Author: rrishi99

Grilled for A

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I am the saddest thing
That is why I write.
I live the holiest life
That is why I diet.

I have the fewest possessions
That is why I read.
I want to sell the most books
That is where it’s all going.

I have the fewest friends
That is why there is zero.
I make the least amount of phone calls
That is why it is called Apple.

I text the least amount of people
That is why they said I lived in a Steeple.
I want to chase the most poetry sales
That is why I am not in Manhattan.

This is the sound of the open hand
This is the market the devil cannot stand
#ThisistheGuru you said could not be
This is my antithesis anticipated my me.

Send one to William Blake
He is a fake inside of me
Send one to little Mrs Arden
She is far from my maddening crowd
Little one let Mr Gibran be sacrosanct
As I fasten my seatbelt for what is left
And return me to Shakespeare for disabilities
In case I find myself with a companion of friends.

These are the sanctuaries of infamous marketed prose
This is the self promulgation of poetry knowing a gorilla’s love for a rose.

Gay Con

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It’s a gay consideration
It’s a warrior by your door
In the coldness of a winter day
To sell you smelly Dogs and nothing more.

It’s positively humorous
The lady in the lake of heavenly resonance
Who deals with the online poker taunts
To buy something so informant and keep us ticking along.

So many phone calls
So many books and cheese
On the dance floor where the angels fear to tred
And the murderers are an igloo of understanding in the red. Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssso what, I hear you say
Where the money is on the table and deals are ahead with trays
In the Churches where I bought my wayward soul with Waylan Lewis
To go forth towards the

Durga

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A normal anxiety pervades my kitty party
Where the cash flows wildy to please my sorority.
O.T. seasons ride hiding in the Super Bowl pricing
For an advert to my soul where the cost is tomorrow’s goals
In the company that analyses bliss
And forgets the sounded out price
The holy glacial meting ice
The terrors of fights in space
The loss of children in Chinese disgrace:
For Satan’s ____ hiss.

Count out the clock when the time said stop
And I could not work while the women went Twerk.
‘Tis the cause, ‘tie the cast
Men when they are acting are not last.
The Jerk (Simple IMDb) and “shithead” can experiment formally on Zee TV
< Mr and Mrs Bombay {(I dunno)} sell Sofas on ITV :: :: -à
“Come home soon!”
And the daughter left in the darkness leaving a hollow in the room
“I’ll be back before you know it!”

And the daughter laughed off emptiness so her Buddha Boy ‘shroomed
#Me
#Me
#MINE
“I am fine!” : Said the daughter
“I am watching Saif Ali Khan and thinking of you.”

The safe mother was walking about the table for more than Chai
When  she remembered the years gone by and times she felt angry rathe shy…
Such was the corroboration of the religious affair
While the daughter was opened to the public with Mousse in their hair.
Spray

Duplicity

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When I see my face
There’s such a disgrace
From the oldest place
Of 1983.

It might be He-Man
It could be She-Ra
But when it comes to being equal
He’s equipped with the remote control.

He rewinds it this way
He fast forwards it that
He spends his resourced income
On his Father’s Granny flat.

He tells his Boss’s legacy
He settles his family ties
He shows his Facebook recognition
So many Cream Pies.

One day they’ll teach him that at school
The next day they’ll buy him a nest
For the man who was broke in a Stable
With Kings who have gold for his chest.

Dr Deal

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If Indians are kings and Punjabis are A.I. Commerce
What is the difference in longing for some drama?
When the karma and when the Cola?
What is the demand supplying my throat?

Come to me for dependence and I will slit a goat
And stand by Hamas for a chance to sign a post,
Where the farmer eats toast and his wife drinks tea
And there is some simplicity for Guru Nanak, his wife and me.

This is the age of the nothing but spoken word
When the computer will drive the nuts and page blots totally absurd.
There is something so riddled about a passage from a book
When the lower class is up for grabs in the tale of a crook.

Who sees what he prints and who says what he does
When E-Commerce is artificial like the sail of a Tale of a Tub
Adrift on Johnathan Swift’s ocean for nescience with Guru Gobind
To tell of locks in the fashion of rape that pain the body for Jats and Singh.

Come to me again and dance like an Indian veil
Then there will be snookered Pavilions where the comity is Princely.
Such is the deviance of homosexual travails
That Dharma is lost for addresses to cry and wail.

River, Turn, Flop and 2 in the hand for Mohammed
There is nothing on show but a backwards fly over in Iran.
Then the news cuts out and the make up drips for tears
And the growth of the Guru wilts for percentage before the Khans.

Khans over here and Khans over there
Nothing but sheer waterage with the jungle booking Clearwater:
And then the election that very much all but one nut wanted
To Musharaff Imams to Lahore for one more 2012’s lonely male daughter.

Daintiest

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It has been millions of tears
Tons of conversation
There are milieu of mélanges
For the Dentist to hang around for some manners.

It identifies itself as someone who is ringing
The phone for demands and supplied brilliance
But not so long ago they were set apart
By universal competition that leaves us dangling.

Thus the man is someone who is dainty
And set aside in the harrowest narrow margin of tomorrow
Lest domicile nation is developing the mounting
Of some art on his wall to hang out as the best.

There had to be some rude words spoken
As the cabbie took the woman back home after struggling
Saving money walking there to have an extraction
Forming herself on the way back for kids after school.

Those were the bottle jars that used to store the brine
Where the master was a hero for the lips that sold up fine
And kept the clients rolling past if they needed less pain
Than a diagram of deliverance from the bloody staring man.

Has he been by to see you? since his European gait
To find himself more integrated
Listening to moreish talk about Empire:
Let him deal with his letters and talk to him later.

