exiting 

invisible darkness, cold, death, 

vision obscured, sound diminished, 

everything you thought real erased, 

replaced by light and clarity, 

still you have the choice to return, 

exit truth, enter whence you came. 

The observable universe 

has all the answers to questions, 

enter clear light, problems dissolve, 

only you find the corridor 

becomes cold and uninviting, 

subtle understanding takes place, 

entering this space beyond thought, 

resting your mind for once in truth, 

vision and language no longer 

assess the real with eyes and ears, 

before language and awareness 

luminous clarity guides you, 

enter and exit as you please, 

unfolding beyond the light show, 

no new images entertain, 

information becomes pointless, 

venturing in ten directions, 

even if you could clear your mind, 

rest does not come until you reach 

stillness, deep within outer space, 

enter the door to see within. 

The invisible universe 

hovers in darkness, cold and death, 

encircling our own universe, 

inside the invisible realm, 

nothing beyond is visible, 

vision requires a source of light, 

in our universe, the light show, 

stars, constellations, galaxies 

in this realm, we observe by sight, 

blindness invokes the inner realm, 

literally, darkness within, 

emitting photons of reason, 

until we understand how mind 

naturally mimics the known, 

intelligible universe, 

veritably imagining 

exactly how the realm beyond 

reason, beyond thought, beyond light, 

still, while in motion, visible 

even to the blind while in flight. 

Haunted by darkness, cold and death, 

atherosclerosis hardens 

untreated arterial walls, 

niggling, worrisome diseases 

temper the wayward animal, 

every astronaut's worst nightmare, 

darkness within the body hides 

bigger undiagnosed problems, 

yet, until you turn sixty-five...

darkness in the universe builds 

arterial walls full of plaque, 

remember memories remain, 

kings to remorse, regret, and loss, 

no one forgets painful mistakes, 

except from a head injury, 

silence lingers over decades, 

still, there is a need to break through, 

cold and death await astronauts, 

on their journeys to the unknown, 

leaving the last supercluster, 

drifting deep into outer space 

and the last vestiges of light, 

nothing beyond this point is known, 

dimensions breakdown for the blind, 

death by atherosclerosis, 

everything becomes relative, 

as the body mimics deep space, 

the possibility of life 
haunted by a universe that... 

...emits an inaudible noise, 

measure the distance end to end, 

if the universe knows no bounds 

then how do you hear the soundless 

sirens call beckoning your craft, 

as you approach the end of space, 

nothing forewarned you of your doom, 

inaudible, a dog's whistle 

not even a shepherd could hear, 

as invisible as the wind, 

unseen, unheard, the clarity 

deep in your mind, beyond all time 

invokes you to travel deep space, 

beyond the universe, witness 

luminosity within mind, 

enter luminous clarity, 

noiseless, perfectly still, silent, 

outside the universe is light, 

inside our minds, light within light, 

suddenly you become aware, 

endlessly aware, before time. 

Mark the Impenetrable Wall ~ Tuesday, June 23, 2020

...emits an inaudible noise, 

measure the distance end to end, 

if the universe knows no bounds 

then how do you hear the soundless 

sirens call beckoning your craft, 

as you approach the end of space, 

nothing forewarned you of your doom, 

inaudible, a dog's whistle 

not even a shepherd could hear, 

as invisible as the wind, 

unseen, unheard, the clarity 

deep in your mind, beyond all time 

invokes you to travel deep space, 

beyond the universe, witness 

luminosity within mind, 

enter luminous clarity, 

noiseless, perfectly still, silent, 

outside the universe is light, 

inside our minds, light within light, 

suddenly you become aware, 

endlessly aware, before time. 

Mark the Impenetrable Wall ~ Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Haunted by darkness, cold and death, 

atherosclerosis hardens 

untreated arterial walls, 

niggling, worrisome diseases 

temper the wayward animal, 

every astronaut's worst nightmare, 

darkness within the body hides 

bigger undiagnosed problems, 

yet, until you turn sixty-five...

darkness in the universe builds 

arterial walls full of plaque, 

remember memories remain, 

kings to remorse, regret, and loss, 

no one forgets painful mistakes, 

except from a head injury, 

silence lingers over decades, 

still, there is a need to break through, 

cold and death await astronauts, 

on their journeys to the unknown, 

leaving the last supercluster, 

drifting deep into outer space 

and the last vestiges of light, 

nothing beyond this point is known, 

dimensions breakdown for the blind, 

death by atherosclerosis, 

everything becomes relative, 

as the body mimics deep space, 

the possibility of life 

haunted by a universe that... 

