October 31, 2010

There’s One of me that hates

and an Other one that loves,

a demonic Duo is what I am

struggle wrest struggle wrest.


These are twins in my womb,

how, how did this come to be?


Rachel and Leah clash together,

Jacob grabs the heel of Esau,

One who stole the big Blessing,

the Other weeping, accepting.


So too it was with Isaac, Ishmael,

one stole the rights of the Other,

so Hagar deserted without water

could see the Disappearing Face.



October 31, 2010

A Silence of Goodbye

has swamped me

like lowing Thunder.


The Floor of Life

is covered by

Obscurity of Dust.


And it slowly creeps

in, a Black Plague

of Self-Doubting.


144,000 plus One

or minus One

pounding Hooves

of Rejection

leave Me low.


I am crushed.


I have lived enough

to know, interpret

patterns, Tapestries

of Manipulation.


I re-arrange my



You who will follow,

drink my cuppa

Tea of Bitterness,

read wind-blown

dry-leaf Remains.



October 29, 2010

May all the geometric sets

that caused me to suffer

all experience the same

that was gifted an Other.


Alone am I, at fifty-three

concentric circles empty

and no creatures eclipse

black sun in the gold sky.


All the tones they drank

from a Soiree of Passion

have turned into poison

spelling death sentence.


They ate up my gladness

and mocked my sadness,

and now they will also get

hurt, it’s what hurt begets.



October 27, 2010

Being hurt inside the Body is very good; one gets to see the real friend and enemy.

So it has been tested for me; I refuse to be anyone’s toy who has rules for me,

I do not accept their frozen simple forecasts, they do not exist except as images

and after you have touched their Mind, you know it’s useless. The strong dreams

worthwhile are those that are true in Body, as for the rest, no Body!


One out of a million, the odds are always against you as you gamble, the dice fall,

throw yourself away, a good life is different from what is Desire, Body is Desire

and talking about Desire is bullshit, Desire is what Desire does!


Positive thinking is just psychological rap, I choose the Negative, the not so boring,

not the human quotidian, I choose the Negative, you don’t know it or experience it,

don’t question the Minus, I live it, Body is Negative and the Mind Positive, but hail,

hail the Body as stronger, take it by horns, hips, penetrate it, let it cum!


There are many ways to know the many sides of Body, not just the little shitty bits

everyone knows or swears by and like sheep follow, and such people don’t matter,

I want to know who i am, stretch my limits, extend my digits, this is the key key,

the central question in Indian philosophy, “who am i?”, you can never know me

or why I am here; because I am Body and not your fucking Mind!


I am not avy, nor am I male, the Name just came like mist, the Gender the same,

so it goes on, Aura, Asura, no conclusions on this, there is only the self-journey

and many destinations Body leaves behind, there is no core, only onions peeling,

the passing in and through and not settling with, and then something more!


But I want to copulate with all women and animals, fish, reptiles, birds, insects, germs too,

Body is Mind, try it, this is the Negative side, follow only the Body, don’t split Intelligence

into Mind and Soul and Spirit, tripartite, that’s for the West to get confused by and to do

really, see where the Body rides, still the monkey-mind, and just fuck or just pee! .


A lot of things can happen, it is not just about wild sex that is excretion, let the Body

whisper truths like the birds alert before an earthquake hits and humans shit,

because one knows all that lies with and in the Body!


We have sacrificed the Body building buildings, tilling fields, but some of us are and some

are not and I am returning to source, it’s a quest, say it again, nothing is perfect

except the Body that knows to forget what Mind remembers again and again!


And my Body does it all differently, calls out differently each time, I never dance

the same way twice like a Mind that’s slow, yes, slow the Mind, accelerate Body,

it is the opposite only for those who concentrate, the thought-obsessed!


Be quick to catch the tricky little Mind-foxes inside the Body, “slay them”, some say.

I say: You have to be bloody quick to go with Body-flow and then you meet

your Body and many Bodies, those who bring Mind in are closed!


Mind interferes, Mind fucks Body, yet all is still eel-electric and Spanish Fly-buzzing

Body finds all are ready bodies; Mind chooses, analyzes, but Body can go

with any Body, many bodies, before or after; where Body is, Mind not!


It is a dangerous path that saffron Tantrics tread, playing with illegitimate Life and Death

to find Balance, one must not be more or less than an Other, but become one plus

One  equals Minus, or One multiplied or Two divided, dis-integrate, be yoked together,

stop all thought, chant the Mind-less sages!


I say: Let thoughts come and go, the Body flows better, it is the swaying, swinging,

singing, curved, heaving, welcoming, moving, dancing, hypnotic fecund bucking

wide hips of a wanting wanton virile woman!



