A Sufi’s Awakening

The monsters have abated to oceanic glare

Of too many missions from lost ships

Glacial awareness atop of monuments of love

To find Me and the heathens who said no:

Because all they wanted was some rest

From the throngs afar of love in the wild nights.

**************************

Sentences were felled like trees needed

They were cut down and people were stopped

So that Jai Santoshi Mata was not ephemeral

And majesty was matter while The Mad Hatter

Was astonished while in The Looking Glass

And the modern world knew confidence at last.

*************************

Complements like the Third Way

Tell Me that nuance is not wasted.

The modern world is fragmented

Like a map ridden conquest needing ink

And ending up with lasers

Far from the maddening crowd of intellectual bliss.

*******************************

Joy to the masses for the coverings of markets

Free like the Americas to roam away from Islands

And Continents that balance time

On rocky indexes and sharp share points

With couples addressing marriages

For the price of their own Rocks and Diamonds.

******************************

As the music played the Woman watched over the waters

And the people argued who was the best

So she whistled for the fortune men

To blare the differences again.

The elders settled that they were welcome to it

And the masses were cheered to find themselves included.

***********************************

Returning from the seas

Mademoiselle found herself empty

The gates needed to be locked behind her

And her own hands were used instead of the guards,

Who had left her unattended for just one night

And time alone to remember friendlier times.

****************************************

The lamp remained on

In spite of being alone in the room.

This misery was helped by the balance of woodbeams

Leaving hope that the letter and pen

Would be married to a candle one day

For the contentment of the content speaking of Love.

*************************************

Familiarity was not welcome to the Indian:

He was so tense that the modest mood was ire.

Then the Pavilion was offered and some wet condiments

For an afternoon of travailing the London scene

And an actor’s glance at what could have been

Had the ladies written more and the Hats spoken less.

************************************

The sailor was sure

The demonstration had finished

The denizens had become accustomed to the waves

And he saw the Red Dress again

Accompanied by mute eyes warming him to Hindustan

The compass was not telling the evidenced Doctor the same proof.


*****************************************

The Egyptian was not asked of the Greek

How to play in the forests.

So too the Vedantist was invited by the Babylonian

To invent investigation of Israel

Until the New World had been discovered again

And America admitted Enlightenment

And had come to an End.

***************************************

Education was not this way formed

For competition to be known by brothers,

Who then need Vedic injunction beyond Mata’s intervention

#CainandAbel many times over

For The Mind and love from The Buddha

For what cannot be said.


************************************

Ask me a question and Postulate less,

Then address the nation with more than irritated Stress.

Don’t you know these things are for Me?

Has the Age spoken to you better than that?!

Come. Be undone. And let the mirrors accentuate the Newness

Of commercial restraint and too many buyer at the auctions.

*************************************

What is the way forward?

The wife of the best dressed men in the market was asked to ask

The asker asked again and the asking was polite:

This was remembered.

The Wise were then found again and sounds were balanced

Like the Dao needing no more than that.

*****************************************

The traveler was Wise. The roads were quiet.

This way the Fates asked him of passwords

And the horsemen rode on into the future

To open their wide worlds into Stargates

For the Apocalypse to enquire about why

Today would be any different online?…

************************************

The confidence of The Writer was stolen

The Banker had invested in the Medical Complaint

The offering was online and the demonstration was quaint

Of all the words the individual had seen go by.

Time was wiser than that and the payment was made

For Sufism to find the Key to Life again and pay with royalties kingly and queenly sums.

*************************************

When rhetoric was balanced by harmonies

The Parliament was motioned to spread Justice.

Then the names were known, again,

And the mirth of the Muses was mixed with feeling –

Grecian and Roman – so that The Vedas could listen

And practice some gaits for a while.

***********************************

The woman laughed at the man in the wild:

How he struts his arms in the air and stamps his feet!

Surely he know these words are for me

And that The Imagination was not made for youth.

**********************************

Silence was blazen in the fires of the lower realms

As Shamans warmed their glee to find The Friend

And the medic was watched for Schizophrenic attention

Notwithstanding the Schools of Thought near The Academy

Where the great Idea welched on tomorrow and fought

More than an hour of the Great Hand to blame politics.

