Enlightened Yoga

Do I fear you if the crude fact is exact
In the exactitude of being rude about attitude
When the lyric and the ode is so small
To the point of meaning at the end of my nose?

Did you follow me there to care about the hairs and bristles
Now waxed with a Turks’ fine thistle and weeds
Of a tortured inept feed of employed luck and di-granteur
That deepens mans health for the wealth of the Minotaur.

Go with him! Settle your debt with the crossbows that tale the affair.
The journey is of an over-ness too quickly and ‘these days’ does not descend,
To my male friend to make amends for the political discrepancy
Of how I was Lemurian first and he grew up with Gulliver’s worst?

Tolls are on bridges for the talk of a long marathon of wife and child
Redressing the imbalance of Disney in Paris for the eagle eyed mildness
Of temperate investment in a European affair of not being One Money
always spending, always shopping, always love and drink some (More?)

There was a show on the dancefloor and the market moved to freedom
Hours were spending time with children for extra examination
But nothing moved their French and German to Herman Munster
And a friendly smile for the American crocodile that grew up unrhyming ‘Alligator’.

See the confusion? Spot the protrusion. Aeons from now: It’s a beaten cow.
There is there and that is that, so this is this for them to be them.
Sociology and Weather Reports do not respect my evening escorts
So why do I repeat myself to time that does not love me?

Love me now, again, awhile & let’s sing of Krishna and lonely dancing styles
For he is learned of the Nigger and a race so profound
To have conditioned Indian women for romance that is not brown.

Again. To the step. Let’s have one more from Spike Lee:
What is the perfect Fall for a sonagram from Thee?
Your God gave you a Father and your sons are gangs with delinquents:
Let me catch up on some demographic bliss with Theresa May
About how Amal knew St Hugh’s with her equivalent.

Is this what was meant when the 1980s got spent, one day at a time,
Eckhart Tolle’s crime – Now is when I say Gibraltor –
Tomorrow is when my friend’s wife’s client enlightens a halter neck?
What the heck? And can you inspect a reject of John Singleton’s assured fashion?

See that now, 7 years in tow, like a Tibetan film & Heinrich chillin’
What is the Master, who is the student, DPhil Potential and an O.T. ruin
British Mental Health, 4 hospital acquittals, my arse and your face
More Colonial than you can shit on.

Please sit on the mat. Questions that. I’m a minority report
Before I am a law in Tort. Your children know you before a clue
About the Crown in Courts that I paid to resort to for a career
And my fears of economic disaster when you the black became my (Psychiatric) master.

Boss. Man. Lonely friend. Do that again when I am worth my end.
Yours is not the Christian or the NHS: Jesus gave us his best.
What is a Pharoah but a holiday to an equipped man
And where is the Socrates but some bytes in your M&S land.

Was it my Degree and loss of millionaire ambition
Or was it your S.P. and wife with her child’s A-Level revision.
In such darkness made up like the colour of your face
How much Satanism is coming for the end of your disgrace?

So dunk with Jordan at 92, this is not a time for the Buddha in you
You don’t like The Bhagavad Gita and Krishna is a clown
So raise your first fists again with opposable thumbs to keep The Olympics down,
Quick runner, unopposable leader, what is the land mass of Christian true?

If it’s more than a Muslim will you take the Jew on with it:
And as for the homosexual Dr in the office, can I get a clue for his Clooney revisionist?
Is this man into The Monuments Men for some dope art?
And does he want Depakote to raise Acidity and Ph for knowledge of fart?

> PJ Harvey >>>>

This is the time of CoVid and wisdom
So lend me some fears and lyrics to dis them?
What is option when China is not Africa
And who started the disease when all I heard was black laughter?

