This poetry collection was published under the name Akaash Rishi on Amazon Books in c.2020

He’s a real world academic

The man by the Master’s side.

Snide for all the faults in the world

Vowed to save all the boys and girls.

Do violets give thanks for their rain and sun?

Then Nothing is telling the Son of what I have to begun.

The worker will program

The defeated computer

Manufacturing is nomadic

After Krishna’s magic tricks:

– incarnate, Avatar, yogi, boss-level and the way of Fu Manchu

Rebirth is Grace

Not Birmingham University.

Destroying the social order

Nice try

Trumps! Worldly Wise Bush and admiralty Barracks!

Hashtag you’re not it

The Guru passed you by

Om.



AI Summary

The poem confronts false authority — academics, gurus, leaders, and institutions that claim mastery but fail to offer real salvation. It contrasts divine rebirth, grace, and mythic lineage with the mundane failures of universities, politics, and social order. The speaker wrestles with the gap between spiritual promise and worldly pretence, searching for a path untouched by ego or hierarchy. In the end, it becomes a gesture toward authentic guidance — a recognition that true transformation comes from within, not from those who “passed you by.”

Tickets at the movies are empty for the Drive-Ins

The UK without the pick-up lines of Fall Guy.

Colt

A dramatic bolt

Frankensteinian

Devilry in the delving of reviling love

Sent from above

Like queen’s a carriage behind,

Needing a jacket from her dear

Puddles. let me finish 

Whether I go short or long

The quip is not my song.

And they are as liable in courts for extortion

Like time is the genius.

I have given you cosmology

And you spit at The Ritz.

Tap Tap

Put it on, show ‘Chicago’ (IMDB)

Stage a Fight at The Almeida city.

Time.

• Hot off The Press wasn’t Red Fords.

Water can’t have a gate of metal,

So mettle shouldn’t be tested

• Every day.

Editors. Business Interests.

Then the mind will get : a cheeky pudding

As also Leo & Stan got.

a Time to remember 

Someone spoke some sense

When they compare you to the guardian Guru

Look at their daughters’

What about her pounds and pence?

‘Queen’ (IMDB)

DiscMan. DJ: Timed|plays Jacobean to [                  ] as Napster.Com says: What the Enron did your student loan expenditure *Bleep* know

Way back when…

– the class o’ jack o’ lantern was 99 red balloons for SteveMacGumavitch’iya and Indigo Children/ Slides and frames of EVe’S bLuFf/ Why not sleep on the rough in Soho?

Soho is Crouch End:Settling London scores again

“Ruffian”. Keep that a hundred

And see your violent then.

Lazerbeak set me back a Pony from the afterlife

To pay for a stretch of Kal Penn.

Shawshank:

Why didn’t the Guru tell the sells

Report this ad

Redemption:

Because the quotes don’t fit from Guru Granth Sahib to the wit of Aqua parks in every knifeless land.

Time. The phone grab

Fast forward the action replays and stays for critique of funny chic,

Let the children shop

So the adults can one day,

When the mind faces time and globalisation protests.

Fragments a fragmentary I-Ness of the Nessie like a Loch that is missing the key to a friendly wholeness.

.   .   . Shattered is the trust

With no book

So the verse rings on

To take a look

Shattered!!!

Like glass shards falling down in an innocent glasshouse

Hated.

Some loves are not common

Like the love of husband and wife.

Chocolates and flowers  aren’t to Afford

Some religious strife relating the repeating

Of the religious. Rising.

Dissent of a King living within, Glories that punish Him.

AI Summary

The poem moves through shattered narrative — movies, music, myth, and memory breaking apart into fragments of longing, satire, and disillusion. It shows a world where culture, commerce, spirituality, and art collide, leaving the speaker caught between glamour, violence, and the ache of what cannot be repaired. Time, trust, and identity unravel through references to cinema, gurus, London streets, and globalised chaos, revealing a self trying to hold coherence in a glasshouse of falling shards. In the end, the poem reaches toward inner restoration — a hope that beneath rupture, dissent, and mythic punishment, something whole might still be possible.