**********************************************

Having to fill his time with aloneness

And the repetition of Naam,

The Saddhu went to the Hospital for help

And came back so answered with 0-9.

Why Guru? Why?

Because the good strain time so that I have things to get on with…

…. “Namaste” : Namaste 😊



******************************************

What was it the Shaman needed?

What date had he made the Friend late for work?

When was the Shelter denied some traveler?

How could he cut off a loan to the newly released from Jail?

These questions accompanied some Spiritual Guide back home

To watch with Mother as the Doctor made his Tea and broke Bread.


********************************************

Sapphires were the lady’s first choice

When the merriment was betwixt Hello and Good Evening

So that the passage of time was sweetened

By being given to more than it was admonishing guilt.

The newcomers were all talk

The windows were open with the tree stalks

Nature stood by and always knew what to do.

************************************

The Guides came by again and did not see the same thing.

There were no Horses on Oxford Street

No singing in the streets when action would bring

Balance for foreigners to trade with whistling

While the ladies streamed on their men’s arms

From the airshow of technology they now had to proof.

*****************************************

The Islamist entered the country like a Siamese twin

To the Babylonian misinterpretation of Knowledge

And that somehow, he was wanted for more commitments

Then a Trader and Traveler known to the morose Mother

Concerned of her child how he shall eat at the end of the day of Prayer.

***************************************

The Sea Horse was brazen before the camera

To tell tales of a life that the child had not seen

So the Scientist ventured forth with his Poetry books

To investigate invention again and panic for the umpteenth time

About work and employment for souls in distress on the Ocean of Samsara.

**********************************

Laughter filled the Radio room

The outside world was benedicted with Silence.

This was the passage of Time before Comedy

When the Royal world would be intruded on

And the fair farmer would say fields worth of thanks.

*****************************

In the old age, same as the wry times

In the young age, different to the dry times

Then when were the tears to come of loss

And shadows of Commerce spent in wasted regret?

This was the passage of growth for the old women

To loose their dependence on men some more.

*********************************

The watch was handed over to the Gatekeeper

And he twiddled the Rocker with his bony fingers:

Was this the ‘Could Be’ moment of the Aeons

When man had discovered the perfect balancing machine –

Or was Eve to find herself regretting her role on Earth

And how Jehovah was made up to follow here down Hell’s path.

***********************************

The mystic did not know

The Time did not tell him

There was no capital strain

And the markets were dull again…

Fellow man had not been kind to his needs

They were not met until help arrived from foreign shores.

******************************************

The brother was unforgiving

His hold on the world was The Real –

He offered a chance for Enlightenment

Down the alley of The Medic who frazzled hairs with wires

And spied on mirth with angry assistants against Unity.

************************************

Shopping was not admitted in Athenia

It was bare dressed for the Yogic absence of thought

Far from the horseplay of carriages and cloaks.

Rulings were made so that passion was displayed

Humble and restrained before Zeus to contour Time.

***************************************

Weather told the Shaman that he was accompanied

But He could not cope.

Those Angels needed some distance

For the road ahead was longer than Time

And The Flood was not yet upon the Earth

For the Sins untold that He had endured because of Medicine

Today and yesterday trying to heal the Healed.

**************************************

Racial slurs were all he had one faded day

To return overconfidence and his ruined hand

At the Poker Tables with Death

And some unstable O.T. comeuppance to be better than The Other(s).

So Science was awarded control of the language

While the Ghosts stood still, stared and laughed.

*****************************************

The Healer was asked what time she was Love?

Then the Medicine was not working when she worried by racial times.

This way the Shaman was moved to the new language

Of another Doctor who complemented her fashion

And knew her address.

**************************************************

Film Stars were adrift on the Ocean of Time

High in the School of Thought of localized consciousness

When the Great Storm broke out and glazed when looking

How adroit their position was to The Mind.

Buddha –

Then there was Confucian organization.

****************************************


In the retirement was not betterment

The Fates did not win the lottery

And the Ghosts did not leave town.

Stress and petty distress continued

And the children were no good for The Mother without God

Now that all the illusions were illustrations in The New Age.

