Tuesday, August 31, 2021

Am I Not a Christian? ~ Tuesday, August 31, 2021

When I feel no one cares, the world full of people too busy to notice

How some people struggle more than the rest, like fish wriggling, hooks in their mouths

Eventually, we're caught, tossed inside a bucket to be gutted later

No one seems to notice when one of us slides down out of sight, out of mind

I walk past the homeless without a dime to spare and offer them some cash

Foreigners are nothing to us Americans but threats to our egos

Even if I was born far away in Bombay, nobody notices

Even though they still ask, "Where do you come from, son?" Keeping me at arms length

Little can I do now but clean up after them, the drunk party-goers

Not that it's not my job, cleaning up their vomit, the privilege I must feel

Only I never learned my ancestors language, just English, French, Russian...

Oblige me my sorrow, I've been homeless and mad, lost down a spiral shaft

Never mind the stigma of becoming unwell, mentally unhealthy

Even though I did drugs to escape the madness of walking on eggshells

Call it what you so choose, accountability, consequences, sorrow

As soon as depression lifts, the emotions rush like a raging river

Rapids are a challenge to navigate alone. I've gotten used to it

Even if the beatings weren't as bad as others experience, trauma

Shakes my world, an earthquake is nothing to someone from California, no

To say that no one cares may sound harsh but really a bandage won't help much

How everyone suffers and yet cannot but kick when somebody goes down

Even boxing has rules, but outside the bright lights people have their own rules

When someone is broken, their pain cannot be fixed like a broken window

Ordinary people don't get involved, don't ask, only see the problem

Really, not the problem but the effects of things sliding out of control

Landscape architecture knows not to build a house on the edge of a cliff

Despite all the warnings, people do what they want, watching landslides occur

Foolish is the wise man, we, Homo sapiens, living just as we please

Ugly, dirty beggars mix with Hollywood stars on the set of Sunset

Liberty and justice for all, we made a pledge as children, citizens

Lift the veil of madness to find everyone sick from moment to moment

Only we persecute the homeless, the insane, and criminals alike

Foreigners get to clean up after everyone else, the party people

Perhaps I never find a career to fulfill my goals in this lifetime

Ever feel like a ball of crumpled white paper thrown in a waste basket

Ordinary people to a foreign-born child made me feel exotic

Perhaps as a stranger in a strange land, I felt sensitive to their words

Little kids cannot know everyone is broken and cause others distress

Even the most healthy may cause intentional harm with good intentions

Tranquil, I study life, I may just lose my cool and act an idiot

Of course, I am broken, a raging maniac suppressed by repression

Order over chaos, or we all become pawns of our own emotions

Bitter and beleaguered, I can get nothing done, nothing to pay the bills

Until I work full-time again, I can't retire or go on vacation

Slide down a spiral shaft, never again to see the light of day, the sun

Yelp like a dog for help after an accident, getting hit by a car

To say people care more for stray cats than people, am I not a Christian

Obliged to get along, I never learned how fun it could be to make waves

No one sees the problems, only the effects last for decades without end

Obtain the right vision, context and perspective, architecture unfolds

To imagine a world where nobody suffered distress from their actions

Is to point down the well, deep down the spiral shaft, a black hole of darkness

Create a better world, solve the problems before we notice the effects

Exactly when these words climb out of the dark well, I, too, will find success

Thursday, August 26, 2021

Ricochet ~ Thursday, August 26, 2021

All smiles and teeth, clueless, they enter the nightclub where I work box office

Literally, they cute as stuffed animals but the whole world is on fire

Lightning strikes from above hits a rock, ricochet, sets a forest alight

Sugar is sweet, the world stupid as saccharine, no one gonna listen

Maybe they be too smart, too fast for the lightning strikes them dead in their tracks

If this world means nothing to anyone, okay, party until you dead

Left for dead friends party on my grave in my wake, even a tsunami

Ends nothing, they party, clueless to any threats to their stupidity

Suffering is nothing to the party people, vomit, they miss the mark

Abandoned of all hope, the sky falls, the floods come, water rises, cars float

Narcissistic nodding to the rhythm, downbeat, of the music, hip-hop

Damned if they do, damned if they don't, so they party until the devil comes

To hell or high water, demonic minions drag like queens down the catwalk

Elegant pussy boys, crushed to look like women in fashion magazines

Endlessly search the sky for answers from the stars, all I see are comets

Trash, cosmic dust, debris, detritus falls to earth, meteorites destroy

Humanity, instant karma, Lennon is dead, shot by both sides, Chapman

Catcher in the rye rots ergot to the witch trials, a rebellious jukebox

Learns better to spin discs, to scratch vinyl, to tweak and twerk on the dancefloor

