Trumpery ~ Tuesday, 25 June 2019

There are days I want to run, run away, 

high-step across America, head south, 

exit this country, The United States, 

re-emerge across the border, head south, 

enter Mexico without a passport, 

as I know next to no Spanish, head south, 

re-emerge in Costa Rica to surf, 

enter Columbia, run east, head south, 

decide to settle somewhere in Brazil, 

as people know how to pronounce my name, 

yet, to leave The United States, head south, 

settle in a foreign land and retire. 

I know I have nothing but my girlfriend, 

wishing I had money in this country, 

and no one has a dollar to offer, 

not a red cent, except the IRS, 

they leave me no richer than penniless, 

take it all, no money means no future, 

on the run, I leave the world far behind, 

run, run, run far away from here, head south, 

until this country treats its immigrants 

no worse than the indigenous natives, 

run away, no reason to stay, head south, 

until someone in The United States 

notices poverty helps no one live, 

as there is nothing here but bad TV, 

worthless, my time spent watching the world pass 

away, people, places, nothing remains, 

yet here I stay, I want to run, head south. 

Ferrari ~ Monday, 24 June 2019

Crackers in a cellophane ziplock bag 

rest, precariously placed, wide open 

along the edge of a shelf, underneath 

countertop design to remain hidden; 

kiss the night goodbye, wobbly at the knees, 

promoter, red jersey, acts ultra cool, 

only he can't walk, held up by his wife, 

tall security guard, his entourage. 

Box office attendants watch the scene play, 

ready to fall out, suppress laughter, spill 

onto the concrete dance floor, cemented, 

kiss the world goodbye, cruel, flush the toilet, 

everyone around the bar shakes their heads, 

nightlife afterparty, shift drinks in hand.

All Interpretation Is Misinterpretation ~ Tuesday, 18 June 2019

If I'd died on the night of my graduation, I would have known nothing of the last twenty years. I would have been happy, if, but, for a moment, drinking vintage champagne with my buddy, Kevin. Kevin, la veuve et moi, sipping vintage rosé, celebrating eight years, part-time school, full-time work. I look back in horror at the man I've become; if I'd ended my life, I'd have done one thing right. 

Song for My Father ~ 2 June 2019

Dear Dad, 

     It's Father's Day again, nothing 

even remotely to celebrate, nope, 

as you are still in a little tin box, 

remember, you died, and I never got... 

Dad, please, don't interrupt me while I write, 

...and I never got the chance to let grief 

deliver me from this life and your death. 

If I never got the chance, it's my fault, 

that I am to blame, that I made mistakes, 

still, it's not everyday your father dies. 

Forget that you told me to keep working 

at my new position at the bookstore, 

that I didn't know what to do, to ask 

human resources for time off, to leave 

everything to come visit you dying, 

reasonable, as I look back, hindsight 

succeeds at achieving perfect vision. 

Deliberately, I stayed away, as far 

as Chicago is from Huntington Beach, 

yes, I chose love two thousand miles away, 

as we have accepted, I was to blame, 

given the circumstances, no cash flow, 

a trip to California seemed absurd, 

in the eyes of my brother, I lacked sense, 

no one can return me to that moment, 

not that I would want to return, five years 

on and I live with my actions, demons 

taunt my soul in a living hell, I run 

hundreds of miles each month, never to reach 

in time to say goodbye, to embrace you, 

no, I am the wrong son for emotions, 

given my background, I am the king crab, 

even as a boy, I could not process 

virtual simulacra for feelings, 

enter my dissimulation, pretense, 

nothing anyone could then understand, 

remember the Seventies, no one knew 

even a thing about child disorders, 

maybe autism wasn't discovered, 

or maybe, I was just so damn special 

that I acted out all the time, bad kids, 

even they need love and understanding, 

left with your fists, the art of the boxer, 

yes, your favorite sport next to soccer, 

touched me with hands that lacked all affection, 

only my older brother, golden child, 

challenged you in friendship, I was a cause, 

even now, lost inside my head with words, 

left to my own devices, my silence 

entered a realm no one could touch or hold, 

berated by family and some classmates, 

reason overwhelmed my brain, while feelings 

attained a perpetual state of frozen 

tundra, the hell across which I now run, 

entering the marathon, year after... 

no internal dialogue again, please, 

on this matter, I stand firm, I'm tired 

pretending you, mom, or my brother talk 

endlessly to me while I run, I'm done 

asking for forgiveness, you never cared, 

still mom preaches "accountability," 

yet I stopped calling long ago, no more 

of the past will I bear as a burden, 

under this weight, I have lived much too long, 

are you cognizant of these words I write, 

remembering my father for others, 

even for myself, I seek out the best, 

suffering for so many years, the tears 

tumble meaninglessly while I run miles, 

if you cannot accept my sad attempt, 

little can I do to apologize, 

little can I do for a man of dust 

in a little tin box, I've never seen, 

never saw you inside your closed casket, 

at the memorial service, I stood, 

left with my anger at my own brother, 

instead of laughing at circumstances 

that are actually funny in hindsight, 

that we were left behind, in your old car, 

even you hadn't driven for six months, 

take a moment to breathe, to laugh, to scream, 

in that moment I wished I could be calm, 

no spark would ignite a dead battery, 

believe in morbid irony and laugh, 

on this note, I must dance in remembrance, 

xenophilia, a crowd of strangers 

rejoice around my acceptance of death, 

even I am bewildered by the thought, 

maybe gastroenteritis killed you, 

even diverticulitis killed you, 

maybe it was just cancer and weight loss, 

believe me, you didn't need to lose weight, 

even if your body didn't know that, 

remember, you died, and I never got... 

