Names Changed to Protect the Innocent ~ Wednesday, October 30, 2024

They had no idea as kids, Jeanne and Leigh
how could I blame children as an adult
even as grown up folks if we could talk
yet, emotions never fade but simmer

hate-filled racist taunts in the Seventies
asked everyone to forgive the harm done
did the perpetrators never forget

never seems immediately after
or never again to think of the past

ideas as right or wrong were meaningless
don't get me wrong, religion had its place
even if theory and practice were Church
and State, separated by amendment

as Constitution meets Philosophy
stated as primary as slavery

kissing cousins of American Law
if I never met Brinsley and Schwarzkopf
do you think their actions are all my fault
such as I was not an American

Just a boy born in Bombay long ago
even though never to be President
as if spelling well as a kid was bad
nobody in Cali was ever good
not me, certainly, full of past triggers
even though we just wanted to have fun

ask me if I care anymore after
nearly forty years with an axe to grind
drop that blade, wish I could burn the handle

Leave this world better than we received it
ever thrown into Chaos, the Abyss
if I could imagine being beyond
given situations I find myself
horrified by the past, try to let go

A Boy in a Skirt ~ Sunday, October 27, 2024

Crying but what for the hidden treasure
rest mariposa for what a long flight
yellow daffodil your beautiful lies
inspire creation / destruction pleasure
never insane pain beyond all reason
generate sacred healing honor bright

burn pepper and salt crystal azure skies
urn full of ashes broken bones and dust
terrible heartbreak except such treason

warps clear perception from heels up the spine
hover in constant anguish in the brain
as for all the tears pickled within brine
twisted ankles turn the world with a sprain

forget what is known blown out in a gust
of hot air unfair attitude old man
resolve all problems within this molehill

trapped on a mountain within a crevasse
how to freeze to death give up on the plan
enter the beyond behind the curtains

hide all repression with crude oil to spill
inside the outside never an impasse
decisions unmade reversed tarot card
destabilize hay bales with hard bargains
exit the bedroom screaming as a child
nothing but laughter for much suffering

tease with sadistic pleasure brutal wild
resort to denial block out buffering
entitled to smile to say life is hard
advantageous brick thick and dense as dirt
sugar always sweet sours rotten teeth
usury the cake to eat as a wreath
revel in honey why hurt people hurt
eclipsed by the moon a boy in a skirt

Unvote the So-called American Left ~ Saturday, October 26, 2024

The unwoke awake during their own wake
how dead to undead and unwoke to woke
enters the canon as fodder for birds

underneath it all in anger, I quake
not from past neglect that I overlook
welcome to the poor in Chicago, broke
obscene on public transportation, words
kill all sense of care as to judge concern
even if I could offer aide and cook

asparagus grilled with Greek olive oil
would it be worthwhile, even lucrative
as the bottom line decides how much toil
killing my dead soul for a decorative
elegant dinner; so much to discern

dinner costs aside, my pride is my bride
underneath it all I shake with fury
ride the CTA to view sleeping bears
if not the Red Line, the Blue Line we ride
not far from the wild creatures without homes
given the mayor's scruples, the jury

takes to their chamber to discuss wild hairs
how undone the slum of Chicago teams
each night with vagrants begging, holding combs
if I could afford to feed the homeless
right the wronged and write off the money pit

of the IRS and other boneless
wealthy jellyfish who don't give a shit
nothing appears quite as clear as it seems

woke becomes on fleek, a joke cannot last
a dictionary detects its rejects
kindness by the side of the road injects
each person with "HOPE", a placard long past

(Schlimazel) שלימזל ~ Tuesday, October 22, 2024

To have been better as a bed wetter
oil sheet warm then cold mother the queer smell

humble bumble bee free never to sting
ave Maria knit me a sweater
virtuous patience my wrath full of ire
ever since childhood broken as a bell

bitter jitterbug smite me with one swing
end this senseless search for birch sap syrup
ever neurotic erotic empire
nervous from the start first vomits fresh milk

buttermilk pancakes Brother Jake to give
etter suisse framboise to wear with a kilt
tickle me senseless with one life to live
tough motherfucker, a stainless steel cup
enjoy the boy toy flash buckle your belt
rejoice Brother Jake, King Charles we behead

ask never questions born of lust and cash
suck was a queer word Stephen feels a welt

as to enable a fabled schism

beast of least burden titans live undead
eternal struggle as under the lash
dark hype types hard bop cop a feel schlemiel

winter freezes balls bukkake jism
exit the rat race move on shoot your load
terror of torture sadistic brother
taunt kid brother bro nevermore to goad
epic recipe destroys the other
remember mother no game without spiel

Blockage ~ Tuesday, March 22, 2022

[1]

Allegedly, I was three years old when we left London for Kew Gardens, Queens in New York City. Little did I know then my brother would succeed exactly as he should, older, colder, wiser. Despite our differences... I was a sensitive, little monster... mommy cared for us equally. Yet, I felt emptiness as we crossed the ocean.