It’s a negative energy that follows me

A dissuading of Thomas of the actions.

Men in power and authors gazing

Through their trips and ecstasy

Exhilarators from the eyes.

Why didn’t you choose me?

Sayeth the Indian Devi

In loco parenti for her lonely Deva-Day

Jayanti! Lost like a singular flame in a falsehood.

Children at Christmas weren’t need

I slaughtered my homework

The movies were to read

Scripts on the floor

The Radio The TV Times that were for me

Before History needed the Creator

In the seems of Law

Judged by

The meaning of contemporary

Reflection

When are inflexions I?

Inflexions don’t pay for have to

Injections parole

Label MMR vaccines

More was never enough

The [          ] wanted it tough

[            ] is his King and belittler

I heard no praise of no-one.

Non-leader to the Father

Miracle pace of life

Undoer to the reliable V.A.T.

Do you accept your wife?

I can do attitudes

Will as you through and through.

Expectant of a mew

Meadows were there,

Captains of industry have the boldness to blonde hair

When the hours have afforded your sons fair literacy.

Music for the Madame Fame who lives down by the lane,

Society was the father’s discussion

Munchings and peelings

Ireland went reeling

Such a beautiful flag

A country wife and her hag.

Inevitable

The strain

On medic’s brains. Shoe laces have grown big today.

Its not mine to take away the fib

That Genesis wasn’t laughed at

When he saw Lesbians on IMDB trib and said it was good.

I forgot how good it was

To not be someone else

Taliban.

Handler man.

What caste associates the water dam

A project from Lapland dancing on their fears

So erectile distinction can distinguish

The Eros love graffiti with Agape.

Acceptance is the new age that Piccadilly swears,

“Alexander The Great” : & how bad this is getting.

AI Summary

The poem moves through negative spiritual weight — a sense of being followed, judged, and misunderstood by powers both human and divine. It blends childhood memory, religion, medicine, politics, and myth into a landscape where identity feels fractured and constantly tested. The speaker wrestles with expectation, ancestry, cultural pressure, and the strain placed on the mind and body by modern life. In the end, the poem reaches toward acceptance and clarity — a hope for release from confusion, fear, and inherited burdens, even as the world grows more complex.

At first the idea is rejected,

Another man had something else in mind.

Then, choices find and define

The missions.

Sacred is then a journal

Of ideas that keep him in the keeps of jeeps.

Outside of a marriage, what carrying is Godless sleep?

The years are not the rupees

So fears are conjecture;

Pressures are 24/7 the peaceful warrior

From the Ayes of a definition that CULT

put down women’s purrs about:

Book Thief.

AI Summary

The poem traces rejected beginnings — ideas dismissed, missions reshaped, and a self trying to define its sacred work outside the confines of others’ expectations. It moves through marriage, fear, pressure, and spiritual identity, showing how culture and hierarchy distort the voice of the “peaceful warrior.” The speaker confronts how institutions, cults, and social judgement silence women, reshape meaning, and complicate the search for authentic purpose. In the end, the poem reaches toward inner authorship — a recognition that the true journal, mission, and definition of self must come from within, not from those who tried to put it down.

Ideas drift in a sea of space

Cost is rejected by the disappearing race

Another man had something else in mind.

Then, choices find and define

The missions.

Sacred is a journal

Ideas keep him in the jeeps.

Outside is a marriage, carrying a carriage

Sleep, the years are not the rupees

So fears are conjecture,

Pressures are 24/7

The peaceful warrior

From the Ayes that have it

Of a definition of CULT

Put down the women’s purrs

A Book Thief lulls in a godless deep.