Undulating asses entice the gods to play, to bray like a donkey

Energy balances on a teeter-totter equation to matter

Lopsided, the fulcrum lifts nothing on the scales, the magic disappears

Egotistical brats throw shade, feather pillows, full of public contempt

Shadows and reflections of temporality, our perceptions dispel

Scattered disco ball light, I'm a shattered, shattered, Charlie Watts, rest in peace

The end of an era, the little drummer boy plays "Taps" for the soldiers

How long Miles been dead now, Selim Sivad blows horn while the dead awaken

Ennobled by Legion, we are many, for swine drown in the sea, Jesus

Yesterday, I woke up to screaming children, God, their lungs unfilled with smoke

Engage disengagement, elevate the masses, educate the rabble

Nothing of importance sails port to port, on ships for the Inquisition

Tranquility base lands marvelous on the moon while Buzz and Neil bouncing

Entertain the masses around the globe, decades later we still bouncing

Remember, I was born in Bombay, twenty-three days before they landed

Tranquility after the Stonewall Uprising at the Inn in Greenwich

Humble pie, the police could not serve nor protect, so they simply ate crow

Emerging markets prove the value of body cameras to document

Necessity reveals the puzzle still unsolved, are they necessary

I watch as the watchmen change roles, "serve and protect" the most recent motto

Genesis uncertain, the when, where, why, and how, simply approximate

Hold the tantō, short sword, of blind hypocrisy, a game of seppuku

Translate a suicide by citizen police to social media

Carry the torch for whom, for fallen officers or for people they kill

Lash out in ignorance at culpability painted in black and white

Underneath the facade, a cracked surface, damaged by years of corruption

Burn both ends late at night reading old documents trying to see beyond

Will wonders never cease, will fiction become real, will we deny the truth

Haunted by phantasms, by phantoms and ghosts, truth hides within a nightmare

Every good parent checks underneath their child's bed, or inside her closet

Remember this, I know nothing about the truth, I am not a parent

Even philosophers denied the poet's words as beautiful mischief

I digress to cover the sky with clouds of thought blown slowly by the wind

Work is not fun and games, even in a nightclub, the repetition grinds

Ordinary people seek extraordinary experience in dreams

Remember, I was born in India, a man of South Asian descent

Kiss the air of both cheeks like the French sniff their bread on both sides of the boule

Boredom overcomes time, killing with ritual exactitude the blade

Ordinary people observe the gapers block, they rubberneck the scene

Xenophobia plays with stereotypes checked at the door, on my sleeve

Ordinary people joke around to scope out the fresh meat they perceive

Four lions yawn, the kill too scrawny for the chase, a leopard licks her chops

Forget racial difference, forge a link to the now, the person before me

In this moment, I see cosmic dust in your eyes, the veil of hidden truth

Concern for your welfare and all our survival is of prime importance

Enter wearing a mask, the pandemic persists, the Delta variant

Thursday, August 19, 2021

At the Bottom of the Dungheap ~ Thursday, August 19, 2021

To make a choice in war, the right side, the wrong side, only history knows.

Or is it a matter of conscience? Of the soul? Ethics, morality?

Mark my words. History knows nothing of the past. We rewrite the future.

Arguments pro and con decide nothing but words and how we use language.

Killing time. Killing flies. How do we spend our time? Honestly, burning files.

Evidently, the past gets reinterpreted every time parties shift.

Arguments pro and con decide nothing but words and how we use language.

Conscience is a matter of individual decision-making skills.

History knows nothing of the soul, of conscience. But to decide what's best.

Obscured in the present by fog, by mist, by tears. The past remains hidden.

Indoctrination is not a choice but a web of superstitious lies.

Clearly, no one knows how historians obscure time with their agendas.

Evidently, the past gets reinterpreted every time ideas shift.

Interpreting the past is ideology. The dominant structure.

No one knows why we kill the enemy in war and drink in times of peace.

Women and men decide morality to teach their children the right way.

Arguments pro and con decide nothing but words and how we use language.

Reason sifts through the past, events to catalog, righteous or infamous.

Tomorrow, I wake up, write another poem contradicting this one.

Honesty is the best policy, as they say. We believe in such lies.

Evidently, war knows nothing of the future. Assumptions for Balaam.

Reason sifts through the past, events to catalog, righteous or infamous.

Inventing history is for our survival. Each person must decide.

Given the expertise of each historian in policy-making.

Humanity must choose whom to kill during war. Who is my enemy?