I was unbearable to my family, a flaw.

Would that I could not be born like poor George Bailey, as an utter failure, victim of circumstance, savvy people saw through my innocent disguise.

Three years old, old enough to walk, talk, act stupid. However, as a child, I appeared without fault. Remember, I was small, cute and apparently without an ounce of guile. Even then, deception deceives the deceiver. Enter '72 without a clue, so blue.

Yesterday, I woke up and went running at dawn. Exactly, fifty years later I write about a time I can never recover from the past. Remember, I am three years old when it took place. Still, my first memory... I should really forget.

Old, old, old... getting old is never any fun. Let me be twenty-two, or even thirty-two. Diminished returns, this life not worth the investment.

When I went to visit Amanda, as a child, how full of emotion, I told her, "I love you." Even as a small boy, this was appropriate. Nope! My older brother thought otherwise and laughed.

While four years of difference is not a lot in age, exceptions to the rule must be made for sadists.

Leaving London, England was tragic in a sense. Even then, as a child, I thought myself, British for our passports said so, though this is in hindsight. To say I was British would be a huge mistake.

[2]

London? No, Middlesex. Near where my father worked. Only, I was too young to know much about it. Not that we ever saw much of our dad as kids. Despite loving our mom, he worked at the airport. Only, it was Party Central and our father not just came from Kenya, he came from Nairobi.

Forget the past, they say, move on with your own life. Only, the blockages, these stuck points get sticky. Remember, memories retain for a reason.

Kiss the girls, make them cry. I said my last goodbye. Enter American airspace as immigrants. Would I be anything otherwise in their eyes.

Grant me serenity but to whom do I speak, asking for charity, for kindness, for favors. Remember, I was born in Bombay, not London. Despite being a child, I was a foreigner. Even if I could speak and write Perfect English. No one saw me as theirs, as from their own homeland. Sucker to believe in the American Dream.

Question reality, study philosophy. Understanding nothing, but experiences. Enter contemplation, contemplate suicide. Every act has merits, reward this life with death. No, with no certainty... this is all that we know. Still, to end misery... it is a temptation.

If I were without flaws as a perfect diamond... no, I am a monster, never a good person.

New York City, a flash! We were gone in two years. Even if I had met Bobby Diggs, the RZA, would that make a difference, born a week after me.

Yet, I was neither Black, nor anyone Black kids on the outskirts of life cared anything about. Remember, South Asians are simply immigrants. Kill a Hindu, a Sikh, create a Hate Crimes Act.

Crippled in my own mind, broken, a fractured life. In the city, I saw from our sixth story view that people appear small, that balsa planes fly far. Yet, I started to learn... I was just a small man.

[3]

Lessons to learn in life, turn anger into gold. If I blame anyone that energy returns to haunt my days on earth, to follow my footsteps, to appear as spectres, as phantoms, or as ghosts. Little did I know then, as a child, how it works, everyone knows karma, everyone learns dharma.

Despite our age difference, my brother got along in spite of hating me as his little brother, despite his sadism, I learned some good lessons.

I learned never to trust, never to talk or feel.

Kismet divides my lot, this is my destiny. Nothing less than to write about the blockages. Obey the directions offered by our parents. Would that they realized defense mechanisms.

That was then, this is now. Fifty-three years of age, how do I shake it off, need I ask Taylor Swift? Every musician knows how difficult it is... not to succeed, but fail until they can succeed.

Music was my first love and so I played the drums, yet fate placed poetry before my eyes, I wept.

Beyond this world, I know nothing is for certain. Religion teaches us to believe, to have faith. Only, a skeptical, questioning mind sees past theological words as the chatter of birds. Hungry to understand, I understood limits. Even in calculus, we encounter limits. Religion, I gave up for Lent, as the joke goes.

Wine, women, and song but no, I was no sailor. Only a madman thought with his brain, not his dick. Under the tyranny of my own character, (let me preface this thought with the fact I shaped it), demented as I was to others, I was sure.

Satori was a flash, gradual and then gone. Under these conditions, I expected something. Calamity to want, to desire what is gone. Catastrophe happens, still I must restructure. Engage futility with misunderstanding. Enter into debates, thinking I know better. Despite knowing nothing, Socrates kept his cool.

[4]

Enter a foreign land, nowhere are we at home. Xenophobia saves natives from foreigners. America knows well to decimate natives. Caution signs on the shore should have pointed inwards. Tragically, genocide had not been coined, as yet. Let the indigenous peoples have their lands back. Yet, we cannot undo what has been done with guns.