yes, I never got the chance to grieve tears 

over your body, living or in death, 

underneath the facade of life is pain, 

death brings up pain, sorrow and suffering, 

in life, it takes time for me to process 

emotions, death is a challenge I fear, 

death taunts me with demons as I run miles, 

again, I beg for you to forgive me, 

no longer a Catholic, but Buddhist, 

discipline and practice, I must accept, 

I train half the year for the marathon, 

never have I told you this, I run miles 

ever striving to stride better, to run 

virtually effortlessly, a game 

endless in endeavour to attain peace, 

remember, you died, and I never got... 

guaranteed you were in a better place, 

only that you died and were cremated, 

thank you for letting me speak my mind...bye.

Performance ~ Friday, 31 May 2019

Freckles the Clown walks into the limelight, 

right before he enters, someone trips him, 

entertaining children the world around, 

creating the image of a drunk night, 

king of the stage, Freckles was fat, but slim, 

layers of costume made him appear round, 

everytime he went on stage, the same thing, 

stumbling before the crowd, he sets the sting, 

telling the audience about his face, 

how long it takes to apply clown makeup, 

endless chatter, as three other clowns ride 

Chariot tricycles without much grace, 

letting the audience in on his life 

of entertainment, helps fill a tin cup 

with coins for charity, he hopes his wife, 

nurse practitioner, Betty, takes his side, 

while doing his spiel, Freckles juggles balls 

and rings and bowling pins, but never knives, 

little does anyone know how she met 

king of the stage, Freckles the Clown, but wives 

speak rarely about love, he tells the tale, 

inspired as a boy to throw knives, he falls, 

not once but twice, in the orchestra pit, 

the first time he slipped by mistake, the shoes, 

oversized, on his feet, made him clumsy, 

taken to the hospital, Betty set 

him straight, Freckles found love, without fail, 

even the second time, Nurse Betty bit 

lightning, seeing him in emergency, 

in time, she grew to love a clown, the news 

made the headlines at the circus, crowds came 

every night just to hear Freckles' story, 

little did he know how "Betty" became, 

in his mind, the audience favorite act, 

ghosts rarely appear, nor do they react, 

however, Freckles' story, a gory 

tale of throwing knives, never hit the stage. 

Martial ~ Thursday, 30 May 2019

Perhaps, I was born mad, insane since birth, 

everyone knows I'm not right in the head, 

relatively speaking, salt is my worth, 

however, no one speaks what is unsaid, 

as I grew older, excuses were made, 

perhaps it was the drugs he took in school, 

somehow, I learned enough to make the grade, 

I was quiet and shy, not really cool, 

when I was off my rocker, funny things 

actually took place, howling at the moon, 

stark naked, on the roof of my friend's house, 

banished from sane people, I met my spouse, 

on the eve of college graduation, 

remember when I worked at the bookstore, 

nobody knew I flew with giant wings, 

madness came at eighteen, and then twenty, 

asylum-bound at twenty-one, too soon, 

despite my birthday in June, to fly south, 

indeed, I found myself trapped in Memphis, 

no one denied the insinuation, 

sanity was for the healthy and strong, 

as to my mind, I was under the floor, 

no one could say I didn't know plenty, 

even though, the drivel spewed from my mouth, 

slobber, as an infant, ignorant, bliss, 

in many ways, I knew just what was wrong, 

no one believed in me, right from the start, 

carry the hero by the ankle, dunk 

everything but his heel in the river, 

before my birth, they meant to deliver 

in the hospital in Bombay, a boy 

reasonable enough to keep a drunk 

ten feet away, with a pole, such an art, 

however smart, begs for a better toy.

Apostasy ~ Friday, 24 May 2019

The wordless word, by nature, indescribable, is without name and beyond all categories, imagined and wished for as real, yet forever unknown, a thought beyond understanding, beyond comprehension, hopelessly inconceivable, pointed at by witless theologians, but everyone knows the story of the finger pointing towards the moon, we are so far removed, we have never witnessed phenomena like this in our cosmic apprehension, entirely insensible, still we 'feel' its presence, we equivocate before such absurdity, prevaricate like crows along the proverbial fence, we argue until death we know the truth of the matter, however the wordless word is utterly meaningless, though ubiquitous in usage, sometimes we call it God.

Philomela ~ Friday, 24 May 2019

In a world, where an unreliable narrator keeps silent, watching without comment; as if her words, her unspoken oratory, would help piece together a story that doesn't make sense; we stand to understand nothing except, unhappiness misbegotten, emptiness in the souls of false lovers, and the cool demeanor of wanton violence. The voice of a victim of rape counts for nothing in our society, weightless as the song of a nightingale. It is the state who cuts her tongue out of her mouth; speechless and traumatized, no one warrants her story against her perpetrators. She is the symbol of repression and male privilege and entitlement. The courts cannot help her obtain justice for what is the equivalent? Castration only stops the act of rape, but does not deter other men from performing such acts. Who would ever believe her speechlessness? Not even Cassandra!