October 25, 2010

Everyone compromises,

to “live” and to “love”.


Everyone is enslaved

by Laws of Conscience,

Laws of Convenience.


So, much is impossible,

nothing is really “Real”.


Whatever one imagines

or desires unreasoning

are Articles of Faith.


How can I be clear

about what I have

or lost, not found?


Dissatisfaction, urgent




Key of Possibility.




Yet, try to be one with God,

strive to be Maker-Creator.


Eros gets in the way.


One must choose

God or Art.


I have neither.


Must one be Arch-Virgin

to construct the Bride

from the Mass, Many?


Then, be an Outcast

on the edge

of a Galilean cliff

waiting for stones.


Pass through the Veil

Of Misinterpretation,

and in the emptying

of Time itself, let the

Mists of Love dissolve.


Eros, God, Art,

Alcohol, Drugs,

Sex and Yoga,

Mindless Prayer




Anything to get

the Brain to be

more than Brain







And Women,

the mystery



from Mother,

to Sister,

and Wife

and Daughters.


One becomes free

when one finds


But possibilities

like approaching

Storms, seduce.


Life revolves

by itself





One is never



It just happens

in complexes,



Who directs?



All Love is cold


kept accounts,

profit or loss,

trade, merchandise,


everyone is

a Prostitute.


One should never

give and take back,

give and abandon,

break the balance

“we are all human”.


Cutting away

breaks up

the Whole




End – Zero.



Intense and beautiful

is also a withering



and there is



This is “real” life,

they say.


Intensity is “real” Me,

the rest is “shadow”,

those who live there

sway and are laid low.


Eros is intensity

Night and Day


Morning Star.


Fear, Now.


Fire must not be

wasted on Water

except it boils,



Water fucks Fire,


is a Lie.


If one’s Essence

becomes another,

Death comes in


takes the Whole.


Pain fuels Fire.


Fire cremates.


Let me tell you:


this green planet

will turn red

as destruction

when Christ



Why? ask the Pagans.


The Pain




molten Fire,


the Pyre


Cleanses All.


October 24, 2010

i will always cherish my many

Skeletons of Love

laid to rest in golden coffins.


the curly, wavy, shining, long

tresses i’ve stroked dissolve

into talcum dust inside skulls.


the cold lips i’ve kissed to life

in dead nights leer blankly,

two rows of corroded teeth

that nibbled away my soul.


the mouths i’ve dipped into

are now full of a bad breath

of toxic promises; devilish

dances among broken ribs.


the erect nipples i suckled long

are sunken in deep recesses

behind ivory bars, black holes.


and there are the empty bowls

where lay succulent stomachs

this head once pillowed upon.


and there between the stillness

of bones that made so inviting

every upside down V V V V V


there is no sap or juices to lap,

no dense thick black growth

to entwine in, no up-thrusting


motions that urgently wantonly

meet my tongue; wanting hips

are bleached as wrecked twigs;


and dying suns imitate blazing eyes

to which hennaed feet cannot run,

and noone left anywhere to greet.


this well-tattooed forehead of mine

bears phoenix Sigil of the Outcast

“whoever slays me will also be slain”


i am condemned to cherish many

Skeletons of Love

laid to rest in golden coffins.



October 18, 2010

wherever the Body is

there ever you’ll find


the Man of Sorrows

the Rejected One

the Plucked Beard

the Whipped Back

the Thorny Crown

the Spat Upon One

the Marred Face

the Stumbling Stone

the Rock of Offense

the Law-Breaker

the Blasphemer

the Demon Possessed

the Illegitimate Son

the Cup of Vinegar

the Kiss of Betrayal

the Chopped Ear

the Harlot Lover

the Priest Hater

the Sly Sorcerer

the Temple Destroyer

the Busy Beelzebub

the Merchant-Bane


wherever the Carcass is

there ever you’ll find


the hyena

the rat

the raven

the vulture

the spider

the dog




Bread of Life

Light of the World

the Door

the Good Shepherd

the Resurrection

the Life

the Way

the Truth

the True Vine




an Eaten Rock.



October 18, 2010

If the Design







you See

of Me


The Invisible



where I Was



where I Am



where I Will



Deep calls






when you do not




it means you can


Not See






as the Design







October 14, 2010

Jesus was the Joyous


the Devious Screwtape



He stirred the mud-swill

of the ordinary Jordan

or tainted Sea of Galilee

into Wine-talk crushed

from his Red Blood Cells.


He ground golden Corn,

the Essence of his Body

defiled on the Sabbath

into daily Bread of Life.