Description

Comparison was made
The elevation was laid
Screwers were implanted
In the torture chamber of my heart.
The art of At-ness
With a loss from Atlas
Only those who spoke well
Could dip their ink in the right spoken well
Like an unrepeated clause
Of those who train animals on all fours
To fight their fights.
The word: FIGHT. Removed.
Beloved in the bereavement
There is no deceiving
In the relieving of a nation trembling
Before the Department of Darrow and Work and Pensions.
Obama is hollow
The crow is said twice
Judas is a Christian Creationism
And Reverend Wright knows the Telos of 9/11.
The world, meanwhile, Created:
Soppy poetry
Debates
2012 – Donald ducked “the greatest”.
I was not there, he said
She said
They rhymed
Children went to bed.
Churchill was sponsor-ed
And a Queen kept her head
Stamp
Duty
Free
Fiefdom.
The aim of land with Earl was not Pearls
The loan of aloneness from Rohan was girls.
Tolls from Eckhart Tolle were akin to the kindness
Of a Dalai Lama with blindness for the Sex On The Beach
Out of reach
Just in range
The EU has lightbulbs again
Environmental frames
Glasses and champagne
Add some sarcasm for a change
Jobs are rearranged
[Some employment]
Careers are for carers
Now is the time of our discontent
That is what Chinese Human Rights must have meant
Ties and blithe remains
And days with the sun overhead are ahead.
It is time to find out what that means instead
Of some fashion show offs on Instgrammar…
… WTF?!
Do you stammer at Kyle Jenner
100 Million remembers
Change you can believe in
D – J
Are you in? with the Royal Djinn
Or do you woke with some Bombay Sapphires
And dreams of A.K.A. Awakener, Enlightener and 2020 Messiah
And handled John Barry the Jerk Chicken worker?

Mothers were creed
When the lathering was feed
Before The Times was split
Between the newness of York.

Can the girls of Manhattan know the Stork?
Is there time for a Long Island Ice Tea when Twinning is bezerk?
How do your stocks grow when I was not facing my books?
Do you send love to Golum for the riddle of my looks?

Honour
Cheese
Gimp
Fried Food
China-Man.

It’s all the same to me.

The race war turned racist
When colours left TV.

There was no room for me
I was in for some gentility
Maths, Cosmology and my A.B.C.
Leave a light on
There was a cooler on Radio 3.
R. Kelly had that vibe at the Wolverhampton Civic Hall
And Mica Paris my One Temptation when Birmingham was Town Hall
Midge Ure was Symphonic for some Pure {John Doe} Love
And Larry Adler predated strip and search on Broad Street with his Harmonic Convergence and sound of a glove.

TDK
Are you P.K.?
Can India play?
Or has Lagaan had the day?
Judgement and the Iraq karma –
War Reports and no lady’s dharma
Stammer
I might rush your love
Could you get me to  a coronary
Some ice would go well this Insurance is swell.


Hey! You’ve got to hide your love away
I might sponsor the Dalai Lama some day.

|Word.

A mean man
I get the concept
A better man
I’ll see what I can do
A higher woman
I can’t believe he did that
The lowest sort
Namaste and Namashkar.

Salute that sun: For the love of God is The Son of Man
England’s plan
Jame’s band
Blur is bland
Oasis has the upper hand
And it’s swears all at glands. Psychiatry’s (P)land
And the Lord lost his Houses to the wand…

… The wanderer returns
Poetry is burned & truth is found in the proof of un-ignored success.
You’re not the best: You’re the best
Ireland was my land when the IRA knew Channel2
Too few
James Joyce’s crew
This is not your land for Ronnie O’Sullivan to be an anti-semitic Jew.

|Jokes\ 🙂

If you mention my name
I will mention my fame
And the game of your lame
Is a claim to my name.
Did you get my name?
It’s my name.
Are you looking at me: Or did you use my name?
Facebook City
Sheffield is pretty
The Crucible is reunited with friends that burned the 1990s.


147HERE WE GO!!!!!
HERE WE GO!!!!!147
HERE WE GO!!!!!
147

There you go.

It’s {*Punch*}:Keith Richards
Where’s my Crash Bang Wallop for the Wop in the Playboy Mansion?

Cliffs of Albion were made in marble
So that Elysium could stumble before time.
When Psychology was a study before the sands of grand teachers
There was masters who knew no boundary.
Thus spoke the higher Time
FIND THE CRIME: and add Para-Paedophile time
To the speedos of £100 Million for an Mi5 go @ the News
Afghani / Guantanamo rowing crew.
This is not for you
Every review
Hold of pension pots
And a black man’s Presidential Library
Rotting away in the darkness of Cassius Clay
(laughing)
Did “Michael” get?