Pivot ~ Wednesday, 22 May 2019

Strange, is it not, how a word like 'level' 

teeters in the balance on a fulcrum, 

ready to tip to one side, where a French 

article holds its place, or the other, 

notably held in check by a suffix,  

given for names in Hebrew, that means 'God', 

even the letter 'v' is upsilon 

in Greek, used on a Corinthian vase, 

simply used as an ancient majuscule 

in print, within the name for Perseus (ΠΕΡΣΕVΣ), 

take a moment to sit and breathe in words, 

nothing is constructed simply by chance, 

obviously, quirks in English exist, 

transforming words into visual puns, 

humans enjoy these language games, as words 

overflow from our brains, to roll off tongues, 

words create our very world, as one mind, 

argue you are an individual, 

watch me not raise a fuss, I stay level, 

only to realize, we fight one mind, 

rest in this equanimity, my friend, 

despite all the distractions presented, 

level up in contemplation, this world, 

illusory, until you regard mind, 

kindred spirits on this ephemeral, 

enigmatic planet, where mind plays games, 

liquid as water, a natural state, 

effective to destroy, erode, or shape, 

vulnerable, we wait for storms to pass, 

enter the mind, one with phenomena, 

level-headed, calm, ready to respond. 

Stellar and Sterling Performance ~ Monday, 13 May 2019

How to be your own boss: 

No arguments, 

no complaints, 

no excuses. 

Get it done, 

and get out. 

Pace ~ Saturday, 11 May 2019

How to run a marathon in 118 minutes flat, or die trying. Such is the task of the sub-2 hours club. Because breaking 120 minutes is simply not competitive enough, we made the math simple. Run 4 minute 30 second mile splits for 26.219 miles and you've done it. 

Just do it. Wussy. 

Shuffle ~ Friday, 10 May 2019

I wait with the others, we toe the line, 

we wait for the starter's pistol, a horn, 

as good a substitute as a gun blast, 

in the interim, we listen to songs, 

to someone sing the national anthem, 

we take off our caps, a sign of respect, 

is this really a symbol of respect, 

to bare and bow our heads, to sing along, 

holler as we do at the end, the phrase 

"the home of the brave," somehow makes us cheer, 

home is anywhere I can rest my head, 

even "the land of the free," chokes us up, 

only, I do not feel free in this land, 

to criticize, perhaps, freely, yes, true, 

however, this land was never my home, 

even though, I rest my head here, yes, true, 

really, I am the son of immigrants, 

simply never given the choice to leave, 

we toe the line before the race, runners, 

every man, woman, and child for themselves, 

this is a road race, not a sinking ship, 

on that note, as runners, competition 

elicits empathy for the fallen, 

to help each other get back up and run, 

humans remain compassionate, humane, 

even in the chaos of a road race, 

lip service is all I choose to offer, 

if I kneel, in respect for the fallen, 

no one would respect that sign of respect, 

even if, my one brother were shot dead. 

Accountability ~ Friday, 10 May 2019

"...what it means to be black in white America."

what I cannot presume to know, 

however much, at times, I feel 

as if, as if I fit in with both black and white, 

truly, I know nothing, I know neither, 

if I understand one small thing, 

that thing... being... America, 

means neither black nor white, 

even the notion of America, 

as a country, as a nation, means nothing more, 

nothing more than murder, rape, genocide, 

still, black and white fight for their rights, 

to laugh at the perpetrators, their descendants, 

only means to laugh at myself, a descendant, 

bemoan the Age of Discovery, the Age of Exploration, 

enter the Age of Revisionist History, 

black, as the tribes of Africa, 

lacking knowledge of their own tribe, 

as the centuries pass, we create a people, 

create a tribe of uncertain background, 

kissing cousins killing their long lost kin, 

indigenous is not a recognized people, 

native before Europeans brought diseases, 

wonders never cease to amaze the dimwitted fools, descendants, 

however, to their benefit, they allowed poverty,  

in the lands of the First People, 

to flourish while they got rich by exploitation, 

even today, the white descendants show 

American pride as their own, 

make foreigners believe they are the best, 

even as they indoctrinate children, 

ready to feel no remorse or regret, no shame 

in the fact, they benefited from suffering, 

culpability is not an American value, 

accountability is not a concept that applies to them.

Randomness ~ Friday, 10 May 2019

I could have grown up anywhere, 

could have been just like you, 

only, I could only be me, 

until I realized that fact, 

little could be done to help me, 

despite how much everyone tried, 

however much they tried, 

as much as they loved me, 

very, very much, so they said, 

everyone had to disappear, 

great was the sorrow in my heart, 

raised in a beach town, Paradise, 

only my ancestors knew otherwise, 

wise in old age, they were all dead, 

no one at all could help me now, 

under these circumstances, I suffered, 

pretending Paradise was great, 

after I turned fifty, I knew I may never return, 

never see the land of my birth, 

yet, I could have been born...

where, anywhere, to anyone, 

however, I would still be me, 

even though, I could have been just like you, 

really, it doesn't matter who I am, 

even though, long ago, I was born a Goan. 

