Hell No, Just Don't Ask ~ Saturday, April 29, 2023

[Friday Night, Chicago]

What is apparent,
however obvious in
appearance, is not

the truth in itself;

in fact, limited knowledge,
surely at a loss

as to ascertain the truth,
provides little but a faith,
pregnant, full of hope

against suicide;
rent from this world, the living
endlessly breeding

not only tulips;
the police pull the red tape

All the Difference ~ Monday, April 24, 2023

This imaginary choice between
Whispers and brutality, a voice
Only heard in the darkness, unseen
Remarks on a fork in the road, green
Onions grow wild. Silver Ghost Rolls-Royce

Arrives on Easter, 1916
Drunken, vainglorious, dreamt a lout
Silent, nowhere near the front, far too green
Dilettante, delights in nudes, mean
Income, inheritance, without doubt

Vested interest, untouched principal
Earnings from the Casement arms deals
Roger remains clueless of his betrayal
Gentlemen of high treason forestall
Execution while two fags smoked congeals

Dried blood but hanging punctuates soil
Interred for decades, his remains
Necessitated closure, coil
Ashen dreams shuffled off, his toil
Yolk-stained face, human rights, such pains

Evoke an age of bigotry, pride
Left post-war generations to rise
Livid and bruised from abuse, lives tried
Outside the courts, opinions deep-fried
Want for justice to no one's surprise

Whispers and brutality, that voice
Object of pure curiosity
Orders each subject without a clear choice
Decisive as two paths, rejoice
As mercy ends war's atrocity

Elle a le nez pour le zen ~ Saturday, April 22, 2023

Please Roshi, attempt never to stroke the ego of a furless cat.

Upset, she growls. She digs her murder mittens deep into my thighs.

Sweet Motörkitty, succulent as a cactus, as a prickly pear.

Suffer not dukkha, Buddha kitty, mu-nature is a bitch in heat.

You may rub Vruvvi entirely the wrong way, knowing no different.

The World-weary Blues ~ Monday, April 17, 2023

So, I decided
to disappear for a while
hope you don't mind, bye

obviously, though
I've decided not to post
this message online

I give up, unheard
unwelcome, why fight a stream
the river is strong

denial, a hard game
to come to grips with your role
in the play, the pie

eventually sliced
gets eaten by those who can
for those who can't, won't

ciphers, enigmas
coded texts as metaphors
analogies vine

insidiously
up walls to the balcony
to climb them is wrong

demonstrate concern
care and consideration
kindness is a lie

evidently, time
devours the children of God
mythology don't

differentiate
between bad, evil, ugly
and good elements

touch the wall at night
we were told what's right from wrong
but some don't listen