Marry the harm that life does
Find the calmness that Arjuna does
Know the barney after Marijuana does a marry
And sell the man for Monroe to know his army.

If a family cannot know poetry
Then the mathematics of tyranny are free.
So look upon these verses with a spacious smile for race and ethnicity
Robbie Quatrain may not come so easily to the Iambic in me.

Mothers were made for mothers to know parts
Before States cooked up boiling plates and other dark arts.
Sell me a celebrity worth words on 2011
And I’ll know Bart Simpson for their children’s reinvented and disguised heaven.

Where are the hundreds and thousands?
Where is the icing on the cake?
How can you smile in a cage for the soul:
That cusses the rights of .removing. William Blake?

Cancerous lecherous child of the light
Look upon the dump trucks of industrialisation with individual delight
And find Jerusalem absent a fathom after 1612
(1642. What is the music in you?)
When Colombus was as real as your beard and the sting in your tail. A book on the Prince’s delight
Might ignite the mighty to fall
For the Fall of Man all over again
And what is wrong with saying hello to my Colombia’s Falkland’s little friend(s)

Claims Go On

I cannot stop
The clock won’t tick
The red ink is barely dry
And I am still thick
School is here and there
Church is a right old state
And everywhere I look
The internet knows my mate
It’s all systems go
Blast off after morning prayers
And even when I’m done with OM
The computer shares my meditation affair
Then its off to see the wizard
And the debutantes of the old Oz
Who might as well be magicians
On C.N.N. or FOX with some loss
No time for a full stop
With my morning cup of coffee or some eggs
Then it’s straight back upstairs to my laptop
Kept some fair distance from my legs
Maybe its Huffington or Guardian
They give more than their fair share for free
But if it’s a celebrity diet or dinner
Then the Daily Mail is for (you and) me
Writing away I think of tomorrow
Tomorrow, sadly, I do not think of yesterday
So I wait for gold and diamonds
And some Rolex account as my pay
Maybe I will sell this or maybe I will gain that
The monkey mind will not stop for all the effort in China
And if I did get out to town during Covid-19
Then the Americans charge double for the Diner
Nowhere is peace and pieces are everywhere
For the farthermost exit of human contact
And when it comes to the afternoon from lunch
I am in front of YouTube for some enlightening tract
Maybe it is this way, or maybe the world spins on its tummy
Some of the ideas of evolution are really rather funny
And then the evening is the same attack
What is yours? As my creativity goes flat.
Something in the oven, maybe a toast and some cheese
But rarely is there time alone to talk to others and say please
So the night rolls on and the moon is kind to my appetite
And the sleep cares more than the Doctor
Who addresses my life as a goal for his wife
And keeps changing his leotard like a leopard with spots
Or something like that…
When the world was flat
And ideas were not so written about by the dead
Afeared of Christ as some 1900s white
Who got lost out of the East for some Upanishad.

Thus are the comments loaded on media
For the feed that the politicians read
And on they go for the midway news show
To get out and about in ways of their own seed.

For once this world knew horses and the man a pistol gun
For shooting and the heaven quite different
To the thugs on the street who keep prices high and mighty
While benefitting the law to be more than strength.

Fear of this God and respect of that one
These are the best years of Judges we have ever had
But tomorrow when the land is tossed to the youth and their tattoos
There is little room for imagination and good old Galahad.

So farewell England and hello Dolly
There is a sheep next to every Art work I am sure
But I won’t come to your Psychiatric affair
Without hell and your Bible knocking on your door.

And these are the strangest times for the knowledge of newness
The oddest respect for education after school
When a King prepares for some wickedest respect
And the wisest man is dying a stressed old fool.

For call yourself this or call yourself that
England was just taught about the Ego:
And Americans looked at Europe and smiled sadly with a loss
That Brexit should have taught them that long, long ago.