Levinas ~ Wednesday, 8 May 2019

In the face to face encounter with the other, the absolute other, 

not friend, nor enemy, not foe, no one we know, someone without a name 

that demands our respect, that begs recognition as a human being, 

her value precedes her presence, before she asks us to honor her place, 

elicit a response to accept or reject, recognize or deny, 

forget about ethics as written on pages of philosophy books, 

as we understand good and evil, right and wrong, the heat of the moment 

conditions our actions into learned behaviors, we need to overcome 

evidence of anger, resentment or hatred, deep-seated and hidden, 

to remember the past is not enough, the face we see before us leaves, 

otherwise than being, or beyond essence, seek to choose the way of truth, 

faced with an encounter, our choices and actions reveal our true nature, 

as we are conditioned by our cultural past, we may have learned to act 

callously to others, others we do not know, those we will never meet, 

encounters demand depth of appreciation, these moments disappear, 

endlessly appearing in another moment, until we turn over 

new leaves, we turn a page in the book of our lives, we learn to love ourselves, 

conditioned to choose hate over love for others, others we do not know, 

only complicates acts of aggression, hatred, violence, injustice, 

until we bow deeply before our reflection, we must accept others 

not as ourselves, but real appearances of life in its complexity, 

to admit to ourselves that we harbor ill-will for no good reason, truth 

enfolds within our spines, the humility found in the books of the wise, 

remembering our past, how we have been maligned, and, in turn, harmed others 

will not help us to face the other with kindness, the heat of the moment 

in fact raises the stakes to act as moral rods before the lightning strikes, 

take it not for granted I preach before the choir, to seek humility, 

honestly, takes courage even a lion lacks, we may be animals 

to devour each other in times of peace and war, for what reason, power, 

humans seek out control, to maintain the order they create for themselves, 

evidently, we love or hate as animals, political machines, 

only the encounter with the other opens a path to salvation, 

this saving grace to life is the only difference between the animals, 

hunters of living prey, and ourselves as human, as sentient beings, 

even the animals are more humane than us at times with the other, 

remain open to change, to hurt from the inside, because humility 

tears our egos to shreds, removes our false swagger, attends to the conscience, 

humility demands we polish a roof tile to see our reflection, 

enter the house of fun where images aren't real and the exit unknown, 

absolution arrives by cleansing the conscience of past misdeeds, accept 

blindly the faith I preach, vultures circle above, my corpse awaits their feast, 

seek not meaning in life, but to overcome fear, the fear of the other, 

only the encounter allows us to witness ourselves outside ourselves, 

look back on the moment, learn from mistakes, lessons not to repeat again, 

understand, we return again and again, learn, or make the same mistake 

time and again, vultures circle as do ideas, they follow the same path, 

encircle the spiral, a gyre or a helix doubled, to rise or fall, 

only the encounter reveals to us the truth, the truth we cannot speak, 

truth resides in the face of the other, we seek only our reflection, 

however, truth remains beyond appearances, beyond ideas of self, 

exactly when we hear the wind whistle through trees, without form we arrive, 

remember the future is full of past mistakes, accept humility. 

Rumble ~ Sunday, 5 May 2019

Purrball and the Motörkitty awoke 

under the stars, somewhere in a cornfield, 

rough sleeping with fellow travelers made 

riding in a tour bus never much fun, 

but they made the best with broken eggshells 

and cold coffee for breakfast everyday, 

left to their own devices, the ladies 

learned to cook scrambled eggs on a stovetop, 

after many years on the road, Purrball 

noticed that the life of a musician, 

despite the notoriety of cool, 

took its toll on the twin sisters, she spoke, 

however, in hushed tones when her sibling 

entered the Class A Diesel Horizon. 

Motörkitty played bass like her hero 

of legend, Ian Fraser Kilmister, 

to metalheads around the world, Lemmy 

of Motörhead, was simply known as God, 

resulting in four decades of music, 

kissed by countless adoring fans, his voice 

imbued their sound with a rasp none could teach, 

terrified as a child, Motörkitty 

took to whiskey to develop her voice, 

yet, she sounded more like Janis Joplin, 

after that night in the cornfield, Purrball 

went back to sleep in the Winnebago, 

only she felt she needed a long rest, 

killing time before time killed her, meant time, 

endless in novel invention, must stop.

Zugzwang ~ Saturday, 4 May 2019

Between you and me, they haven't a chance, 

remember, this is high stakes politics, 

even if the elections were not rigged, 

and the Electoral College not bribed, 

killing the President is just plain wrong, 

in this day and age, at least, with no war, 

no collusion, to speak of directly, 

granting him clemency would boost morale, 

take Nixon, for instance, if he rotted, 

however long in jail, without pardon, 

everyone would live in fear of prison. 

Forget the fact, the President had lied, 

only that clamshell, Putin, knew the truth, 

under no pressure to inform the world, 

really, do you think an ex-KGB 

tight-lipped security organizer, 

however skilled in judo, would speak up? 