obey the police
until you meet the wrong ones
without any sense

did I state my plan
to disappear in plain sight
in the world of men

if I'm successful
no one will ever notice
I left, as a spy

social butterfly
travels person to person
gathering nectar

at lunch in high school
I spent my time not eating
but meeting new friends

pray to no avail
the future lost in my past
my actions entail

predestination
pre-existing conditions
shape the line vector

envelope this life
in a box with other lives
other envelopes

archaic thinking
about present conditions
a mirror to cleanse

rust and dust reside
until someone scrubs away
the filth in detail

forget not the past
soak it all in, remember
to break the mold cast

osteoblasts heal
bones broken or damaged, build
new cells in the hope

reminiscent, cells
build the skeleton again
the frame for body

as I decided
today, to leave behind past
as past to present

within each present
moment what I have become
to disembody

haunted frames of thought
terrified by the trauma
a spiral descent

in the inferno
the mouth devours ignorance
where nothing can last

liberated thought
poetic experience
a visceral cleanse

enter the body
explore with each breath the force
as to be alive

harness the collar
with the hames to haul and plough
to breathe and do work

operate the eyes
diminished capacity
to see without lens

pull in my focus
to a votive candle flame
as a memory

enjoy the moment
half-starving, out of my mind
I found the beehive

yes, I saw below
myself in a group meeting
where I once did lurk

over and above
my first, initial insight
the nature of light

understanding guides
as a staff for the trauma
as a treasury

dip my tiny foot
bracingly in cold water
a slap in the face

old ideas awake
the imaginary thought
I forsake for good

needless and pointless
suffering throughout the world
this is not the case

transcend a vessel
as emptiness within form
this is not real wood

mind the uncarved block
dogs play without consciousness
happy out of spite

if I disappear
you may not even notice
I become shadow

nothing but darkness
within natural sunlight
I died as a child

death becomes a boy
tortured, insignificant
worthless as a corpse

but I won't post this
so, you will never read it
the captain gone wild

yes, slightly berserk
madness, the world-weary blues
wisdom, as love warps

exit signs on fire
the plasma of Zanzala
consumes Chicago

Inheritance ~ Friday, April 14, 2023

That recovery
a game for adult-children
is lifelong struggle

History wages
two world wars on battlefields
few ever visit

As for Ibiza
nightclub capital of Spain
kids dance all night long

Taste the difference, life
easy to juggle with drugs
and mules to smuggle

Recovery lasts
one day at a time, sober
while on the wagon

Each person falls off
led astray, let your guard down
forced to solicit

Cancer, worse by far
as remission rings the bell
with wings for a song

Ovaries burn
in the crematorium
of fruitless women

Vas deferens cut
a seedless man is reborn
fatten the dragon

Empty the main drain
piss away the vinegar
no stranger to time

Remember the past
trauma provides all wisdom
fire burns plays the mime

Yes, there is no hope
outside suffering but sit
breathe in the limen

Poetry Survives ~ Wednesday, April 12, 2023

It is only I
who cares too much about words
no one wants to read

This applies to you
who writes to impress the world
with your poetry

In a dark cavern
the end of the universe
without heat or light

Sit down a moment
echoes of memories past
on this you may feed

Obedient forms
bend like saplings in the breeze
these are your children

Not the sleeping moths
the spawn of Satan who eat
your sweaters solely

Let us say, to piss
you off, to annoy all sense
just to start a fight

Yes, these nocturnal
creatures who won't let you sleep
call them thoughts in dreams

I remember when
in college, I went to class
to meet such villains

Who passed the tantō
across the table for me
to spill out my guts

How much I felt love
the absence of heat and light
the warmth of hailstones

Over the decades
thankfully, I've forgotten
the sinister cuts

Collaboration
by omission to speak up
freedom spits out bones

Asinine Asian
the one with long donkey ears
listen while he screams

Read not the darkness
beaten into his mush brain
perhaps he's insane

Empathy won't help
to feel the cut stem helps none
her perfume still stinks

Sell the bouquet, move
on, no time to smell the scent
of beauty undone

Tranquil, the evil
of humanity, to move
a pawn with a cane

Obsess over harm
caused and received as karma
conditions each act

Order the players
as any director would
still one player blinks

Murder the actor
as capital punishment
her crime being one

Understanding words,
sounds, phonemes, makes a poet
rhyme on stage, a fool

Comes the spoken word
broken and bent, mangled bones
to forge a new pact

Heat the tempered sword
until sprung rhythms hammer
steel grey-blue and brown

Asinine Asian
ridicules cherished values
skews rules to favor

Brown over grey-blue
her sad hue in her coffin
kiss her forehead, frown

Obtuse emotions
overwhelm his confusion
her breath to savor

Understanding burns
bridges of experience
with wisdom, a tool

Trauma opens wounds
rips off scabs, peels memories
spits bloody phlegm, runs

Wounded through the woods
naked, eviscerated
deer beside the road

Only the hunter
drinks the blood of her first kill
reckless abandon

Rituals relish
thick black milk, red hot, buck shot
silences the guns

Diminished fifths play
tritones as augmented fourths
the adversary

See in the mirror
reflects diabolus
diamanté, load

Nervous energy
displayed on the hood, trophy
witness Abaddon

Off-kilter, perish
the thought, destroy the image
the bottomless pit

Our ruin, Sheol
the end of the universe
the tributary

No stream of payment
for corruption, politics
baksheesh, grease the wheels

Enter red-handed
caught, hands severed, a cleaver
shows a clever child

What is optional
to steal, to desire, to lie
choices Satan deals

As you see your cards
the clairvoyant psychic reads
five-card draw, eyes wild

No tarot foresees
other than self-fulfilling
prophecies, 8-bit

To program random
acts of cruelty, kindness
senseless as beauty

Slip into sequins
satan in a satin gown
she remains undead

To read poetry
an oncologist might laugh
how inane, donkey

Of Balaam's angel
mercy for the talking ass
his faith in duty

Restless sleepers toss
turn in their coffins, in graves
deep enough to rest

Exit innocent
a little boy, three years old
never understood

As a child, I cared
too much about what others
thought, as a zombie

Demented and dull
wake up rooster, time to crow
fire provides the test

Exit 53 ~ Monday, April 10, 2023

There was once a time
I dreamed to write a novel
or a masterpiece

How people clamor
when a tragedy happens
"for crying out loud"