Trust neither right nor left. Extremes create bias. Everyone bears witness.

Sinister, the Southpaw with a killer right hook. The boxer knows torture.

In our uncertainty, we overcome anguish produced by past trauma.

Decision-making is an art, fortune telling as prognostication.

Evidently, the past opens up to the sky. Souls fly into the light.

Trauma is not torture but a maturation process. Events ripen.

History unveils truth as a four-fold structure in the tree of knowledge.

Evidently, the past became anathema to the values of truth.

Witness the creation of the book industry and the death of ethics.

Religion has a say in what people believe is good, moral and true.

Observe the printing press reinvent history and criminal justice.

Notice how corruption is a slippery slope like black strap molasses.

Given the enterprise of judgment and systems of slavery, who wins?

Systems are difficult to observe their functions with moral agreement.

If the majority ruling class has no checks to balance their ethics.

Decisions create war. How are we not bored, yet? Why this fascination?

Evidently, war is profit and big business like global slavery.

Observe the lawmakers lining up to be shot in a revolution.

Nervous, trigger-happy soldiers armed with machine guns shoot legislators.

Lawyers, the first to die in a revolution. But not a rebellion.

Yesterday, I woke up and decided to write about Afghanistan.

Hungry to understand why the dominoes fall in global politics.

Invent technology to subvert history as a global arms race.

Struggle invites struggle, solutions to problems, singular for each soul.

Transient is the man digging through garbage cans for food and drink to live.

Observe the newspapers feed us information about global problems.

Resolve to imagine a world without bloodshed, without war, without fear.

Yesterday, I woke up to write a short poem about love but I failed.

Killing time before death. Killing flies in our home. Domiciles are unreal.

No one questions the truth because facts and science ground our reality.

Observe authority abuse humanity because they have power.

Windows open and shut as eyelids blink and close to sleep for a moment.

Skilled in analysis, no one listens to words written by a poet.

Wednesday, August 18, 2021

The Patthu of Hyde Park ~ Wednesday, August 18, 2021

Do you have faith? In the unknown? In the uncertain facts? The unseen, the invisible?

Observe contradiction with a clear mind. Do not engage with mindless punditry.

Yellow journalism on social media. Stay calm. Do not engage. It is your choice.

Observe the sky, the clouds move steadily. What part does not reflect your mind?

Understanding, often misunderstood for selflessness, sees through an argument.

Hold the cereal bowl with both your hands in reverence to God hidden beyond the sky.

Arguments encompass both sides without ill-will or animosity to the godless masses.

Virtual in belief, unshaken, undisturbed, an easy life, unquestioned faith wavers.

Enter the cave, a metaphor for darkness, or the mind. The internal mechanism.

Forget the past, the incidents you remember, the harm others caused you.

At this moment, you are free. I absolve your sins. Your past mistakes. Blindness.

I am the Patthu of Hyde Park. I see past the dark hype. Beyond contradiction to God.

Tremble not before fear, before impermanence. Nothing lasts forever.

Hope lost. Defeated souls. Broken. The internal remains unshaken. Pulverized.

Thursday, August 12, 2021

Feathers ~ Thursday, August 12, 2021

Her failure to fulfill her promise to become a doctor, a lawyer or an economist since she was South Asian in the United States was a major letdown for her family and friends as they relied on her to make a good living, earn lots of accolades, and become a mother but she did none of that, instead she lost her mind and found God in wisdom, the wisdom of language, of words, of poetry within philosophy, she studied religions to help solve the problems of conflict management, she did this on her own, in a small apartment off a tiny paycheck cleaning other people's houses with a small team of strong Polish women, although she didn't speak Polish, she picked up words and phrases here and there, she got by with little more than her wits, courage and fortitude to grow as an artist of thoughts, an engineer of dreams, an architect of hope.

Do You Remember the First Time? ~ Thursday, August 12, 2021

Drunk! As a teenager nearly passed out kissing a stranger I just met.

Of course, we had the same birthday two years apart and I had just arrived.

Yes, I do remember like it was yesterday, even though, I was drunk.

Of course, I was with Scott and my brown pride brother, Sunil, we were the band.

Until she came to kiss my lips with my eyes shut, half-awake, half-asleep.

Resting in an armchair or deep in a sofa, I was lost to the world.

Even though we just met, she must have felt something, something I couldn't feel.

Maybe if I weren't drunk off a jug of cheap wine, I would have felt something.

Even though I was drunk, we went to a dark room where nothing happened, twice.

Maybe if I could see or feel below my waist, as we kissed in the dark.

Boy, did I feel stupid and grossly ignorant of what I could have done.