Now the Maharaja can despair like Arjuna
Their kind of tariff is with Omar Sharif online
And their Devis can stretch Yoga for the Guru Yoga next to them
Complaining that their human rights are not enough English Zen.

Thus are the cycles of life and wine represented
For the monied might to ride past Lord Denning
And the Swamis from Rajahstan to know the nuance of Imran Khan
Banned from the news for all that we were winning.

Can you rhyme well and compare to ‘Him
The funny fellow from Bombay trolled me hard,
As the only one who had anything to say or lose
And give Krishna some mile high yoga at The Shard.

Thus will Yoga be taken away and the English encouraged to move on
So that India can repent the mildest rebuke that is sent
And Asians call themselves something like The Human.

Anti Christ

Mastery or misery
The hits upon me
Scenes cut on the dancefloor
Somebody is calling for more
Honours are rolling like calls
And curtains are falling on shoulders
The heaviness is heavy people carrying heavy things
And lifetimes the continuance of temerity to bring,
The New Age and some Christian sing songs
At Christmas for the fort around my heart
And drones of warfare torn apart
For the silence of nights with the hills of shame.

England has now names and castles
But tomorrow is an I.P. battle
And the contest is won on a weekend TV Show
For all the girls to derby what horses I don’t know.
Are is can can?
Is ‘R’ the voice of the life span?
Who will read, my textual feed
When Bibliography is Buddhist with dharma?
Did you sell India’s karma when the stale bread was divine with cost?
How is the produce numbered by Wallahs, who estate pride in foreign affairs
When a prison ship would evoke an old age loss?
The names have distances and the places wear good attire
Come down they say for the belting of a Squire
Millions and Billions, Millions and Years
Millions and Newspapers, anticipation and famous people’s fears
Repeated. Defeated. Consciousness has electrical elocution lessons
For the men with the beards and Vikings overseas lost without means to please
Beers. Beers and more beers. Beers glorious food! Alzheimers, Cancer and Custard!
The mellowest light is forgoing, the remembrance so tight of being all knowing.
Humans are not robots anymore from the 80’s dancefloor
Robots are big in Japan and they lend the waiters a helping hand
Poets can come from Pakistan, even if they are Pakis from British lands
And robbery can be at the button, so that dogs can snoop overlords for Goa and African mutton.

In a million years from now life will be free
From the Industry of people and their faces.
Then the sad dress of the tightest fanning to impress
Will be Sati for all the assured disgraces.
Fires that burn are not fires in the night
And measurement is not love in the haste of too many talks:
But when Fitzgerald was great he left room for truth,
So white jackets could know polity and grease heavenly proofs.

Some truths shall not fade as Desdemona claims every Willow
Such is the price for Scotland to ask twice, for freedom for Wallace after the show.

There is always tomorrow
There was always nothing
Some families need no Ganges;
But when the name was used
And Krishna’s stories were abused
Silence became the confused
And Dao answered with China’s entrance and dragon, profusely.

Welcome to the 21st Century
& bid adieu to the English of wankers:
Here is a decision for investment and oil
To tank the banking with some oily cases.
The F.B.I. race and Angels that care
Over and above the oxide stares
Of selfies and big-bummies and the British quip chill
Girls are still the best readers. Still and still,
Cumming for the bumming and strumming
Like a humming that annoys the Gods of Greece
For 90 years of electric Synods and some spoilt lazy Priests.

AI Summary

The poem explores the tension between spiritual longing and cultural collapse in a world dominated by spectacle, war, identity politics, and the commodification of everything from religion to sexuality. The speaker moves through England, India, Pakistan, China, and the West, weaving together references to drones, Sati, Fitzgerald, Desdemona, and modern media to show how history and myth have been flattened into entertainment. Beneath the satire lies a deeper grief: the sense that humanity has lost its centre, that faith has become fashion, and that the poet is left to navigate a world where mastery and misery coexist in every line. The poem ends with a recognition that the 21st century is loud, confused, and spiritually thin — yet still full of people trying to read, love, dance, and survive.