He caught Fish to deep-fry

and sent everyone Home

full of his Sweet and Sour

interpretations to digest.


And a new Meta-narrative

taunted well-read Priests,

Scribes, Zealots, Lawyers;

the Tephillim of Knowledge

of old Eden and Paradise

fell into a living Abyss-Well.


So 30000 denominations

and perplexed Heathen

seek now to understand

the Kingdom of Heaven,

and 666, Bottomless Pit,

he thrice underscored it!


Long before our Einstein did,

he signed Parallel Universes

designed Special Goggles,

VR Games, the Big Spectacle.


He read against the Text,

re-Authored the Authors,

let loose the Reader-Dogs

upon the Flesh of Logos,

Derrida tailors a Tale-End.


We reverse an Ancient of Days.

We dine at Barmecide’s Feasts.

We traverse Vedic Fault-Lines.

We celebrate the Barren Virgin.


We chant Stories at war within.

We prophecy the Ruin of Fact.


We embrace the Guest as Hostis.

We proscribe the Un-Nameable.


Jesus was the Joyous


the Devious Screwtape





October 12, 2010

All grey hearts that deal death blows to love

themselves meet many grey loveless deaths.


Those warm eyes and hands that bruised souls

must accept now the bruising of its warm soul.


Depth-love brings forth fast fire-work of life

softly begets concealed wells of tenderness.


But whosoever poisons those happy springs

must drink from them white salty emptiness.


It’s possible to love manifold – one, two, three

all together, love make, rejoice simultaneously.


Bu to make any, some one discern this Primal

Law is nigh impossible, so, O, few are free.


O Waters of Bitterness are black, forged rigid

as hearts clotted with bad Blood of Jealousy.


As for Rain of Contentment? Possessiveness,

Envy, Greed, choke all high Divine Possibility.


Trade in bodies, souls bring Pain of Captivity,

Most know only exchange, repayment, gain.


Why believe in a strong Love that can sustain

when what all desire is only a Clever Bargain?


Still, the slave-trader’s merchandise is freed

once she feels the iron-heat of his branding;


No silver cage can contain a bird whose beak

is sharp and incisive to shred chains so weak.


The Slave may yearn to return to her Master,

She pines not for love but lives learned Habit,


A magic sigil burnt, etched in eyes, flesh, skin

that smells of ownership, obedience, sin, sin.


Betwixt one’s happiness and the gifted sorrow

of another, stalks an absurd Spectre of Choice,


Choose wrong and all that is left is sand, hollow

regrets, senseless abuse, silence fatal silences.


And yet all can be left behind, O let laughter flow

when you come gentle to the All-welcoming One.


The echoing wells can be watered, smiles grow

like green moss on walls, listen, let sadness go!


All grey hearts that deal death blows to love

themselves meet many grey loveless deaths;


But the end of those harsh tormented breaths

is to return to love, in love for love, by stealth.



October 11, 2010

The Art of Today

is Toady Art.


It’s as easy

as picking

one’s nose

and taking

out a piece

of snot,


sticking it

on hand-

maid paper,


a yellow


framing it

in pretext,



hang it in

pink air,






the sign,




The Art of Today

is Toady Art.


process is



is re-mix,



here nor


v 1.0, 2.0


non on non

day to day,

the cogno-




pink stink



Page 3


The Art of Today

is Toady Art.



October 9, 2010

I do not know how to speak

it’s better to be speechless

I do not know how to listen

better to gouge out my ears

I do not know what to see

better to be blind for ever

I do not know how to give

better end my generosity

I do not know how to walk

with others, better legless

I do not know how to love

better to finish with loving

I do not know to understand

better to be a nincompoop

I do not know how to laugh

better to let sorrow reign

i do not know how to heal

better keep hurt to myself

i do not know how to caress

better amputate my hands

i do not know what it takes

to be human, better be still

I do not know anything much

except to hang upon a cross

and drink my cup of vinegar.



October 8, 2010

“He was despised and rejected, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.” Isaiah 53:3


in an illuminated hour of darkness

in the incandescent hour of love


darkness is incandescent

love, illumined darkness


O Adonai, have mercy upon me!


in the decrepit prison of spirit

in an incarcerated body of light


light is decrepit

incarcerated spirit


O Adonai, have mercy upon me!


in the elasticity of human cunning

in the impossibility of communing


cunning is elasticity

communing, cunning


O Adonai, have mercy upon me!


in the endlessness of hopelessness

in the fulfillment of procreating


hopelessness is fulfillment

endlessness, procreation


O Adonai, have mercy upon me!


in the expectations of joy abundant

in an achievement of no-achievement


achievement is joy abundant

no-achievement is expectation



O Adonai, have mercy upon me!


in the blessing of being a blessing

in the rejection of having blessed


rejection is blessing,

blessed be rejection


O Adonai, have mercy on me!


in the chastening by the Rod of Time

in the bruises and wounds of Crime


Time is Crime,

wounds, Time.