We know the former President did not 

act wilfully to subvert the nation, 

left to his own devices, he advised 

legal counsel to disregard endgame. 

Moksha ~ Friday, 3 May 2019

I meant nothing to them, through no fault of my own, the second born, worthless, 

maybe I'm wrong, my faults mounted over the years, to compare, he was great, 

even if I was not corrupt from birth, it seems, from their own point of view, 

a lousy kid, a thief, a liar, a card cheat, would amount to nothing, 

nothing from nothing comes, it was necessary to unlearn my childhood, 

to contemplate my past to efface its effects on my life forever, 

no one knew who I was, a kid who needed love, attention, not beatings, 

only a child suffers corporal punishment, everyone else forgets 

the knife over my wrist, threats to cut off my hands, until the tears tumbled, 

how could I trust, and whom, nobody had a clue, not even my best friends, 

in fact, I was quiet, shy, rarely talkative, always inside my head, 

nothing but terrified to speak the truth to friends, their families knew nothing, 

given my history, I learned to lie to one and all, even myself, 

therapy in college came during my first year, in tears without a clue, 

only my family found me to blame, my health declined, I lost my mind, 

they said it was the drugs I took while in high school, diagnoses were wrong, 

how little time they took to label me for life, idiots called doctors, 

enter psychiatry, categories, labels, pigeon holes, lightning fast, 

mental health workers need help doing their job well with diagnoses, 

though my parents blamed me for my mistakes, they took me in after my stay, 

however nothing changed, I still walked on eggshells with the alcoholic, 

remind me how insane people act when drinking, I work in a nightclub, 

only now, at fifty, I look back knowingly, at how stupid they were, 

understanding the mind, my parents were not well equipped to handle kids, 

given their own background, growing up in Kenya, psychology was not 

human behavior, but why the Mau Mau hated British rule from abroad, 

nothing but the parties in the Gymkhana made sense to my own parents, 

only, I was not born yet, not in Nairobi, my father and brother 

found kinship in birthplace, in addition to blood, I was the outsider, 

as I was born neither in Goa, like my mom, nor in East Africa, 

until I realized, after my father's death, their contempt for my life, 

little had I been told until mom and I fought, and she spoke words of truth, 

that my brother, first born, had a choice to let go of his kinship with me, 

only I never knew, everything was secret, hidden from even me, 

father and mother were a united front in all their family affairs, 

my life meant nothing, but still I became withdrawn, I trusted nobody, 

yes, instinct took over, I learned to trust my gut, over their opinions, 

only, I learned to be non-judgmental, to act with acceptance, to hurt, 

windows to the soul, eyes cried tears for many years, then stopped, except for films, 

no one knew I suffered, but I then understood we all suffer in life, 

taught to identify suffering in all forms, I learned about distress, 

however, I stumble still, as I interact with strangers, their anger 

elicits emotions from childhood, I react to their taunts, to their words, 

shallow the grave I pass, it is my own childhood, tortured, murdered, buried, 

even today, I look back in wonder and think, imagine who I was, 

conditions affect lives in strange ways, I channeled my pain through poetry, 

on a cushion, I sit in meditation, breathe, let the thoughts come and go, 

nothing but clouds passing, context and perspective, I became an artist, 

drawing out of the well of sorrow, the water tasted mournful and sad, 

bad children still become great people who love life, but their lives are tarnished, 

only cleansing the soul of bad faith in conscience can someone learn to grow, 

religion was no fix for me, I left the Church at twenty to find truth, 

nowhere is certainty found outside the senses, I found the truth within, 

will, determination, and strength of character released in me, Spirit, 

ordinary language cannot convey in words this phenomenon, pain 

released Spirit to guide and instruct my actions, like the daimonion 

that Socrates observed, long ago, to warn him, how to act ethical, 

honesty is never enough, to walk the path with open eyes, to see, 

listen, let others speak, this is how Spirit talks, something strikes me as strange, 

even if I could start all over from the start with the knowledge I have, 

still, I would have to live this life, experience pain, sorrow, suffering, 

somehow, it would not help, I am just who I am, a man born in Bombay. 

Un Haïku de football ~ lundi, 22 avril 2019

Sur quel champ êtes-vous,

rouge comme des tulipes, ou jaune

comme des tristes jonquilles?

Stupidity ~ Wednesday, 17 April 2019

There's nothing I can do but laugh at how stupid this world of people act, 

how sad, this character of mine, Crying Buddha, has become, he must laugh 

even when he just wants to cry, to eat his pain, his sorrow with laughter, 

really he can't make up his mind either to cry or to laugh at people, 

even while he's laughing, he's crying deep inside, where no one can see him, 

see, it's better to laugh at the world than to cry, since no one feels my pain, 

nobody understands anyone else, their pain, their joy, or their sorrow, 

only the world knows how to show anger as pain, so I must laugh and cry, 

they are angry at me and someone in their past, hidden in their sorrow, 

how they forget the past and act out against me in rage like my father, 

if they can drown the pain with alcohol and drugs, they willingly do so, 

nothing is easier than to numb the sorrow but it returns with rage, 

given time, rage subsides into an apathy beyond hope, beyond help, 

I can do little but cry or laugh at people, to hide my emotions, 

creatures who walk this earth like monsters full of pain, raging inside, feelings 