Closets

The first was Adam answering Eve
The next was nothing to Steve
Because he was shy of the reprieve
That Satan gave the pail of water.
Why was she not God’s daughter?
Who needed her burned at the stake?
What is the raise on the hot bed of emotion
Of an ocean feeling spirits instead?
A heterosexual arrangement with Courts of Justice:
A homosexual tertiary commandment
The Ten Commandments respected ignorance in sinful times
For the merchant to pride the light in a seer’s eyes.
Don’t you know?
Didn’t you see?
My certainty.
The Book. The Book. His kingdom for my looks:
I want to look so certain again that I have regained his race.
Jews so common they displace
London to Nazi Town
Come down to the common man and surround me
With what it feels like to be brown.
I’m no Hindu, you sporty sporadic football kicking twat
Like a Governor who’s a Governor in ‘your’ school.
I sit out the next election
                                ‘he’s cool’
The white kid how played the mental health (charity tax) fool.

Christianity is not for this century
These leaders are left of the debacle and debate
They never went back to old man fella Jesus
And got lost instead in Bei, Jenga and white China hate.

There is new shipping for some travellers
Some trade for some merchants
Openness for the God Delusion in Hindustan
Where elongated language chants
Hare Krishna
Hare Rama
Om Nama Shiva
Welcome a door mat to an empire
The one me & Mum bought from the Eden Project
Things to product and protect
Items to ship in states of dejection
While the religious man means some State opportunity
For the politician knock knocking on a musician’s door.
Any food and drink?
What is in?
I think and I think.
I would like to know the sex on the show
When the barista is embarrassing the glow.

What once was of Church was shared with the FTSE
And then the demeaned played footsie with the Tutsi
So Shakespeare can’t close a verse with a computer penned name
That seeks of a  Rishi what it is to be famous again and again and ….

What is it to gain when the man is a frame
In the reindeer named politico who aims his archer well?
Let’s not dwell on Mahabharata for the weddings costing so much
But forget the show with Mark Wahlberg for the Christmases we can’t touch.

Hardy and Hardeep is not my soul concern
For the time left to play messiah for what Lionel asked to earn.
Give it back to the social employment of man seeking joy after mankind
Then there will be a promise and an upkeep
For things the lawyers did once find.

44

But like that I will be devoured by the fashion
Tonight with my lonely pen and quill
Playing Scrabble with mum in our small house
Lest the ghosts have a bigger pill to swill.

What was it you wanted for my thyroid?
From European Professor in F.M.B.s
What is it to direct you to your blow jobs
And how much you earn from closets

AI Summary

The poem revisits the mythic origins of humanity — Adam, Eve, Satan — to interrogate how identity, race, religion, and power have been distorted across centuries of judgement, colonialism, and cultural hierarchy. It moves through Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, and modern politics to expose how each system has been used to exclude, shame, or redefine people, especially those who are racialised or marginalised. The speaker confronts the violence of being misread — as brown, as Hindu, as outsider, as inferior — while watching institutions, politicians, and cultural elites twist faith, history, and art for their own gain. The poem blends satire, lament, and defiance, invoking chants, empires, markets, elections, and mythic epics to show how spiritual longing collides with political cynicism. Beneath the rage and the references lies a quieter truth: the fear of being devoured by fashion, forgotten by society, or dismissed by academia, and the longing to write, to think, to live, and to be seen without being reduced to stereotype or spectacle.

Too Good

My poetry books were too good
They hurt the open market
They were Communist when they were Western
And Capitalist as the Chinese paused for thought.
The British told the French to leave it alone
The Germans told the Londoners to socialise better.
The Indian prayer left Ganesh at the alter
To find out who my letters were addressed to
While Japanese asked 7 Samurai what the Bleep* Ken Wilber was to do..

So forth the ride is funny when the wise men are about to calm the rapid writing down
Then I can come home for money which the rich men will pay me for being a literary clown.