O Adonai, have mercy upon me!



October 8, 2010

Deep from an accursed dim-lit jungle

came a Cannibal of Hearts

plying that old trade of hunting souls.


Stalking the green mass with an evil eye

he spied a bright-hued Macaw

with her naive blue breast, ready to die.


The loin-clothed Junglee in phallic attire

spun his Cobweb of Deception

to arouse the Macaw’s blinded Desire.


“Come to my lap, eyeless Macaw, delight

in my silken, sticky strands

that you milk from me each tropical night.”


As each syrupy word and each milk-drop

spurted to embalm blue feathers,

he cried, “Now, Bird, I’ve you, full-stop.”


I watched as the many-hued Macaw slept

as her burning feathers fell,

one by one, dropped drugged into a Well


of Non-being, Un-Personed, she struggled

as the semen strands enwrapped

her feet, breast, beak, wings, entrapped


in a Choice of Unmaking, her eyes drooped

and she grew stooped in the Cage

of Lub, while the rest of the Forest looped


with its furry, feathered, scaled, denizens

growing silent to hear tears drop,

until there was no light in her, no vision.


So first were shattered her blue feathers,

that spoke once of tenderness,

high, vast and promising as fair weather.


Then scattered her Green strokes of life

into Ashes of Treadmill Slavery,

tasteless dust the Junglee fed on as wife.


Her Red slashes fell as shrieks, bloody drops

waning into dirty brown monthly spots,

the woman’s Red fertility is dry desert crops.


Finally, her Yellow pools turned into bleak

marsh-pits, quicksand that sank her

lower, lower into cowardice and pale fear.


When I last saw her, there was only a Ball

of Nothingness tied with strings

she could not snip, a voice no longer sings.


A well-deserved death. The Junglee laughed,

“I’ve got my way, I’ve turned at will

Rainbow Macaw to Black Crow to do my will.”



October 5, 2010

Dance, for you’re free of Stupid Desire!

Dance over the Volcano that’s frozen.

Dance, for your Needs are disappeared!


Dance with the Wise Ones whose Love

dances forever, heals you from Above!


Dance on the hot coals of Abandonment,

Dance in the ripples of new-born Rivers,

Dance with true Lovers, ne’er the Liars!


Dance with the Wise Ones whose Love

dances forever, heals you from Above!


Dance to forget those ethereal Promises,

Dance at Horizons of useless distances,

Dance, rise from depths that suffocated!


Dance with the Wise Ones whose Love

dances forever, heals you from Above!


Dance in New Air, spit out green waters,

Dance on a golden Beach of Nothingness,

Dance in the pure Rains of Sky-Laughter!


Dance with the Wise Ones whose Love

dances forever, heals you from Above!


Dance, for a smooth Enemy’s hold is broken,

Dance, for the Sky-World in which you swim,

Dance, for you’re no longer the Sea’s Victim.


Dance with the Wise Ones whose Love

dances forever, heals you from Above!



October 5, 2010

The time has come for a timely Funeral

Celebration, the Festive Wake, drinks,

fireworks, pink candles, a hoary Feast,

Joy, Dance in a Trance of Forgetting!


But first, in the frozen damp ground let me

layer two Exiles, who causally departed

in carriages of raw, thoughtless desires,

riding a looping Train of  Purposelessness.


Such non-sense life always brings Surprise,

as well-embroidered invitations of death,

foolish Death has too many genuine forms

like this, one in bridal white and the tribal

laid side by side, stiff, sex-still, impervious

to each other in unseeing impotent sleep.


All their enmity was done when I was gone

at one End of it, only their unconsciousness

of the Other who loved lowered the ropes

on an ebony coffin, into an open grim grave,

two blotted-out bodies, fading, unsmiling,

unhappy in life, unhappy again in death.


And as I stood at the red edge of this End,

singing hymns of high praise to Anteros,

wearing my well-tailored raven-black suit,

in deep reverence, the copper lid fell shut

and I tossed over it sad handfuls of dust.


When all was over, it rained, my Ark rose

upon the tide, I sensed it steered safely

to new seas where no Siren song lulled

and the Warrior was as strong as before.


O Doldrums of Loss, begone! Trim the Sails

of Redemption, go to Feast from Funeral

laden with Treasures, filled with glad Epics!


Homeward! to share the spoils of Experience!