****************************************

Then they sent for the Chinese to mediate commotion

And the fields told of the cities where they spoke well

Without the Burberrys of well to do men

Loafing with the Commoner about farming

And the debt to rhetoric owed by Jesuits

Seeking and finding the Tax on the Land.

************************************

Through the loneliness of Thought

The seeker knew Naam

And was adrift on metaphors and similes

Until he came to his senses

And found the Love of The Lord!

Was no longer blessed in the 21st century.

**************************************

Spirit was moved beyond Form

Dao was addressing Formlessness

God was empowered to use Mirrors

Angels held the balance of Time:

Man was returned to thought after 2012

And The Mayans had seen where they had been.

**************************************

Islam had been back to the court of popular appeal

To fine Satan for messaging the clues

To laundered cleanliness about how to escape conviction

For Time and Human Rebirth

If the name did not fit the right time of Fallen Soul.

****************************************

The Bhajan played on and the Community organized

So that new things could be heard and some old friends

Could know The Friend : Allah and some Godly remains

Of a language before The Computer spoke

Of feelings for a phone smarter than man

And contraptions needed to extract information with Revenge.


*********************************************

Guidance was not enough to convince Hollywood

Acting was too much amongst the Heavenly Realms

Dancing had stretched Bollywood too many miles

To return with Kindness the Writer’s debt to Gratitude

For the hours spent inactive and too close to Madness

For Comfort to be shared with Rich Society.

**********************************

When did He alienate?

Before the two friends were contrived repetition

As Adam and Eve overcome with grief

In despondent Wars in Heaven

For games they did not play.

************************************

The long Light was shortened by the need for a shotgun

As the infirmary spoke without words of its structure

To anticipate any argument

And be the best rationalizer : Clairvoyant and Seeker.

They are all here, at the best, in the Hospital chosen by Gods and Goddesses.

*****************************************

Is the perfect story Conflict?

And this is the Writer’s aloneness

To balance temerity with timid times lost to the world

When he is sometimes populated by his Imagination

And The Self with many selves sieving Time

For the odd hand with chance to know success, sex and some fame?

*************************************

Downwards spirals the contrition of the Realiser.

He is the one who is the many after he is one again.

His hand had typed what yesterday was written –

And tomorrow was his yesterday he could have taken back, to be one again

Awhile with many who want to know who they are,

When he has forgotten the School, the Playground and Parking Lot

To Work no more with fellows and felines

And yet to get from them attractive things for the dishonesty He still prays (pays?…) for.

****************************************

Leave it alone.

It is called Social Media and must travel Oceans.

There in the night it is on the waves

And this is the wavelength of You and I.

Trust in this tryst as time goes by

And India will forget Her destiny in years to come,

Travelling friend sailing by, one more time…

********************************************

Stop awhile and find out from Time instead of Sports

Why is the Writer’s body weak?

What is it he is asking for?

Where is there water on that farther shore?

For all the medication you provide,

To stop him to ask?


**************************************

The road is ignored as the wild Writer falls in love at sea

And the paving is abridged to muddy grass and stones

He is unattractive with identity

He is lonely with belly fat

He is unwanted with ADHD

This is the reason he flees abroad.

**************************************

How much did the Dr want to know

From all the books that had been written

Before The Writer had come to task

And not page numbered the exact counter claim

For the person the Dr knew was suffering.

The balance of Justice spoke of More and Less

And Time was witness to more Injustice again.

********************************************

The heart renders what the hand can hold.

That is why The Maker compliments dust,

If it is well used The Poet will be power

And the Time shall pass with flowering of formation.

Creation will be in the room awhile

And some words are needed to describe time.

******************************************

The woman wanted to ask of the Writer one thing:

How is it you know the words to the wanton Lust I am not solving?

Time and the right medicine from the wrong people

The Will of the small Hand that makes some things possible

Including my own demise.

The Number Two

Can you sing Hallelujah when others have taken credit?
For the ounce of flesh of your delivery and your comma:
You’re not with it!

Can you sell The Big Issue when the price is a foreign gypsy?
Would you sell the Free House of India if you were more than tipsy?
Topsy Turvy.