AI Summary

Your revised poem tightens itself into a single, drifting current — a meditation on vocation, rejection, sacredness, and the quiet violence of cultural forces shaping a life. As a paragraph, its movement becomes clearer: ideas drift in a vast sea of space while cost is rejected by a disappearing race, another man’s intention overriding your own until choices begin to define the mission; the sacred becomes a journal, a private scripture that keeps him moving in the jeeps of his own restlessness, and outside the frame of marriage he carries a carriage of godless sleep, where years refuse to convert into rupees and fears dissolve into conjecture under the relentless pressure of the peaceful warrior who lives inside the Ayes that have it; the poem turns toward the distortions of cult definitions that silence women’s purrs, and ends with the Book Thief — a figure half‑accusation, half‑confession — lulling in a godless deep, suggesting that ideas are stolen, inherited, smuggled, and reborn in the dark where the poet keeps writing because the sacred refuses to die.

Avatars are optional extras like their objected hate
“Woman” who has identities need the compassion weight
Exterior are posteriors to revelation that states the nation
Addressing the crowd pleaser
With the healed drug user
With a lone lone range gravitas from film
That fight.

Dwell in the different and entangle the neighbour
In a confronting press release
Mastery is found in the feeling of grounding
Fault lines are of a need that see,
The arts of the world planting seeds for tomorrow’s youth
In the first breath that the brat that fears for the nation.

Quandaries are from immigrants are immaterial
Lokas with the Beatles inhabited evolutionary strains.
What you think
Is.
What you say, is a Mc[ ]eyism.
“Salaam!” in the parking lot.
Thought word deed, if you please
Mr Ishwara Allah Sita Raaaaaaaam!

Squares and squats rolled the moss for acquittal
Ignorance is bliss like the bass and guitar
Challenging the scene
In an Oasis that cleans the dreams for galaxies to squeem at the openness
Of parenting responsibility
Cash has questions
Superstardom can make people irrelevant
Matters of material mother’s have is fallen.
On the world to do with you

Food

Mastication

Elbows on tables

Let it be!

The ‘we’ we can win, thanks for letting men in.
The meditation is fine
Like music understood, with classically balanced faces
Superlatively rearranged in time.
My brain is fried on a cooler that try a touchdown;
A run down would go down great
If I solved the problem of hate I loved to create!

Cultural icon,
No one else could be
Fashionble
Indecision
Rolling Pins Index.

AI Summary

The poem moves through cultural entanglement — avatars, immigrants, musicians, parents, gurus, and neighbours all woven into a restless search for meaning. It shows how art, fame, spirituality, and everyday life collide, creating fault lines where identity, responsibility, and desire blur into one another. The speaker wrestles with grounding, compassion, material pressure, and the problem of hate, trying to understand how culture shapes the self and how the self shapes culture. In the end, the poem reaches toward inner balance — a hope that meditation, creativity, and honest self‑reflection might resolve the chaos into something whole.

This is Planet Earth,

Pa Pa Paa Pa Pa Pa Papa!

The role of religion is getting worse;

That is an order for reordering

The Print does not return these generations,

When it only extant the voice of betrayal

To the nation.

The organ wasn’t a grinder at the tables

Pistols weren’t allowed when History was orally transmitted,

The Damsel defendants in the pews for remembrance

Those who wished for better.

Keep the whet and cuddle Raleigh

Advertising on the Web condolences to the jee

What Males you thinking?

Maker.

Creator.

Legal degree displeaser:

The difference between you and me is M&American

Fo’Sho Sushi first

Jude is the worst.

She’s got to hide your book away.

Biography at Oxford City and the confessional style of tripe

Laughter from me about Jizz in Birmingham City

Where the Blues were routinely promoted.

Science is not for parks

That is for the skater to reverse the roles

And turn back time on the attitude of rebirth and rhyme.

Falling was for them and the dome bowl cut

Before ‘American Pie’

Upped the ante and remembered

The post village door to door sales.

A globalised Gob from shit in whines and snobs

St Johns won’t be coming home

Need is their cables, wires, refurbishment, wringing are their ables

The towel on the head of a survivor,

Vales of underlining glory

Alive in the harassment of virtue that governed patents to sleep

Children are away for schools tomorrow

London is on watch for sorrow.