Homeward! to celebrate this Festive Wake,

drinks all around, pink candles, good feasting,

Joy and Dance in the Trance of Forgetting!


Escaping False Colors

October 4, 2010

I have sailed my drunken rolling ship between Poles

and along Parallel Lines, arid North to fecund South,

and have left behind the dead Blue for living Green.


True, inside the high Green is Blue, Yellow underbelly

Sea-snake that indwells the Sea, the poisonous mix

seemingly complementary, now unveiled, opposite.


I was confused because I thought deep, bright colors

were as they are, in harmony, joyful strokes, happy

Children of Light, till I saw their Origin in Secret Night.


I rejoiced in her Palette of Lies and how colors flowed

one into another, and the Song of Plurality sang holy

till I saw colors devour each other, run grey black ugly.


I’ve steered my ship away from that sullied painting,

black and brown of Earth in disarray, now a Dead Sea

watches my ship recede. rise, break Blue-chains’ sway.


Here I mix colors free of muddy waters, let lost souls mix,

melt together, fight inside slime, I permit their fatal play,

O Children of Night, die! while I enter the white Canopy

of Delight, touch freedom-Blue of Sky, quaff Green Rain.



October 3, 2010

I am Sky.


The Sea.


Sea is always with Sky.

Deliquescent. We are Co-mingled.

We meet at the Invisible Horizon.



The Sea is a Bowl of Tears.

The Sea is a Hive of Fears.

The Sea is a Valley of Unknowing.

The Sea is a Child becoming Conscious.


The Sea.


Sea, I have gifts for you.


I send Clouds, she touches Shadows of Cheer.

I send Showers, she dissolves the Salt of Pain.

I send Luminescence, she has Illumination of Life.

I send Zephyr, she receives Caresses of Peace.

I send Gale, she spins in the Vortex of Senses.

I send Brume, she stumbles midst Spumes of Desires.

I send Moon, she suffers in the Deeps of Confusion.

I send Birds, she listens to the Song of Heaven.

I send Rainbow, she unravels the Alphabet of Colors.

I send Thought, she wanders in the Maze of Knowledge.

I send Fishes, she feeds them into her Womb of Nurture.

I send Blood, she sends forth the Flow of Fecundity.

I send Shores, she laps at them or withdraws her Tongue of Favour.

I send Sand, she settles down in the Hollow of Contentment.

I send Seasons, she matures and eats of the Coral of Wisdom.

I send Night, she sleeps in my Lap of Love.

I send Labour, she suffers birth-pangs to deliver Children of Blue.


Come, Sea, take my gifts.

Come Sea, be enriched.

Come, Sea, bear my children.



I am Sky.


The Sea.


Sea is always with Sky.

Deliquescent. We are Co-mingled.

We meet at the Invisible Horizon.


October 1, 2010

my Drunken Ship is rocking rising

on a moving gray storm-led wave


i am high, I am carried far away


tumbling, disarranged, up belly up

on an angry scape, a delicate cup


is floating away, is wafting away


there were no orange life-rafts ready

let me see how far the Sea takes me


ride liminal waters, liquid ley lines

surf the zig-zag of fallacious words


that are dead winds, callous winds


this black, cold whirlpool crushes me

into ‘a child squatting full of sadness’


O ship, ‘fragile as a butterfly’, let’s flee


the Sharks of Unconcern gliding in shivers

to encircle wood in Teeth of Insensitivity


they gnaw at me, they feed on me, fie!


out of the whirlpool, out upon green wilds

my drunken ship holds steady, a sober me


dances lightly, sculling I’m free, I am easy.



September 30, 2010

the snail,

the swift,






flight, fall

bricks, quick.


watch gaps

grow, prise

afar words,

ice ice ice.


will not

want not


waste not

trust not


the snail,

the swift,











September 29, 2010

The wounded seer, I am a seeing-eye

of crystal. This is not play!!

Two red-winged nightmares enter day.


I gallop astride my blazing mad steeds

to supernal caverns of in-sight,

I smell the scalding, their might!


Be afraid!! A trial and a hunt have begun,

infernal shades storm in from above

with arrows of blood to pierce the dove.


Visions, envisioned without clear asking

are spawned behind four sewn eyelids,

a searing axe of judgment swings.


Two lying bodies, two hands clasped, two

black miles to ride, the wheel is broken,

nightmare-spectres have spoken!!


Blood on the road wet as starless night,

crushed steel sparking in starlight,

a fire of confusion two lives re-write.


Mutilated mouths in two shattered young jaws,

two legs twisted, love-ribs crumbled apace,

broken face kissing broken face.


What one believes cannot be, comes real!!

An archer spends a flaming arrow

realizing scorched flesh and steel!!