ask only to be heard, to feel love and be loved, but we rage like monsters, 

nothing to do but wait, to find a place to rage and cry, laugh at the world, 

diminish the sorrow, transform it into hate, hate knows the fear within, 

only hate, unwilling to work through emotions, burns down all the bridges, 

burns down the cathedral and laughs at the sorrow others feel together, 

under no conditions does hate ever feel pain, hate feels the ecstasy, 

the joy of someone else in pain, the very pain they feel deep inside, hate 

laughs at stupidity and acts accordingly, hate cannot process pain, 

as it takes work and tears to transform deep sorrow into love for others, 

under these conditions, it is easy for hate to find others who hate, 

given the apathy others feel through neglect, we cannot rise above 

human suffering, work without help, full of tears, only the rich look down, 

at our stupidity, hide in their safe spaces, until someone destroys 

the Twin Towers with planes, an unthinkable act, but hate thought up a plan, 

how love can do nothing but look on in horror, as everything transforms 

out of the fear hate felt, hate showed the world sorrow, someone else brought the hate, 

when hate was young, a child in another country, a foreigner brought hate, 

stupidity begets the ancestry of hate, from Cain, the murderer, 

to everyday people, ordinary, their names, just names, until they act, 

until they cause grave harm, the bodies turn to dust, turn to ashes, to smoke, 

pretend we can forgive, we can address the pain, move beyond the sorrow, 

in forgiveness we find the opportunity to choose never to rage, 

dull the pain with razors and knives to cut ourselves, to show others our rage, 

this world of people act out of distress and fear, we cannot understand 

how others can do harm, when they, too, have been harmed, or they know that to harm 

is a political act, an act of power, the power to do harm, 

sovereign ability to enter a country and cause terror, for years 

we allowed our nation to invade foreign lands in the name of freedom, 

of democracy, hate begets an ancestry of hatred and terror, 

religion used tactics such as this to protect its people in Crusades, 

left with their emotions, they discovered new worlds, and slaughtered the masses, 

diminish their sorrow by the blood they unleash, they feel no pain, they hate, 

only to cause terror, terror begets terror, ships with human cargo, 

for slaves and slavery as political acts brought power, abundance, 

poverty to the bound, the captured, the enslaved, the price we pay to feel 

emotions beyond love, emotions that cause pain, suffering and sorrow, 

only people know how to hurt and harm others, for centuries, we take, 

pretend to show good will, Manifest Destiny, we slaughter the masses, 

left with our emotions, how to process the past, to forgive, move beyond, 

even as I struggle with my own suffering, my own sorrow, my pain, 

answers do not arise out of ashes, the dust remains dust, the smoke blows 

coolly away, bury the past in the ocean, to create coral reefs, 

this will save the planet from our stupidity, my laughter and my tears.

Turpentine ~ Sunday, 14 April 2019

As a young man, I saw intolerance firsthand, prejudice, bigotry, 

such discrimination came at a price, I kept quiet as I was shy, 

at thirteen, I woke up, politically aware, the release of Gandhi, 

yes, the movie, made me understand truth, for me, was a rallying cry, 

only I had no way to formulate in words what I knew about pain, 

until I tried to write lyrics for my punk band, did I find poetry, 

now, as I turn fifty, am I able to write and speak about the vain, 

gullible people who during the 70s left me marked, so early, 

marked by experience, I could never unlearn without years of training, 

as a foreign-born child of immigrants, I saw people act with benign 

neglect, they didn't care about others outside vested interests, straining, 

I could not keep quiet for the rest of my life, this world was asinine, 

stupid and complacent, children and adults, all were ignorant of harm, 

as a young man, I took part in acts of neglect, unable to process 

what I saw as the truth, my conscience corrupted, I lost my way, my charm 

ingratiated me with those who cause trauma, their pain, found in distress, 

notified me, we all suffer the same neglect, we abuse to act strong, 

trauma from this abuse will never disappear without an intention, 

our violence must end, or we perpetuate the harm we know as wrong, 

left alone as a child, a latchkey kid, I found no one, the attention 

every child craves, I found by acting out, stealing, lying, cheating, 

religion helped little for me to understand, I set fires and God spoke, 

as a young man, I woke to find truth in reason, but suffered the beating 

neither parent could turn away and not punish, I suffered and awoke, 

childhood was misery, unjust and uncaring, no one knew a shy child 

entered the world quiet but leaves as a roaring lion, I march with my army 

fully equipped with words I could not speak when young, because my mind was wild, 

in fact, my parents thought I was crazy, insane, mad, completely barmy, 

really, I lost my mind at twenty to regain my sense of injustice, 

senselessly beaten up, as a child, to correct mistakes made, made no sense, 

to understand abuse, I forced myself to cleanse my conscience, Augustus 

honored me in spirit for my efforts to come to terms with past offense, 

as a young man, I harmed others as I had been harmed by others, I cast 

no stone to throw, but light upon the harm, trauma, I knew was wrong, my mind 

decided to take charge, I trained myself to run, to clear away the past, 

prejudice, bigotry, I learned as a young man, injustice was not blind, 

retrain my thoughts to think as no other can do without effort, I found 

even Augustus saw my endeavors as pure, to accept and forgive, 

justice be damned, this world I set alight, on fire, the flames, words of clear sound, 