The Thames is alert to Avon

A Reservoir is not Semantic

Ownership to the raven is for the majority

Sharing holdings in stakes of Vampires

Bloodying the Walls of West Egg

Ministers are never Privileged.

Do I like that?

Larks Ascend

Crying for Eastern bliss

To vilify the battle of intellect

Those who pay for governed fees.

Air on their knees no more

Death Row is on Zone 1’s door

Last section the edifice of education departmented the web-ification of Ovulating delicacies

To mix.

Style and general self

The Jungian cock crowded twice to the do well crew.

AI Summary

The poem moves through planetary disorder — religion faltering, institutions cracking, and culture dissolving into noise and betrayal. It blends myth, media, politics, and spirituality to show how identity becomes scattered across cities, histories, and digital worlds. The speaker wrestles with intellect, heritage, education, and the weight of modernity, searching for coherence in a landscape of chaos. In the end, it becomes a meditation on inner meaning — a struggle to locate purpose amid global confusion, cultural fragmentation, and the fading of old certainties.

What incarnation of God is Id

DR Jones or rival receipts?

There’s plundering in themes

Revisions with Iran

Stones are alive

The cheater knows Jungle Jim and multiple Tarzans.

Living stone clothes a mean debate

Shy is the life in me

Of welcome Hindu property

Aside the broken sand of bones on sad dry cracked earth by remains

That forsee, the steak living like ham that is a burger for my little buggers

I don’t eat Beef.

Either Neither

Nether Regions …

Poetry wasn’t my high school graduation.

Prom Queen

Set your spice apiece

For release

Balti in Smelly Oak. Removed.

Airs on G Strings

The time of fine arts. Martial oriental.

Monkey Magic

AI Summary

Your poem asks what incarnation of God the Id might be — DR Jones, rival receipts, plundered themes, revisions with Iran — as stones come alive and the cheater who knows Jungle Jim and multiple Tarzans becomes a symbol of myth recycled through pulp; living stone clothes a mean debate, and shyness becomes the life in you, a welcome Hindu property set beside broken sand, bones, and cracked earth where remains foresee the absurdity of steak living like ham, a burger for your little buggers, even though you don’t eat beef, drifting into the neither‑either‑nether regions where poetry was never your high‑school graduation; Prom Queen energy flickers, spices set their piece for release, Balti in Smelly Oak removed, airs on G‑strings recalling the fine arts and martial oriental aesthetics, before the poem ends on Monkey Magic — a final wink toward myth, mischief, and the strange holiness of pop culture as scripture.

Drugs were inevitable

Indebtedness is older than nature

Searches do seem and seek

Then talk

About the void of sexual responsibility

If money was their addiction

And addiction was their diction

A

dictation

S.O.S.

.. 1914 / 1942 / 1066 / 1642 

The Rostrum did Nostradamus

1980s / 1997 @ AOL.1947.LLP.com

Dictaphone is not Vedic Society manifestation

ISKCON is the history they pay to tell their microphone.

Leave ‘the talk’ alone synchronistically and the beer breath of a man called Gods

My Psychology for PsychChrists

In the in-ness of 2023

Porridge is for proactive investment in the uploaded cafe far from my seat in life

Swaying like their Radha TV

Prabhu explained

It would have been nice

If that was Guru-Ji.

AI Summary

The poem moves through cycles of addiction and history — drugs, debt, responsibility, and centuries of conflict echoing through personal memory. It critiques how religion, psychology, and modern spiritual movements distort meaning, turning guidance into performance and prophecy into paid narration. The speaker wrestles with identity, expectation, and the ache of wanting a true teacher in a world full of microphones, markets, and misinterpretations. In the end, the poem reaches toward spiritual authenticity — a hope that the real Guru, the real voice, the real clarity might still be found beyond noise, nostalgia, and the strain of modern life