Listen, in the surly thunder and lightning

of hard hooves, this evening now lurks

spelt out, written, it does its work!!


Outside the ring of the Seer’s spirit-protection,

ride red-winged nightriders on a mission,

dread midnight’s deadly visitation!!








September 27, 2010

I did dance with a yellow-belly Sea-snake,

and mistook her cold blood for warm skin,

and that Saivite cobra’s deadly watery kin

led me down muddy-whirlpools at whim.


Her light-brown back was so silken smooth

and her lower part the brightest sun-yellow,

at a fork in her waterways was the blackest

patch which sucked sailors into caves below.


To tango with a serpent needed no courage,

her lidless eyes were expressionless & dark,

I sank like a dead stone with her into a cage

of hard naked bars that were subtle & stark.


I pole-danced for her in daytime and at night,

she hissed hypnotic dream-songs in my ears,

“I’ll love you always, do not fear, I won’t bite,”

said she to rock me to sleep with salty tears.


Thus began a yearning for a love that was more,

for a stand that was not unstable like her spine,

in her curves I now saw that a Sea-snake’s subtle,

supple-armed to serve poison masked as wine.


Her love-sighs and cold split-tongue-quick kisses

lulled me to sleep; I wondered how, narcotized,

her oar-like tail rowed me into absinthian mists

that coiled around me; shuttered a voice inside.


Down in the depths, her fangs stung, suckled me,

slew me quietly as I swam in the quiet coral Sea,

when she left me to mate with a dim Sea-monkey.


Now swim I alone with my fangs and millstone,

waiting to shed my burnt Sea-skin; she leaps

and frolics with octopus, squid, sardine, marlin,

while I drift upon waves ragged, jagged, steep.


If you walk on that shore where no lighthouse is,

listen keen, in the shrouded wind’s howling cry,

listen in the wind’s keening howl, you won’t miss

a silent hiss, I come like her to kiss you goodbye.

INI ORU CHAI KODU (Serve me another tea!)

September 27, 2010

Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


That’s how my gray cup empties

into emptier black vessels of clay


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


Thus customers come to pursue

harsh selfish desires, use re-use


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


My cup runs over,my flood recedes

and they return with nothing to lose


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


There are no payments to be made

Come, drink, laugh at me, go away


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


Your thirst is slaked, but mine remains,

lowly bastard customers, no one stays.


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


My cup is cracked with over-use, abuse

but content fills again, see those stains?


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


There is no price on this, but they state

“We’ve done you a favor, see our coins”


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


What does it matter to them if sky rains

hailstones of pain? They win happiness!


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


“Your tea is good, your old cup is strong,

You can accept red unhappiness for long”


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


Suck me dry once more, in my store

I have tears, milk, leaves, sugar-lore.


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


I do not need your services, I am free,

Tomorrow I close my shop, and leave.


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


Find broken cisterns, drink deep from there,

Forget me, my cup and fountain disappear.


Ini Oru Chai Kodu!


What’ll you do to regain my cinnamon taste?

How will you get back what you lost in haste?


Ini Oru Chai Kodu?


I will always find the bluest fountains

at the end of flow-ugly, darking days.


Ini Oru Chai Kodu?

Ini Oru Chai Kodu?

Ini Oru Chai Kodu?


Kadai’s shut, Kadai’s shut, Kadai’s shut


I’m not there,

I’m not there,

I’m not there.



September 26, 2010

when you cling hard to some one

love dies

when you weave time in and out

love dies

when you are an exit for any one

love dies


fishes slip by each other slyly

in the Sea

slimy creatures wring flowers

in the dark uncontrolled hours


when waves are silent, calmly


love dies

when they’re raging violently


love dies


in the twilight day light dies

in warm dawn the night dies


death is all that lives

and will be

death feeding on life

and will be

death devouring life


love dies

death lives

love dies



September 23, 2010

lie low in the grass with wise head bowed,

lion-ladies have brought my bleeding food,

gold jaws rip, crush, mince, grind  enough

and leave good bites for women, the cubs.


orange sun slides down over the dry veldt,

lie still, the breeze is still, twilight dies, still

let them lie, flank you, let slow sweat pour,

let warmth of hug-bodies fur purr purr purr.


the lazy, let one leave the pride to go over

to another; living to hunt is love, stronger

than lover’s heat, the rough tongue’s kiss

stays hidden in the grass, let it burn bliss.


there, in the distance, absence comes alive,

a presence draws closer, hot haunches rise,

metal shoulders carrying spring-coiled thighs,

silently thaw, fly aloft, tenderly a zebra dies.