until I burn in flames the souls of each conscience we carry, we will live 

damned to harm and abuse, to do wrong, to act out as children, thinking God 

in His glory consigns us to act in this way, even this God, I doubt 

consents to our actions, as if His will be done through us, our actions flawed, 

even Augustus knows I must enter the flames to know the truth, this route 

bestows wisdom with age, mistakes made, bad judgment, experience, the good 

invites me to enter into the light of truth, beyond language and words, 

granted blessings to teach, I know what I must do, I had misunderstood 

others as a young man, taken offense, offered the same in kind, the birds 

try to signal, forewarn me of trouble to come, I see their augury,

rest assured, the birds speak a language beyond words, the truth I must divine, 

yes, wisdom lacks value in our society, thus, I burn in fury. 

Mumbai ~ Saturday, 13 April 2019

I was born in the city of Bombay, 

whether or not you accept this one fact, 

as you accept the fact you have one life, 

simply put, Bombay no longer exists, 

born to emigrate to lifelong exile, 

on the one hand, I am just who I am, 

reality sheds its layers like skin, 

not only the snake knows about rebirth, 

if I imagine myself as elsewhere, 

nothing would ever be the same, random, 

to grow up is to accept an imprint, 

humans, like ducklings, imprint with others, 

enter the random pattern of placement, 

cast a net far and wide, nowhere you go 

inside that perimeter will you find 

the conditions of your present nature, 

yet, look outside the net and you will see 

only mirrors of who you could have been, 

for geography shapes our state of mind. 

Bombay offers only a beginning, 

only a place to start, as anyone 

marking time with a calendar will note, 

butter melts with heat and turns into oil, 

as we change from solid into liquid, 

yesterday, I accepted my absence. 

Asterion ~ Thursday, 11 April 2019

Begin again, enter the secret passageway, 

enter darkness, even Theseus saw no light, 

reveal the location to no one, none may know, 

revel to unravel the mystery, this bay,

inlet, cove, hollow, cave, hidden without treasure, 

granted, all the bodies are gone, removed from sight, 

answers to your questions, these riddles of past show 

nothing but the horror of ignorance, childhood 

Negligible, adults live only for pleasure, 

ordinary people understand only lies, 

truth remains beyond doubt, beyond faith, beyond hope, 

listen for screams ancient, covered in blood and flies, 

enter mythology, the deformed child, a Pope, 

yes, the elongated skull with horns thought no good. 

Hoist the Banner for All to See ~ Sunday, 7 April 2019

Venture to say these words become birds on a flag unfurled instead of stars 

over a field of blue, these sparrows in a bush, chatter, chatter, chatter, 

lifting their little wings, excitedly hopping from branch to branch, to speak, 

under duress, their words, to have their say in court, so to speak, as the cars 

momentarily catch their attention, on bars, they travel on the fly, 

instantly, the sparrows return to their quarrel, over laws of congress, 

zingers fly, zip, zip, zip, a sparrow or two flee the bush but a moment, 

instantly, they return, with more chatter, upset with their colleagues' banter, 

nothing but fruitless talk, squirrels watch them quarrel, but know when to play meek, 

gathered in their canton, the sparrows argue law until dusk, when they're spent, 

Restless sparrows, then, sleep, until dawn lets them play a role under the sky 

of blue hue, through our eyes, we see the world, a flag unfurled, birds in distress, 

seconds pass, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, the song remains the same, 

eventually sparrows in congress, disappear, their bills pass into law, 

momentarily, God, observing the sparrows, delights in their motions, 

arguments only raise an eyebrow an instant, sparrows caught in their frame, 

restless creatures quarrel and fight without a goal in sight, they bite and claw, 

yes, scratch and swipe, their flaws, open wounds all can see, foaming with emotions. 

"bloody ignorant apes" ~ Friday, 5 April 2019

Assholes inhabit this great land, call them 

morons if you like, they don't care, nothing 

ever bothers them, except their own self-

righteousness. I can't see why anyone 

in their right mind would want to live in this 

country, mind you, not everyone is so 

apathetic as to shit where they eat. 

Prerogative ~ Saturday, 30 March 2019

I'm sorry if you think age is an illusion,  welcome to the body, 

maybe your delusion will fool other people in TV commercials, 

sorry, duplicity carries no weight except with idiots, 

only the body knows it cannot bear children, the image does not lie, 

rest assured people see beyond duplicity, beyond the lies you tell, 

remember the public ignores stupidity, ignores lack of judgment, 

yes, your naïvete makes senility look like the exploitation 

indeed, of white people, maybe this is revenge for slavery, grandma, 

for you are old, you make people believe your lies, representing whiteness, 

yes, whiteness speaks double, the duplicitous lie, Manifest Destiny, 

only now, white people disinherit their past, they disavow the lie, 

understand, it is not in their interest, the past when their ancestors ruled 

thoughtlessly set the stage for centuries of hate, discrimination, lies, 

honesty on TV is a joke, a subtle satire of bigotry, 

if you choose to believe what you see on TV, take with a pinch of salt, 

nothing and nobody tells lies better than stars beyond critical thought, 

killing indigenous peoples and make themselves appear blameless of acts 

against humanity, white people knew nothing of culpability, 

granted they left their priests in charge of their conscience, confess their crimes and lie, 