AI Summary

The poem reflects on how the speaker’s poetry defies ideological, national, and cultural categorisation, unsettling markets and confusing institutions that try to label it. Westerners see it as too radical, Easterners see it as too commercial, and every nation projects its own anxieties onto the work. Spiritual icons, cinematic heroes, and philosophical thinkers appear as bewildered spectators in this global misreading. Beneath the humour lies a deeper truth: the poet’s voice is too fluid, too hybrid, too alive to be owned by any system, and so he becomes the “literary clown” — the one who exposes the absurdity of cultural gatekeeping while waiting for the world to finally recognise his worth.

Disclaimer

I didn’t do it
It came upon me
The sadness of a lonely desperate winter
When Jingle Bells came over me
I thought myself divine
I was a winner in distress
I was shaped by the diabolical
To unwind the Indian woman from a dress.

Then I was a Priest and a guru
President indeed over birth, life and death
Intended to develop evolution further
So my big bang was unkempt and smelly like a rotten fart in summer.

These were the hummers of a vibration past Israel holidaying
When I had known the King and seen him in everything
There was something left it seems for Church and State
A tax free entrance policy for immigrants
Some land to sell to the Africans to sit and contemplate.

Then I was empty and Eastern: Admired for the force within
Keeping up with local political actions. Handing out leaflets to stave away the end of days.
Death is at my door step and there is a Baptism to say
What is the state of play?

How can I stay out of the way?
Qawali in the Park, Beethoven’s Ninth in the dark
Concerts and consorting, Krishna is rewarding
Nothing pleases the Hare Krishna until you’ve given your 50% in advance –
Give peace and the internet a chance, so we can be net neutral
Then I will find myself a fossil converting my oath in to renewable energy and fuel.

Transformers indeed in disguise, this is the heavenly prize I once sort
Something of the origin of the Universe: Some violence for political revolution.
Revolving around the sun the heavenly body is undone
And the ladies undo the convention of conservatism to admire me in the poetic rain
Reign of regal things. International seasons that demagogues bring
This is the venture for capital to speak to Poesie of the ancient of days that sing
Of the Virgin’s tomb and the ascent to Sinai
Where the sun is commander of the deserted playing fields for meditation in silence.

Speak at risk for the lawyers lazy fist
There is so much I can say one day when the oceans face passing away
Dried up by the energy and wit of the homosexual versus the playing field
And Friends on TV and not much from the 1950s.

Travel well and adorn the image of success so delicately that you unzip each file well
Telling of pornographic fascinations in a swell manner for the men in the Manor
And the ladies down Muthra lane. Nations are playing again
After the bugging strain and the dimensions for demons in the intravenous brain.

For if I am without and searching for the clown in China to appeal to finance
What is the last dance going to look like for a moment’s free of Allah’s terror and torment.
What things have I meant to address my own nakedness in the demands of modern time
The Professor who gets to the English academy on time
Telling us all about the mind, the world and the shaping of things for working life (lives?) in time.

Things won’t always be fine is what he seems to be in power of and some control like The Golden Bowl
And a haiden enforcement of conglomerate bliss
To travel in my place for some hidden agendas and kisses.

The Phone

The phone bought so much change
There are bonds with Batman to rearrange
Places in the house where Superheroes are talk
Telekinesis and teleportation
Telephone booths were HRH post boxes
Drive-bys
Hard guys
Gangster land
Things we don’t share
Why? We don’t understand.
Thanks for the Moon Landing
& the CIA at Langley Headquarters
How much for a half moon crescent
The arial kept me resentful
Time travelling cop
Mentalities and ethnicities
Chai, coffee and shut up shop
On my way to Surrealism
Somewhere out of the office now
Work from home
Gardening with Noam Chomsky
To, Those Shows Aren’t Free
:: /// @Israel Lobby
Time for sports in Davos
Nothing much for Drauphadi
Jurassic notes
Slalom on the east coast
Too many web pages
Celebrity Villas
Pink thrillers
Visages on the catwalk
Pugs and Yoga Mats
*Pillow Talk*
Call me back soon if you don’t refreeze
Sort out your TV please
This is acid reflux and some pH imbalance I better learn lotus for that Crouching Tiger hidden stance.