Come, I’ll show you how to drag the carcass

pulsing yet with left-over life, twitch, pulsing

synapses collapse, tear apart a white breast,

lap up the red wine, bring innocence to dust.


living to hunt is to live stealth, unleash a death,

startle the doe and tear out wet saddened eye,

devour the firm heart, digest curled intestines,

roar so wide terror boils hot stars, a night sky.


don’t come to lie with me if you are tawny weak,

don’t mistake the quiet sleep for somnolescence,

don’t wander too far from the flames in my irises

to artifices, human fires, for Lion trails are dense.


September 22, 2010

I know striped hyena-women

whom one gently pries open

to peel off their blue skin

and peer one-eyed within


dry skulls. And kohl-lined brown

eyes swing as empty lanterns

that once burned and shined

before false life was enshrined


in the cold hyena-smiles

they half-curiously hide

silent the hidden taunt,

or let loose ghost-lies

that now guiltily haunt


i know hyena-huntresses

who devour white doves

with hot beaks and jaws

feast on chopped livers,

befriend dirty vultures


encircle, encircled, circle

i know dim hyena-hearts

that sprayed poison darts,

brought an end to a cycle


i curse the hyena-herds

of maids who like birds

gather for sour crumbs

to then quit, benumbed


peering one-eyed within

my own peeled-off skin

my nondescript imprint

and a deaths-head grin.


September 18, 2010

A scurrying squirrel I saw this morn,

whose wisdom brought me laughter!

Why live nailed upon a dark horizon

if orange-warmed dawn comes after?


Squirrel hands are happy, thankful

for all tiny tidbits ill-life has to offer,

How quick you run up a grey trunk

nibbling at the soft fruits you gather!


You go around, in small round circles

that noone notices or wants to enter,

and in such journeys you draw spirals

to whisper “smash Rejection asunder”.


You jump over walls and across walls

without lookin’ out o’er your shoulder,

I bound, I plunge, oh, did I just startle

you? I am just learning, my lil teacher!


With chirps of joy, I will sing with you,

chipmunk, sweet lover, morning dew,

I can leap, climb and twirl, smile, curl

up my toes in you, enjoy quiet slumber.


Thank you, my squirrel-love, how I am

grateful, you helped me! I bid goodbye

now to hard shadow-Fates, find a gem





September 15, 2010

One day as I sparkle-splashed in my Sea of Delight

and gyred and gamboled in translucent womb-like green light

a gorgeous Serpent swam up into her blinded sight

to embrace me, kiss me, caress me and suddenly a sharp bite!


Ten thousand jewels shone from its primitive head,

ten thousand shards of blue crystal arrows shattered the Sea-bed

and diamond fangs sank fierce into heart’s insight,

I sank as one swirling gasping fell flailing grasping at a dying light.


“Rest, Child,” whispered it, “my bite means to help

though it hurts deep, learn now how by yourself to heal,

and I am beside you well hidden in the brown kelp.”

In sinuous sweet swishes it drew across Sea-eyes a veil.


Four months lay I in that greenish well breathing deep,

twisting and roiling in the grey maelstrom, fish swarms, Sea-weed,

and oft in my dreams the Serpent appeared in my sleep

whispering “Am with you, you are strong to take my lashes indeed.”


“What pain?” thought I, “this poison is strong to paralyze

electric eels, manta rays, sharks, whales, deadlier than cyanide,

it doesn’t kill, it only chills my marrow, bones, loins, thighs,

it feeds upon and punishes my fat, fathomless desires denied.”


I called out to the Sea, “Understand me!”. She had only waves

for kisses. “Let the surf sing you lullabies, toss trapped in her waning tides,”

they hissed. Beneath dark ringlets the Serpent laughed in caves,

and sent me a Giant Squid that squirted o’er me ink-black liquids, besides.


“Oh, where is the day-dawn into which I may ascend, where the Sun is

golden, not greenish?” “If you steal his jewels and crush the Serpent’s hood,

you’ll be free,” whispered a Goldfish. “What weapon do I use to do this?”

“Just utter the Word ‘Peace, be still’ and you’ll overcome the Evil with Good.”


So now I am still, in the Sea-bosom, STILL, laughing at the Old Serpent

helpless, hood withering in the Wind, prophesying the wanting wandering Sea

and her future as Desert, watching Sea, Serpent-strength recede, spent

sand running to my Spring to be reborn as Sea, off-Spring of the Living Tree.

I am I AM

September 15, 2010

I am Shame. I am Guilt.


I am Prison. I am Bait.


I am Sorrow. I am Hurt.


I am Hate. I am Hate.


I am Love. I am Loss.



I am Dirt.



I am.