Even though I was drunk and we were on the floor for how long I don't know.

Right then and there, I felt inadequate failure as a breach of contract.

Then the guys had to leave, the party was over and we had to go home.

How she slipped her number into my hand and said, "Call me." I was shame-faced.

Even though, I couldn't perform for this woman, still, she wanted me, then.

For heaven's sake, I knew I would never call her...I was too embarrassed.

In years to come, we met again at a meeting for sex and love addicts.

Recovery was key for me back then before I plunged in the deep end.

Sex was never my thing, except when I was stoned, then I didn't notice.

Then, I felt in control of overwhelming thoughts and emotions, feelings.

Then, my first real girlfriend would play music, Bauhaus, on her vinyl player.

In that moment, back then, I didn't care a lick and lived for sex and love.

Maybe I never learned the right way to have fun, to make love with women.

Even though, the first time never comes round again, I remember her name.

Tuesday, August 10, 2021

Musings at 8 AM ~ Tuesday, August 10, 2021

For Rio...

What am I doing up this early on the train? People heading to work look all clean and pretty. I just finished my run so I probably stink since I ran all night long. My girlfriend would tell me I stink something horrid, but I ran, so I'm proud. A little, not really that much, it's no big deal, just 35 miles. Yeah.

Now I'm on the 6 bus, all the pretty people are gone. Salt of the earth. Southsiders don't care much how they appear in life, well, just not on the bus. They dress up for the club, for dinner and a show, or dancing all night long. Just not the CTA. No one gives a rat's ass. Where did that phrase come from? I wonder about words and language now and then. I studied languages. 

No one cares about that, not on the bus, for sure. They just care if you stink. Not as a real person, just your body odor, but they don't say nothing. Usually, they polite, people on the South Side, unless they just be loud. Confrontational. Yeah. For no good reason. Yeah. Maybe they pre-game drunk. Or they always that way. Not sure. Maybe screw loose upstairs inside their head. 

Some folks got no filter. Others have no manners. I'm no better really. That's why I live in Hell. I run north from Hyde Park to Evanston, you see. I'd never run down south if I lived way up there, it's ugly-dirty here. The University of Chicago owns all the property down here. Stupid, I know, but yeah, there it is, idiots own it all, do nothing. Southside in a nutshell. Welcome to Chicago. No one gives a rat's ass. Is that an indictment? I wish it were, but no. That's the subjunctive case. No one recognizes a conditional clause. Chicago ignorant. Again, nobody cares a lick unless they're rich. Then they pretend real well. But that's nothing on me. They don't reflect my mind. 

Well, that's enough trouble for now, the FBI probably got a file. What do I care? I'm poor. I was born in Bombay. To them, I'm freaking rich. Rich in spirit. Not cash. Not capital per se. Maybe one day. Not now.

Monday, August 9, 2021

First Day of Class ~ Monday, August 9, 2021

"To let be be and not be not be; that is all," she said. "After Parmenides...," the professor added. "If you don't understand now you may never know the truth when you hear it spoken." She stood at the front of the class full of empty, vacant, overwhelmed eyes. She knew what it was like sitting there lost in a classroom before meeting with the goddess of the proem.

"The law is not philosophy, but truth resides in both. One as knowledge and the other as opinion. Which is which is for you to figure out." Then she opined, "But this is not a game, a language game, based on meaning and semantics but a struggle for justice and order." She began, "The world is full of brave men and madmen and you must choose to navigate accordingly."

"To reiterate from the start...as from experience. To let what is pass and become the past and what is not, what has never happened, what cannot be, in truth, and leave what is nonexistent in the realm of what will never occur, then we may understand the difference between opinion and truth. As you sail past our galaxy, confined within a hermetically-sealed, isolation capsule, you may have dreams, like others before you, as if this cell were hell itself, but this figment of an exacerbated mind, your imagination heightened to an extreme because of stress...well, this course is to help alleviate the self-torture of consciousness floating in space to a destination unknown by your own mind. I am here to train you to realize the thoughts that create dreams may turn viscous like an autoimmune response and the way to turn off the repetitive cycle of nightmares is to envision dreams as a problem-solving activity that may be without solution itself but the difference is mind is simply a vessel where thoughts take place. Thoughts may create feelings and emotions that enter into dreams. Do not be afraid of your mind. It does not create the content of dreams. Though dreams may become your reality as you float, all alone, through outer space. Your journey will take time but you will be hooked up to life-support systems. You are not in control of your vessel but your destination will come on time. At this point, the earth is uninhabitable. And you are old enough to leave on a solo voyage."

"Let me know if you have any questions."