Attempts to understand Manifest Destiny strike a chord of disgust at our pride and hubris.

History writes itself with the blood of others. Empty the pen of ink, fill it up with more blood.

Should I concern myself with words beyond my scope? How to practice my words, to preach my word is bond? Or hypocritical, just as everyone else? Under the tyranny of language, of life lived, limit experience until experiments decide how I should live out the rest of my life.

Older now, still a child striving to be a man. Little inside my mind, the blockages persist. Defense mechanisms get in the way of growth. Even to realize this fact, helps nobody. Realize potentials, actualize the truth.

Crabby as a Cancer but why identify, order constellations using my own metric, lift the veil, envision a universe beyond dimensions created by scientists in Rome, entertain other thoughts, other minds, other worlds, residing in the mind, the self is not the stars.

Wisdom is not beauty, this visceral domain, intelligence wastes time, energy, resources, struggles to keep up with our fierce competition, engages tug-of-war, to win or lose is all, recall failure / success are aspects of this game.

[5]

Diametrically in opposition across each radiant circle speaks dialectically specious arguments, spectacular mirrors presenting truth as such, as it appears in fact, in all good faith, the oak believes in the acorn, triumphs within itself simply by existing, existence seemingly the essence of being.

Organize, rearrange the constructs of this world, unequal in measure, to place recognition reasonably higher than imagination...

Does this make sense to me, society orders indifference to pleasure or pain, a secret gift from antiquity, fools, exactly like ourselves, finding out about life, guided by assumptions, experiments to learn about anatomy, research on cognition, processes of thinking, experience with gold, ethics and politics, natural science and the physical laws of creativity placed as a schema over each point in the system, the universe measured specifically to man.

I was a hateful child, I learned what I was taught.

Would that I had been taught how to love, not to judge. As simple as turning over within the mind, such as I do in bed asleep behind the wheel.

As a child, I would ask impossible questions.

Something inside my brain needed to know, "what if..." every time my brother was proximal to me. Not that he cared for me and my questions, annoyed, sick and tired of hearing thoughts out of deep, left field. If only I could be quiet for a moment. Though, I was a shy guy, a sincere introvert. If anyone wanted to shine it was Leo, very extroverted, outgoing and social, exact opposites, boys who bothered each other.

[6]

The Universe Is All My Fault ~ Monday, October 21, 2024

Trustworthy? No one, ever, not a soul!
remember my wife? My ex-wife? You know
until the moment she chose to do harm
still, I was not good, a lump of black coal
trust not the mirror of language for shame
wastes time on ego, on image, on glow
orbit persona to sound the alarm
reveal tit-for-tat gossip as karma
trained dog, housebroken, but not beyond blame
how stupid is love without children, dumb
yet, we were happy until we were not

Nobody offers fair warning, too numb
organically drunk, hormones tie the knot

obtain a divorce, move on, when dharma
notifies the wheel to turn, separate
each takes a deep breath to reflect on change

exit stage left, go, with the house on fire
visions of dark pitch, bituminous spate
eternally trapped in asphalt gravel
remember the dog in the street with mange

no, this hell is mine, made by my desire
orders of angels, what a fucking lie
tell me what to say when the court gavel

asks Bodhidharma if death travels west

suddenly, I watched paint dry on the wall
over nine long years, it became a test
until I awoke as if in free-fall
left with the writing, no more apple pie

Unembraced ~ Sunday, October 20, 2024

For a second, she looks at me as if...
or am I deceived by the mama bear
really, I could be handsome in her eyes

as if I were a good person, a whiff

say of Z by Ermenegildo Zegna
even in my Lululemon, I fare
close to second in style, her husband cries
out to make way to their children in tow
not that I am not patient, Sardegna
does that name suit you, exotic beauty

sucker that I am for blue eyes, I pass
however confident in my duty
emblematic of one never so crass

licensed to chill, ice bucket wheel barrow
organic apples and ripe bananas
obtained at the grocery store, pity
kindness, an old man in need of a hug
see me, in my pocket, sixteen annas

as if I were ethical and honest
truly impossible in the city

maybe if I were just a lady bug
even a doctor or a lawyer, no

ambition to get ahead without rest
suffer the emptiness within sorrow

internal/external dichotomy
fraught with passion, beg, steal, even borrow

old man without a tracheotomy
reasonable to say you never know

A Mere Footnote in History ~ Saturday, October 19, 2024

Is it my fault that you are beautiful
still, it is not my place to fall in love

if you were ugly or maybe a dog
terrible as that sounds if you could pull

me into your orbit into your sphere
yet though I circle as if from above

friendship with a hawk leaves me in a bog
as if waiting for Seamus to come dig
until his pen runs out of ink unclear
luminosity within gravity
tumble into your influence and fall