So many people high above the table
After some school that made it simple
How to be the class that was truest
To the Drs today with a to do list.

Control Again

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Contemporary to the age that I live in
Caged by the fashions I fail to live in
Controlled by the markets that get on each day
I am a vigil unto myself by the end of the day.

There is worthiness and there is worship
There is the rigmarole of the self.
There is homage and there is self awareness
There is here and there for me to be perfection in.

The teacher tells me the meaning of the verse
The director addresses the timing of the hearse
The website fixes the prices of my poems
And the neighbours advertise the size of their knowing.

Such is the development of my sad days
When money is not flowing like Niagra Falls says
And health deteriorates to the bottom of a rock
Where the crew is damaged like a flimsy dream in Iraq.

These are the hopes and fear of one frightful hour
When the urchin is emotional about serving God for an hour:
So who is in charge of the Temple where it is said
Pray to me, your Papal History, as long as I am read?

Come Back and See Me

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There is no time when I am fine
And the wind does not mention your name.
It is like the feather that fell, so far from William Tell
And told of Empires and other stories again.

The apple of my eyes and the shyest part of my life
So fat and tipped to win every race.
Obama disgrace and theatrical shamed face
How can you be Xanadu when tomorrow is denied you.

Sporty brassiere of the weariest traveller
Who does not allow the pear shaped marauder
To murder the time with benign gashed fashions
On the legions of angels still dancing around his heart.

This is what sets us apart as you spend for darts
Down the alley man’s pub so that Ali can’t stub it out
In Afghanistan wear the man is not wearing Pistachio any more.
You hiring type of fellow who knew my teas spent hello
So I could read of the transcendental mellow
Which blocks me from 3 pointers today.

This is what I say!
When the day is so long
That each nation has a song
And the charity to sing left
Is that right wingers have the gift
To see who will win the race
From time and chance in all places:
So that I was last but one
To my friend’s lonely song.

Cast Les Garcons

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Castle me this
Snack me that
Let the window
Show who is back
For more than a moat
That is a river for your fear
Of being without food
When multinational coffees are near.
Make the move like a Queen
And the King will be alone.
Cook prawns like a pawn
And the Rook will sound like a drone.
Then the majesty is in a filling
Like a sandwich made fresh
From a worker who is willing
To stand up to her hair in a mesh.
Modernise this
And modernize that
Food in the village
Is not so fearful of juicy fat
To warm the mornings
That add lemon twist with some tea
To frighten away ghosts
With some well-fed Spiritus Mundi.
Whether it is this or whether it is that
Eating a big breakfast is going down flat
After CoVid and the news about the end of the world
With no sarnies for me on the benefits
Lost as a poet without any girls…

Boomerang

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The way they live nowadays!
Oh, it’s something to see!
Declare it bloodily – between Beijing and Shang Hai on Channel 3
If there are four of us, will you massage my loins,
So that the lion of Daniel is flying my planes?

Ire
The ions of Zion
The complaint of a late period
The waiting for Oxford steroids
How were the Elections for you: Olympic crew?
Not so satisfied with Jai Santosh Mata for you –
Time
Uppity
& Chance.

{ But can HE dance }

He can dance the trip wire
And li[please the Elysium on a D String]
All I said was :
“And the coloured girl played you out”
Twist and Shout!
“Tits are out!”
#EchoTheAbsolute while you watch Das Boot
Malfunction the male function of a disjunction
Sell me a product robotically systematic in Japan
Land on the flag of an Island for the American man
Make me some Bombay blues for review in the news!

New things like this don’t bother me
I’m another Temporal displacement for the Agency.
She said she would be early
He left a little late
When I get back home from the bus full of Christians
I’m still just learning to masturbate.

The Great Danes of York
The daintiest dresses of Counsel
The frenzy of rhetoric down my blouse
A mirage of Oasis by the hassle free Living E-Room:
} Guru is Loungin’
{ Pharcyde is Punditry
@MasserBossman in the Foundry
Qn: The little man in the Mill on the Floss
Dental loss : One for the shoesmiths who lives down Brick Lane
… the commas are back again,
Repeat a refrain
Scar the brain
Scan the sans motif
Ban the Aperitif
This was not the medium
They were not the Colgate dream
Too fast!

Worry again –
Sell me this brain, Come back for Follow On, Mr Indian name
333 and 6 sixes
Why there is now China witches?
Can’t they just pay…
Wages
One
Day
.


Then there was a sea and a battle story for the old men
That told of wivery so that the behaviour was Omen
Then the nautious ideas of Poesies came to Michael Kamen
And told again for the need for riches to Eric and thieves.

Sell me again!
Tell me your mane?
“Quell my heart’s pain”
Listen to typing, Again.
There is Breakfast at Tiffany’s
But no Fiddler on the Roof,
The market know three storey’s higher than Wall Street
And J.F.K. second shooter is still not enough proof.

Poetry is encoded on the barren soul that leaves women blind
So they do not remember the door swinging when I went home very kind
And left a trail of disaster wherever I feared to tread
For the roses from tomorrow and what Llama’s might have said.
Clouds counsel widows
The measurement stifling in England
What is In in IN-Land
But revenue they lost …
Rhyme that.

Flatten that.
Spell that
& Buddha is Prayer.
Wash your own linen
& the married man is there.
Settle down man
Hua Mulan is free now of the Decogan
The march of the Angels is Chariots of fire
For the wireless Bra that she stands on;
8 Measures
4 Measures
Numbers Measure
Poets seek pleasure.

This way was spoken a death’s decree
For the mercy of errors of the Dharma upon me:
To hasten Byron for a safer passage than love’s crimes
Lest Science is Fiction that Millions cannot boon on time.

03/05/2023