Saturday 28 February 2009

On Much Of The Poetry That I Know

Much of the poetry that I know
I think is klutzy mush.
And that which is not klutzy mush
I think is mushy klutz.

Shelley's 'Lines To An Indian Air'
Is a good example now.
He said it was Champak-scented.
Well, I do not know.
All I can smell are diesel fumes
And fresh buffalo dung.
Klutzy mush and mushy klutz,
Ada dada da!

'fI recite 'She Walks In Beauty'
I'm eighteenth century.
Babe magnets wear rapstar bling
And do not sing of love.
L.G.B.T. B.D.S.M.
'S All they prattle of.
Mushy klutz and klutzy mush,
Ada dada da!

'fI speak of 'Lord Ullin's Daughter'
Or Wordsworth's Highland lass,
They'll want to know her Orkut profile,
Gtalk status message,
Who writes on her Facebook wall,
And what's her latest Tweet?
Klutzy mush and mushy klutz,
Ada dada da!

I narrate Haiawatha's wooing
Of fair Minnehaha.
But the arty-tarty lot
Appear at unease.
They ask for darker shades of grey
And whether he has angst.
Mushy klutz and klutzy mush,
Ada dada da!

Who has heard of D. H. Lawrence,
George Gordon, Lord Byron,
T. S. Eliot, Robert Frost,
Or Nissim Ezekiel?
They're not excatly Paul McCartney
Or Mariah Carey.
Klutzy mush and mushy klutz,
Ada dada da!

Poetry's dead n rock lyrics
are all that's left alive.
But oh! There are some people left
Who still write poetry.
Most of them are poetasters,
One of them is me!
Mushy klutz and klutzy mush,
Ada dada da!

Much of the poetry that I know
I think is mushy klutz.
And that which is not mushy klutz
I think is klutzy mush.

Agoraphobia

Freed from ceasless im-
prisonment, I suffer a-
goraphobia.

Ice

Incomplete shards of
ice melt into water drops,
complete in themselves.

Friday 27 February 2009

Might

What might that is ecli-
psed by a little silver
sphere that circles it?

Silver moon

Tiny silver moon
running rings around the earth
eclipses the sun.

Perception

Perception: a trick
the eyes play on a gulli-
ble brain that wants it.

Laptop bags

Der r mo
laptop bags
in d Bvli local
1st cls
ds dez.
Der s
no patch
fr populn
glitches,
s der?

Friday 20 February 2009

Canto Cassius Chaereae

Quomodo facti sunt tempora,
Incitatus fit Consul
in Imperium Caligulae,
et principes misi sunt
in agros mortuus esse,
vinum tanquam aqua fluit
corpora putescent in plateas
horror capet homines
et gaudium est in pectoribus
suillorum occisorumque.
Perdita est Roma,
perdita sunt tempora!

Tuesday 17 February 2009

Temple Day

Today is temple-going day.
Queue is long with hundreds
waiting to see me:

praying to escape from sins,
praying to get easy money,
praying to resolve doubts.

Outside one shop is there
selling flowers and coconut
to bribe me inside the temple.

It is selling little cushions
for cold metal idols to rest.
It is selling brocade dresses
for Parvati lined with jari.
it is selling little cradles
for baby God to sleep in.

All for pious believers
to dress up their Gods
as if they are dolls.

Am I a doll to be adored?
Am I a doll to be played with?
Am I a doll and not a dangerous king
who will be angry if
not looked upon with awe?

Doll-god? God-doll?
Mere idolatry
of innocent faith?

I want to sleep in the baby-cradle.
I want to rest on on tiny cushions.
I want to live in that doll shop.

Scissors

Give me a pair of scissors,
and I go snip, snip, snip!

Those ears that hear everything
that I don't want heard,
Give me a pair of scissors,
and I go snip, snip, snip!

That tongue that could never
bring itself to say a kind word,
Give me a pair of scissors,
and I go snip, snip, snip!

That nose that is never content
to keep itself out of my way,
Give me a pair of scissors,
and I go snip, snip, snip!

Those ears, those tongues, those noses,
The crude society they represent,
Give me a pair of scissors,
and I go snip, snip, snip!

Paper

Appointment letters,
visiting cards:
pieces of paper that say
I am CEO, Field Marshal,
Minister of Railways.

Pieces of paper with ink on them
promises, commitments, obligations
soaked into the fibre.

Pieces of paper that bind
in intangible chains,
light in weight,
stronger than fetters.

But pieces of paper burn,
Pieces of paper crumble,
Pieces of paper dissolve in water.

Commitments can wash away
Obligations get torn up
Promises go up in smoke.

There shan't be any visiting cards
or other pieces of paper:
there shall only be me
and my poems and my dreams.

Rock

Rock of the church
I am forbidden from sin.

Pillar of the establishment
I am forbidden to fail.

Prince of society
I am forbidden to seek myself.

Rock of the church
I want to crumble!

Pillar of the establishment
I want to escape!

Prince of society
I am just me!

Rock of the church
I shall no more be that.

Pillar of the establishment
I shall cause it to fall.

Prince of society
I am I, and that is all!

Hedonia

In Hedonia's life-
giving kiss, I forget
truth's sterility.

Truth

Truth is like the blots
on a Rorschach test - we see
what we want to see.

Saturday 14 February 2009

City or forest

City or forest,
fear and loneliness stalk me.
I'm hunted in both.

OR

City or forest,
I am afraid and lonely.
I prey in neither.

The Nile

Dyed orange sometimes,
Sometimes blue curaçao, the
Nile is eternal.

Jet-stream

Jet-stream across the
sun's orb: an artist's signa-
ture of man's hubris.

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