Enter history
even The World Trade Center
is a non-event

Remember Zoomers
can never forget the time
when all the clocks cease

Even the noughties
born after millennium
Y2K crisis

Worked out after all
the Dark Hype of Capital
wore a holy shroud

As a wanna-be
poet or writer, I failed
India ink spent

Still I write poems
only a few will then read
what is the point, son

Of the Nobel Prize
and other vainglorious
pursuits, my iris

Necessarily
brown, as I am South Asian
constricts or dilates

Concerning flashbacks
from drug abuse in high school
I was acting out

Exit my romance
with destructive behaviors
though no mock debates

Against excessive
participation in sports
had created doubt

Trouble always comes
in threes, it seems, they make noise
the click of a gun

I know not of guns
limited experience
sheltered from the start

Masterpieces write
what becomes necessary
to read, wheels to grease

Exit fifty-three
an off-ramp and not my age
sets this work of art

Stellar Dawn Twilight ~ Thursday, April 6, 2023

Reading obituaries
even the dead live
a touch better than
dunce cap in hand, I would dare
imagine myself
not ever knowing
green grass from bluegrass, the blues

only theorize
bitterroot pulled up
in the mountains, as we walk
through the ancient hills
under canopy
as we walk, we taste the roots
rustic old barnyard
if the rooster crows
eventually, the sun shines
stellar dawn twilight

What Is Poetry? ~ Thursday, April 6, 2023

It smells like a poem.

It tastes like a poem.

But is it a poem?

No, it's gobbledygook.

Quatorzain ~ Wednesday, April 5, 2023

How the four of us
overcame success
working with failure

the worst description
haunts the depiction
exhibit alpha

foreign domestic
objects heaven-sent
under a hailstorm
reborn abortion

obviously stuck
forget samsara

ugly bitterroot
save us from the truth

On Sanderson Lane ~ Tuesday, April 4, 2023

After "Chicago"

by Sufjan Stevens

---

We met as young children
We were small, never tall

Watched us play football
My big bro stole the show

We played punk rock in a band
Hopes and dreams, hopes and dreams

It fell apart at the seams
We moved on, we grew strong

I moved to Memphis
Lost my mind, found the grind

Spent my days reading books
Darkness screams, as dawn gleams

You said the Delta Blues would
Save my soul, save my soul

Things fell apart with our dreams
Hearts grew cold, stones grew bold

You went to art school
So it goes, so it goes

To learn how to paint
As crows fly in beelines

We spoke with one thought
As winds blow, rivers flow

You set the tripwire
As above, so below

When teardrops explode
In our youth, taste the truth

Then rhymes were a crime
For a change, as to the strange

We met before we were friends
We met before we were friends

We met before we were friends
We met before we were friends

You found me when I was lost
In your truck with good luck

My mind was weak, on the brink
Of despair, thoughts threadbare

My friends had all moved away
I was glad, I was sad

You said to let go
As the past cannot last

The Still Surface Thrives ~ Sunday, April 2, 2023

After a long day

of running twenty-one miles

I want to relax

I feed my two cats

their mushy food late at night

when my day is done

Then I make dinner

scrambled eggs, beans, sauerkraut

and a tin of fish

But I'm so tired

I only eat half a bowl

and save the rest, facts

I play some music

Philip Glass on piano

and think what I'd write

A letter to thank

the composer for his work

I love it a ton

There was once a time

I thought I could write music

a pipe dream, my wish

To be somebody

others listen to for fun

to enjoy their lives

But I write poems

nobody reads, it's okay

listen to The Light

Twenty-four minutes

of symphonic bliss, I die

every time I hear

This composition

a work of art is a craft

sculpted perfection

This world, I suffer

from depression, affective

dysphoria, year

After year, decades

of keeping my head above

water, inflection

Of the waves, the sea

the ocean, the salt water

the still surface thrives

These Trees Have No Bark ~ Saturday, April 1, 2023

Now, I say goodbye.

I am only three years old.

Yet, I cannot speak.

Of this world, I know

Nothing, the words I must use

To describe the past.

Wicked is my soul

To orbit the gravity

Of flames without spark.

I am a candle.

A memory caught in time

To console the weak.

Soon, the boy will grow.

No longer, just three years old

But an older man.

As I grow older

I learn the language, the words

Not of the outcast.

Yes, while in exile

From the kingdom of my birth,

These trees have no bark.

Granted no reprieve

I cannot return back home.

But live in exile.

Older and wiser.

As I learn philosophy.

This life, I must span.

Objects of reason

Ideas, a child never knows

But, deep in my gut.

Different in difference.

Once, a small boy. I stand out.

Others instill doubt.

Burdened with the weight

Of the universe, my back

Faces the first cut.

Yes, I am a slave.

Born a prince in my homeland.

How to span the route?

Envy the others

Who know nothing of hardship.

This life, full of guile.