I AM Love. I AM Faith.


I AM Hope. I AM Food.


I AM Joy. I AM Peace.


I AM Water. I AM Life.








September 14, 2010

I have again now closed myself

a cloistered book upon a shelf

as thought to ponder arc lines

and circle around spiky spines


I chant about my slow seeking

for love in all in all everything

the way of a man with a woman

the mysterious, not-so-common


I can do an old-love-the-young

thing and a young-love-the-old

fling, or how the old older order

knows the difference as another


What is this going forth turn

to come back in, out, re-turn

the sidestep, the side glance

the fluid piercing of a lance


the side that bleeds all right

the one that cut deep all left

the grating of a yellow wheel

upon open eyelids slit by steel


The night is burning, I am free

Flipped outside in, pages flee

across lines, between the lines

Slip in out in to find my splines


The wood’s blazing, smoke careens

o’er paintings behind lies, screams

the shelf crumbles, my words remain

pulsing animals in this forest domain


I have again now closed myself

a cloistered book upon a shelf

my wood is burning, I am free

ripped outside in, pages flee

I close myself, cremation chimes

an end for lines between rhymes.


September 13, 2010

In my soundless sleep

I was silent, strangled

In the depthless deep

I did drown entangled


In my soundless sleep

I was taught a wonder

In my dreamless keep

I was taught surrender


In my soundless sleep

I tasted a bluish blister

In my weightless heap

I drank the wine bitter


In my soundless sleep

I sewed up my eyelids

In that senseless leap

I lost the gambled bids


In my soundless sleep

I bit my tongue denied

In my graceless sweep

I found a legless stride


In my soundless sleep

I ate two ears forlorn

with a spineless cheep

I smashed a sun torn


in my soundless sleep

in that senseless leap

in my graceless sweep

in my weightless heap

with a spineless cheep

in my dreamless keep

in my depthless deep

in my soundless sleep


less less less less less



August 21, 2010

Some of us are strong to love many, many

all the time

Some of us are damned to love no, noone

any time

Some of us are gladdened to love any, any

one at a time

Some of us are sealed to love but one, one

for all time.



August 19, 2010

eyes shining head uncrown

lips laughing hands unbind

legs running tongue finds

ears listening cheeks bitten

heart cheering lungs longing

loins unbound hips swaying

ass swivelling nose upturned

breath burning calves ripple


eyes beseeching


thighs unlock

eyelids closing

eyelips close



lids lips





August 14, 2010

You can hold each other, cuddle up close

with the thorns and fragrance of wild rose,

but no fucking good will ever come of it

for in another’s loss, you now win profit.


He can kiss heaving breasts and full hips,

thirstily drink sweet juices of nether lips

and no fucking good can ever come of it

for you give but a bit dredged from a Pit.


You can hug dreams of being happy, needed,

only to reap horror-grains of sadness seeded

and no fucking good can ever come of it,

a Blind One isn’t saved e’en by your spit.


You can make pink-cloud promises that stink,

erase them easily the way water dissolves ink,

and no fucking good can ever come of it

if these are the love-memories you emit.


You can kiss his blackened hungry wet lips,

Grab his cock, erect him, suck pulsing prick,

but no fucking good will ever come of it,

for you open Stygian doors with no exit.


You can tilt the balance, break the Cross-beam

justify, reason, calculate, promulgate, scheme,

and no fucking good can ever come of it

for behind you is a corpse with throat slit.


You can run from the lover who will not pursue,

or hound another in the black charms you use,

and no fucking good can ever come of it

for behind you lies the body you’ve stript.


You can seek to escape the avenging red angel,

the Watchers who watch o’er the Circles of Hell,

and no fucking good can ever come of it

for you’re Anathema, and didn’t have grit.


You can run to your mother or mountains to hide,

You can dig a deep hole and bury your love inside,

And no fucking good can ever come of it

And no fucking good can ever come of it

And no fucking good can ever come of it


August 11, 2010

An hour’s dead rest

this free spirit gets,

in that sweet hour

I am always blest.


The other terrible


Are torment, bonds

Dread, misery.


“How was this done?”

The Fool does ask.

“A Destroyer came

in a Healer’s Mask.”


“What did She speak

to render you thus?”

“My barren Love will

scorch you to Dust.”


“Why didn’t you flee?”

The Fool asks me.

“If I did, where from

would birth Poetry?”


“What scars are these?”

The Fool persists.

“The marks one bears

whom Love afflicts.”


“You’re wounded. Free?”

The Fool mocks me!

“I’m taught to bleed

and love an Enemy.”


An hour’s dead rest

this free spirit gets,

in that sweet hour

I am always blest.

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