Mark the Impenetrable Wall ~ Monday, June 22, 2020

The invisible universe 

hovers in darkness, cold and death, 

encircling our own universe, 

inside the invisible realm, 

nothing beyond is visible, 

vision requires a source of light, 

in our universe, the light show, 

stars, constellations, galaxies 

in this realm, we observe by sight, 

blindness invokes the inner realm, 

literally, darkness within, 

emitting photons of reason, 

until we understand how mind 

naturally mimics the known, 

intelligible universe, 

veritably imagining 

exactly how the realm beyond 

reason, beyond thought, beyond light, 

still, while in motion, visible 

even to the blind while in flight. 

The Raven Beauty ~ Saturday, June 20, 2020

Fireworks keep the kooks nailed on tenterhooks 

inside the asylum in cloistered cells, 

riddled with worry, fear and trembling hands, 

even the queen kept her nose in her books, 

worried not for herself or the others, 

only for the caretaker of the bells, 

religion plays no part in waving wands, 

kindling in the storage cellar may yet 

set the house ablaze with all the brothers, 

kind words the queen uncovers, once her own, 

even she cannot remember she wrote 

engagingly to save lost souls, a bone 

picked up out of a field, ancient, a note 

touchingly etched to the surface, a bet 

humorously played between two chieftains, 

even her scholarship drifts with the fog, 

kin against kin, king against king, the land 

objects to men calling it property, 

only trees, rivers and glades understand, 

kings of prehistory write poetry 

simply to impress the wives of their men, 

no one knows why they wrote in quatorzains, 

as six follows eight, though seven ate nine, 

in terms of mathematics, the sequence 

leaves five off the hook, the mad tenterhooks 

even the residents never discuss, 

diminish fog with smoke to produce smog, 

on her bed, in her room, a broken spine, 

not her own, but the baseline for her books, 

the kings of yore never had time to fuss, 

even for a moment, over the dense 

nostalgia for their time, they wrote for Gwen, 

to her knowledge, she could not understand, 

ever the prize of kings on battlefields, 

restless, her locks, represented on shields, 

harmlessly portrayed as an octopus, 

on one shield, red, on the other shield, black, 

only her locks were white, looped into rings, 

knowledge escaped the queen of the cloisters, 

still her books made her the queen of the kooks. 

Mark the Impenetrable Wall ~ Thursday, June 18, 2020

The observable universe 

has all the answers to questions, 

enter clear light, problems dissolve, 

only you find the corridor 

becomes cold and uninviting, 

subtle understanding takes place, 

entering this space beyond thought, 

resting your mind for once in truth, 

vision and language no longer 

assess the real with eyes and ears, 

before language and awareness 

luminous clarity guides you, 

enter and exit as you please, 

unfolding beyond the light show, 

no new images entertain, 

information becomes pointless, 

venturing in ten directions, 

even if you could clear your mind, 

rest does not come until you reach 

stillness, deep within outer space, 

enter the door to see within. 

On Black Mountain ~ Monday, June 15, 2020

In a ghost cave within a black mountain, 

nothing remains for long, save a sad howl, 

as wolves long departed this area, 

given how the wind blows across a pole, 

how else to explain this doleful, loud cry, 

on Black Mountain, no animals reside, 

still the sound comes directly from the cave, 

two men ascended never to return, 

climbers found the bodies before the mouth, 

anguished expressions across their faces, 

vacant stares into the darkness within, 

every child in the valley knows these men, 

widows wept at the loss of their husbands, 

inside the cave, the climbers found a boy, 

thought dead for centuries, they brought him down, 

how he survived for so long, no one knows, 

if he could speak perhaps he could explain, 

no one knows how he got inside the cave, 

angry mobs in the valley wanted blood, 

burn the boy against a stake for witchcraft, 

little did the climbers know what to do 

as their own lives were in danger, two men 

climbed the onyx face, teachers of the land, 

killed by a boy within a cave whose howl 

makes blood-curdling cries of warriors sound 

ordinary, common, quotidian, 

understanding the needs of the people, 

no one could stop their terrible vengeance, 

tied to the stake, the boy wept and he howled, 

as the noise swept over the crowd, they fell 

in unison onto their knees in prayer, 

no one knows why the boy was made a saint. 