tragically without a shred of pity
humbled by your impudence and your gall
as if I could elect another Whig
trouble is that I vote anarchist, right

yes, I am grotesque, don't look at me, please
only the hideous Clooney and Pitt
undertake to make me handsome despite

age, grey hair, wrinkles and weight to transform
rubies into diamonds but if I sneeze
everything goes to waste just so much shit

beggars belief, forgive me, please, your grace
exacts tribute as the ladybugs swarm
around my arrhythmia, cold, black stone
undertakers of love bury nonsense
titanic interruption on the phone
information angelic in defense
for or against the hoi polloi, the case
under review for lack of evidence
lack of common sense, lack of pounds and pence

Celebrate the Traces ~ Wednesday, October 16, 2024

As you know by now we used LSD
so as to escape our need to grow up

yes we were minors on a weekend trip
out of sorts as teens reading poetry
until crash landing with a defunct band

kiss the past goodbye we drink from the cup
no innocence lost dipped more than the tip
orbits awakened pupils dilated
we watched as traces past after the hand

but to hear Spirit talk philosophy
yet no one could see the unseen prophet

no one cared to eat cake but the coffee
only when sober at meetings befit
wonders never cease wishes belated

work or go to school college for last call
each day we undrank excesses of pain

until we split up went our separate ways
suck it through a straw stranded as to fall
excess leads wisdom to let go of hope
decidedly thoughts made us both insane

Liquidate the mind unknown through the haze
Success overlooks the fact we smoked dope
Diminished by time we found poverty

Human Resources: The Grimsby Report ~ Wednesday, October 9, 2024

The unsayable turns against the tide
how if I were blind to my own actions
each day, if I act the martyr to grief

unless I accept and therefore abide
not in sympathy, caught up in a role
sucker to succor, my own distractions
argue not to strengths but to seek relief
yellow zinnia, I lack all courage
as the unemployed drink beer on the dole
bile, irritable, angry, vexed at heart
lingers complacent, satisfied and smug
each day, I am blind to smell my own fart

turn against others, lash out, pull the rug
underneath us all, distress in storage
reside in trauma, cheetah in a cage
nocturnal raccoons free to sniff and roam
suffer the children as adults little

as the town crier whose opinions rage
grate the ears of maize in a cornfield maze
as if words could burn waves of white sea foam
if I am privileged, am I so brittle
not to withstand hate, I wander, a clue
stirs up the cauldron, the pot to amaze
traumatized infants, shaken, nothing stirs

the newscaster more, a son of the law
how daddy was hurt sounds as a gear whirs
each day, my body hurts under the claw

take a dumb, black cat, pouncer, no one knew
if elder statesmen, entitled and free
decide other's fate, to live in a shoe
each day, I pray that I'm not you, agree

Red Line ~ Sunday, October 6, 2024

More than poverty, Gertie saw no hope
observe the people in order to help
reach out as you can to assist those lost
experience shows lives destroyed by dope

thanatos is change itself more than death
how we look away while mental health
advocates advise no matter the cost
not to directly intervene but ask

provided the harm done from years on meth
opens the back door to offer a hand
victims of hateful politics resist
every chance to change while each grain of sand
reveals orange peals makes trauma desist
trauma and distress both wear the black mask
yet, Gertie wants more as she has no fear

Gertie cooks dinner in a small kitchen
empty of workers other than herself
resolved to assist to make plainly clear
time returns each day to check in and see
if people accept the past as a den
engaged with vipers like books on a shelf

see what attracts you to make things better
avenues with false opportunity
wind the roads to catch you and yours off guard

nothing but the trees reach toward the sun
opportunity shifts as work is hard

hard as mining rocks for diamonds for fun
opportunity knocks in a sweater
poverty hopes pain without gain is done
empty promises success is hard-won

La Mauvaise Foi ~ Saturday, October 5, 2024

This is the phenomenal world
here, everything changes
if you blink, it might disappear
so, fasten your seat belt

if you look around, this may be your life
still the camera may pan elsewhere

this world happens so fast
have it your way if you are bored
each moment flashes like a bulb

pretend you understand
however everyone knows you do not
everyone knows because nobody knows
no one understands why we are alive
or they pretend to know while they are blind
most people lose their way from this blindness
even with perfect vision they can't see
no one can read the signs, or the red flags
as for those in authority, they lie
lies are at the root of all the blindness

welcome to this, the phenomenal world
obey the rules or find yourself locked up
running changes everything, if you run
little else makes a difference, in the end
decide how to act, choose your course, and go!