That’s All She Is

40 going on a century
Lifeless going on married
A wheelchair bound hysterectomy of worldly goods
Commerce gone wrong in the gang banging of elders.
#missionaryposition
#missingpeople
revenge in the noble gaseous realms
potential in the mystical spin of quantum mechanics

menacing
frightening
a loser on the streets of Northfield while the negroes stalk me alone.
::>> Why can’t I have my own home?
Where is the easel for the greatest Art down below the heavenly line?
When is His time?
when will he cum again?

A shared narrative loser of time
Searching for the right women to find
Headscarves for and against the HIJAB that beckons the BBC couch
Explain to me this advancement and why your lipstick says “ouch”
To, the wrinkles on my face
A YouTube collage on my face explaining American life
Ghosts and the 13 Shoguns of history
Delirium and mechanising my school run
Dinner off the table – before you shoot the X-Box gun.

When the Guru comes?
Will he outshine the Christ?
Is his yellow skin still white?
What is the cost of his repetitive strain?

Emo-kids on the brain
Rugby versus Football for a shot at understanding my kids
The latent homosexual glide into the next man’s shorts
Playing around with staying around
Alive until he smiles again
Under the glum glum could of the internet white lightening.
Flashes of orgasmic sex in the underwear of some dressing down from his mate’s of his
Listing the virtues of putting down a woman
Good for nothing but economic ruin
Ruining the runes
Blowing the cocks
Rinsing the Rabbis
Spending the day in a daze while the numbers and statistics spin around the business stories…
You don’t say this about me
All we need is LGBT
Loyalty to the Rupee
Dissent against the Dollar
Yang to the Japanese Yen
China –

  • Lost China
  • A World Within a Spiral
  • Dynamics in the Universities
  • Specialness in the Kung Fu Mastery of binary opposition to the now
  • Meditations for machinery generation of the mind for enlightenment
  • Communist State Power versus Socialist/ Capitalist gay conspiracies
  • Novel things for a non Novel-writing spasm on the great cosmic ripple of time that is earth
  • Giving birth in the hospital room
  • “you are like me” (NHS Solicitor)

Back down
650 laws
600+ British Politician sex
The Jew in his home in Israel
Asks the blessed Angel Schmuel for help.

The Englishman raged again
The tiny island
Treasure to some
Tired supermarkets on Saturday afternoons to others
cars
brothers
war mongerers

distant lonely longing for a day of peace with National Geographic
An evidence of the black mirror
Watching the watched
Hanuman is glossing over the Chalisas again
All that praise for Raam’s Emmanuelle strain.

There it is (strain) again

-29/07/2023

Suffering

The Hologram
The Stiffy and Hard On
The memories of Royal Pardons
When the future remembers.
4. A Quill makes me famous
3. The computer keyboard WON’T regret The Buddha
1. The Missing Link is proven
Say that you will love me when the children grow old.

I’m moving house in the field’s last eye of the countryside
The horses are galloping where the Angels are still arching their backs
This is no time for the lamenting of the spack-attack
The 1980s won’t ever come and rescue me.

Spy City 
Do you remember Frankie?
Or is it all Les Bobby Browns to you : A miserable unBriTISh bastard
With all his indebtedness to L.A. Whores.
Confidentially yours from Mr Kevin Bacon
Eating all the space when the women need some make up
Keeping loss under cover with smelly regrettably yours
Dealing with the clean yogis, purifying the locus.

Hocus pocus
It’s what it seems to me
You research your school textbooks
I need some time alone.

  1. Sathya
  2. Sati
  3. Siddhi

I’m cooling my face down with a neck fan
Nobody’s my fan on the State Run Instagram
Running through the towns and still she doesn’t like me
A yogi born a Christian with down syndrome infamy.

I Struggling to talk

II Struggling to walk

III A dictionary in my shoulder bag – the one I carried to Dharamsala

Chinese figments of the brothers’ imagination
Wutang before women who write poems instead of face the nation.
Blessings in the Church
What about her arched back
Left in the lurch
Nobody will remember the 6 o clock news spent on the Sexy (News) Christian.

Blame it on the vegan
As I mess about with bacon and beef:
Leaving aside some fish and eating no eggs
Lest Allah call me some mind reading tea leaf.

29/07/2023