The Nine ~ Saturday, June 13, 2020

I am a Person of Color. Honor. 

I am a Son of Immigrants. Respect. 

I am a Foreigner. Understanding. 

Three Guides: Honor, Respect, Understanding.

Abide. Or Face Certain Consequences. 

Mark the Impenetrable Wall ~ Wednesday, June 10, 2020

At the end of the universe, 

the observable universe, 

the invisible universe,  

haunted by darkness, cold and death, 

emits an inaudible noise, 

enter this realm to discover 

nothing but darkness, cold and death, 

distances immeasurable, 

only you run into a wall, 

foreign and impenetrable, 

there you find a long corridor, 

hovering nowhere in the dark, 

enter inside to find a door, 

upon entering the doorway 

nothing impedes your exiting 

invisible darkness, cold, death, 

vision obscured, sound diminished, 

everything you thought real erased, 

replaced by light and clarity, 

still you have the choice to return, 

exit truth, enter whence you came. 

動物 (dòngwù) ~ Thursday, June 4, 2020

Chinese aphrodisiac eel 

exotically cultivated 

rewards receptors improving 

profound undisturbed sleep...

                                                      rouse it! 

Apostolic Apostasy ~ Tuesday, June 2, 2020

The Catholic Church taught me many things, how to rebel, what to rebel against, engraved on a plaque: The Ten Commandments. 

Certainty acts upon self-righteousness as a tool of erroneous beliefs, to transform the world in one's own image, how Godlike, yet, how unlike God, Himself, open minds see the world without judgment, let things be in themselves, categories inscribe a false sense of order, control, creating systems of justice, defy. Conditioned by structures outside myself, how to think, what to believe, how to act, under such conditions, sensitive minds rebel against, or revolutionize created structures of former glory, how they oppressed and enslaved the whole world, 

teaching us how to behave before fire, as if to cower before punishment, under penalty of death or torture, gave them the right to rule with such hatred, hatred came in the form of a closed mind, trapped in the rhetoric of violence made them invincible, superhuman, 

exacting vengeance as if they were God, 

murder, rape, war in the name of the Church, as power and wealth overwhelms feeble minds, noble creatures inhabit new spaces yet conceived by the murderous tribesmen, 

tranquil in mind, silent of heart, courage holds other entities accountable, in defiance of a false sense of law, no one can contradict noble spirits, given the force of argument to fight systems based on erroneous judgment. 

Graven Images Inscribed in My Mind ~ Monday, June 1, 2020

Death comes for the best and the worst of us, all and sundry, no matter who or when. "I'm sorry, it isn't an opportune time right now;  come again sometime later." That won't fly in the face of death. The acts of funeral workers are never done. To think you or your loved ones cannot die is indulgent, childish imaginings. We are all susceptible to disease. The black armbands are rarely ever worn any longer, so many touched by death so often feel the weight of the angel on their shoulder, more a constant burden than a goad to do the right thing in life. 

The fallen angel burns through our shoulder, the other shoulder, the sinister one, down deep into our torso, our entrails, until we are infected by disease, by double pneumonia, or by cancer in our liver, or in our pancreas, a true death sentence to fight to the end for pardon, for clemency, or escape, but the warden and the governor know, they have your case files, your oncologist watches, hovering above your body, or is that your soul looking down on you, on the gurney, or cold on the morgue slab. Death waits for no one, no opportune time. Death is the dark angel with blackened wings, the boy that flies toward the sun, only to fall into the sea and drown, skull crushed upon impact from such a height, the force of gravity, so weak, yet important. Death is not our friend, but provides an end, welcome or otherwise, appreciate the fleeting beauty of this life of love and sorrow, of pain and loss, agony and the scent of bitter almonds, no peace is found in death, only the deception that death offers peace within this lifetime. 