evade the truth others represent with their deaths, open the door to truth, 

intelligence, whiteness bears no transparency, though they speak without end, 

simpletons in a world where others see beyond their lies and deceptions, 

ask yourself if you care to help more than complain about the criminals 

nobody cares about, about crimes that occur because of negligence, 

ignorance is whiteness, oppression is whiteness, hatefulness is whiteness, 

left with their delusions, they gain power to crush any opposition, 

left with their illusions, they attempt to deceive the world with their beliefs, 

understand if you choose to feel unaffected and unaccountable, 

saving your time to help yourself and your family no one will take notice 

if you didn't help out, if you choose to play golf, if you bake apple pies, 

only you know whether or not you choose the lie, Manifest Destiny, 

no one can ever know if you profit from hate, if privilege is your lie, 

welcome to the body, the body politic, where age is the one truth, 

even if commercials and social media want to make age a truth 

less than no one would take the time to argue with false representation, 

call the lie what you will, x-ness, y-ness, z-ness, pinkness, blueness, whiteness, 

only you know the lie derives from your family, from your own lineage, 

make your peace before death with a conscience of hate and wanton violence, 

elicit from your priest, pastor, rabbi, imam, penance for confession, 

trust in the illusion you offer about age, money grants such values, 

only privilege offers the entitled to show others how to display 

the body as if truth were without exceptions, the standard rule is lies, 

honesty and goodness are deceptions and lies taught to self and others, 

enter the real body, not the one on the screen, the ones we see daily, 

body cannot tell lies, mind can deceive body, but body overrules, 

only the body knows how to live and to die, how to derive pleasure, 

deception is the game on TV that speaks truth as if truth were a lie, 

yet truth lies, it is so, as no one knows the truth, only the body knows. 

Redemption ~ Friday, 29 March 2019

Reconciliation may not call together a council to forgive, 

eventually we must address a bonafide committee in good faith, 

councils and committees may help deal with harms done but some still carry swords, 

only a firm handshake is meant to show that peace is found in a deep bow, 

noble spirits forgive not to forget, forgive to remember and heal, 

confront the past to look clearly at the harm done, to let go of the pain, 

if perpetrators do not ask for forgiveness, how do we still forgive, 

let go of the trauma, let go of suffering, let go of my sorrow, 

if I do not forgive, I continue to hurt, to suffer, to feel pain, 

after so many years, still the trauma remains, I have not pulled the roots, 

trauma resists healing, trauma seeks sweet revenge, trauma seeks out vengeance, 

if I do not forgive, if I hold onto pain, I always bear a grudge, 

only my forgiveness of wrongs done, of harm done can allow me to heal, 

now the wounds of childhood, the never forgotten past can repeat no more, 

maybe I live a lie, caught in my deception, deceived to accept love, 

as love of my childhood, of who I have become, is to accept myself, 

yes, accept my own role as a child whose mistakes were beyond forgiveness, 

never has my family, Catholic and Christian, offered their forgiveness, 

only it is for me to ask and to offer the peace of forgiveness, 

trauma remains rooted in my heart, much too deep to forget the neglect, 

cursed within this lifetime, my karma, my actions, as a child or adult, 

animosity asks to fuel the fire higher and higher, a bonfire, 

laugh if you remember my pyromaniac childhood need to act out, 

laugh if you know I stole from my own mother's purse to play video games, 

the wicked child does not realize wickedness remains in the conscience, 

only if I could find no fault in my actions and no judgment to find 

genetic behaviors as predispositions, without judgment or fault, 

enter paradise lost, life in Huntington Beach, behind our atrium, 

the entryway to hell, my own personal hell, as a child with parents, 

happy are they who hope, who have not forgotten how to hope for the best, 

enter my life, a child with alcoholism to face as an adult, 

remember my parents, the alcoholics choose to control their drinking, 

alcoholics do not care about the harm done to children, the trauma, 

cause and effect process the world by DNA, if you have faulty genes, 

only God can forgive what He once created, as God is my council, 

understand, I do not believe in God as you choose freely to believe, 

no, I must imagine a spiritual being beyond comprehension, 

create my own idea of God, to ask for love, forgiveness, to let go, 

if I could undo past mistakes, I would no more be who I have become, 

let go of my ego, let go of mistakes made, made over and over, 

take a moment to breathe, to meditate on pain, sorrow and suffering, 

only the past offers to forgive the living and the dead, the future 

forgives the present, past and future without trial, without condemnation, 

only the present knows the pain of my trauma, to let go of the past, 

remember my mistakes, I did not know better once I slid down the slope, 

grant me the chance to start over, to let bygones be bygones, the past past, 

if I could learn to love without condemnation, without judgment or trial, 

vengeance would truly be mine to resolve, my heart and soul covered over, 

eventually, either I forgive or I die, I must atone this life.