Peace is the strength found within fortitude, within struggle with life and not with death. Grit, perseverance, focus, drive and will lead a person to stumble upon peace, as if upon a quiet stream, a brook out of nowhere appears for a moment, the ephemeral nature of this life will not allow for ease beside this brook for long, the candle must be extinguished, this life must come to an end at some point, anytime death desires, the weight of smoke is our memorial everlasting in the minds of loved ones until their death, or until books of history crumble from age, from lack of use, mortality opens the pages only to slumber like a cat, when and where it so chooses, our immortality, an illusion, the face in the mirror that appears real, everlasting, but changes everyday, so our former self dies in each moment, changes as our bodies age, until death. 

Death is our mythology against time. Nothing is known beyond this one lifetime, the afterlife, a mystery cloaked in a veil of imaginary deceit; if it exists, then where, how, whither God, the angels, heaven, hell and the devil? We live for time, in time, rarely on time. Perhaps only for our own funeral. We say we will sleep when we're dead, how true! And yet, so false, our bodies decompose, we return to matter, we sleep no more. We return to the earth, a bag of bones. 

Glorified Minions ~ Monday, June 1, 2020

I was born in the summer of 19--, fifty years, to the day, after the Treaty of Versailles. Twenty-two days later, we would land on the moon. Except, since I was born in Bombay, India, not yet an American citizen, I didn't know then that we were on the same team. Of course, I didn't know a thing back then, but "Thank God for the Internet!" Armchair historians can figure out their place as figures in an endless chain of mediocrity. Because research bores everyone to death, and if you can't tell a story, or you have no personal agenda, no political axe to grind, you might as well pretend you are important in some way as an infinitesimal mote of cosmic dust, or dandruff from the head of a-yet-to-be-seen eternal God, Creator of all things seen and unseen. Of course you matter, you bloody halfwit! Welcome to your humanity! You have less than a hundred and thirty years to solve the problems for all mankind, or drink yourself silly trying to think you have a chance to make your mark in history. Like I said earlier, I was born on June 28th, under the constellation of Cancer. 

Roughly, one hundred and one years ago, the powers that be set in motion the conditions to start another war in roughly twenty years, after the war to end all wars failed to achieve a lasting peace. World War II would last six full years, from a declaration of war to a formal ceremony of surrender. But none of this has anything to do with my own unfortunate existence. That my parents were born on the same date, one year apart, two and three years, respectively, before the powers that be waged total war, still means nothing, as my father was born in Nairobi, Kenya, and my mother was born in Goa, India, under the constellation of Sagittarius, the Archer, one year apart, my father first, my mother next. Her family was in Nairobi and shipped my grandmother back home, to our so-called homeland, where the illustrious feni drinkers waste their lives or travel abroad to promulgate the gospel of feni. Feni is not worth discussing, much less writing at length about, or imbibing. The less said, the better off the reader. So, the west coast of India, and the east coast of Africa, not really hot spots during World War II, other than both are near the equator, but not much fighting in battle unless between fishermen and a fish or two. 

As you could guess, or deduce by logic, I turned 51 at the end of June, during the COVID-19 pandemic. Summer started early with civil rights protests in the major cities across America. The President couldn't care less unless it would help him to get reelected. The whole world was on fire, but as long as he could play golf... But discussing the President is a lot like discussing the merits of distilling feni, not worthwhile in the least, unless you like taking easy potshots at sitting ducks, or hopefully, just one lame duck. Sort of like living through the Reagan Years, waiting for the absurdity to end. The yoke of conservatism never appears to the donkey. So, I stayed home, unemployed, on furlough, waiting for normalcy to resume. Summer murders in Chicago, looting and wanton destruction of property, multiple music festivals, and spending time on the Lakefront, or the smells of local cookouts, picnics in the park with the Chosen Few deejays, or Ronda and Koko's House Music pub crawl with chartered buses, the pendulum of fun and games swung back and forth daily. The Promontory would not throw parties until the coronavirus pandemic disappeared. That was where I worked once, part of a crew, a team who put together concerts and parties. We walked the walk and talked the talk. I was blessed to work there. Somehow I fit in and was accepted at the nightclub which was ninety percent black clientele. Hip to the hop!