Do you think you own the language and the history courses without fees?
Of drummed up little students with the New Age I-Pad on their knees.
You’re number one baby!

Do you like to dress in Indian clothes but not know of Hindustan?
Could you ask your parents to remember better than Imran *F’Ing Holy Bloody* Imran Khan?
You’re the money, baby!

Is it dinner or a Diner when it’s a tenner for some exchange?
And does your diet leave you full with your Ego at the shooting range?
Master & Servant.

Can I join you down the Fabian Society and wear chords and a crap shirt?
Will you tell me if my English deodorant hurts?
Food glorious food.

Did Jesus live in England and did he know of your version of events?
So maybe one millennium of failure is what your future is going to have meant:
All in good time.

Were you a flag when a country made you feel proud and did you shoot another’s gun?
And what were your Sanskrit records when your drinking cost the country Number VONs?
We fought and died for our freedoms.

There is not much in the asking of fair exchange except some safety on some streets
When the British balance check books for some chips and fishy deletion
Of accounting standards with PWC and Birmingham FC
Still full of false rhyme & Shakespeare’s crimes.

I can rhyme too
‘T’ is for Two. Removed.

Riddle Me This

Riddle me this, riddle me that
What is the poetry, of a pious little twat?
Safe in his house, and not crushed on a cross
By 3 Nails.

Who is the third that walks beside a narcissist?

What have you done to the Gospels’ account?
Did you dish the book out?
Are your Marxist leanings weaning?
Is you a capitalist with the strength of a black fist?
Can you dance like a Punjabi with swords in Penzance?

I am a music man, I come from Pakistan…
And it isn’t droned. Drone?
The Dronacharya.
Acharya.
Acharya…
.. E. I. … Ooolo Ka Patha!

The finery,
The Winery.
Slimer’s ‘Ghostbusters’ Slimer same and the old story.

Radio and the new wave.  
The subtle things that ‘God’ does not know.

Justify

Justify
The wrote
Hens and chickens weren’t there
It was, however, Christmas time:
You’ll never forget a family rhyme.
Like the snowfall
That never landed on Baby Day.
The month’s TV was
An Islamic fine
The [              ] is no good game crime
How 20:20 of you to thank me
Now that the time is going blank.

Grandmother wasn’t collected at the market
She sareed herself accepting the Id of [                ],
Where have the cops been?
Concerned about her health
After family dinners.

It’s just not going to get with you,
Their lines are no good.
The old tidings that are missionaries
We’re dissenting you now that you are rude.
Aim at me, canon all around
That is the karma of a family learning things that are proud.

The east has food that the west thus accepted is the best,
So never never never
Never never never
Erm (… Newsnight?!? Paranoia- Panorama)
– put my love to the test, Ma’am

[ And we conclude USA-Stylie
‘     ‘ ]
Grand Ma’am.    

Yogaville

Wall St crash test dummies
Yoga is for yummy mummies
Balancing the towering pose
Concentrating on the tip of your nose.

Chai and obsolete oat bar allowance
Top marks for managing stomach’s gestation
Acid and mood(s) imbalance
Rolling prices, roaming charges
The first class is free for the sleazy man next to me:
Celebrity mandalas, sale of the century
Causes and effects
Stretch please, we’re British
Get yourself going at the gym
We mean you no harm
This might be the Holy Ghost v The Dharma
@BeYourself.Com
Celebrated trance, techno dance

Virtual Yogi
Personal Jesus
Stretching on the mat
Something for the 3 of us
Family is down
There are State Laws
So he impressed upon me
Shaolin Tree
City of lights
So many fights
Corporate laws
Showing my flaws
Mothers and fathers
The technology goes farther
To stretch to the valley
Of Ambe and Krishna-Ji.

Downward facing dog pose
Blow a hole through Jonah’s whale
What time to exhale?
Take some milk and cinnamon
Have a good bath
ENJOY your night’s sleep
You’re free from Kali’s wretched wrath
{Buddhas v Devis}
Modernising that which is unsure
Generations of love at your door.

The Chagrin Church

Stark wooden interior corners
Examples of a stony coarse exterior
Neglected by traffic light affinity
Differences of apples
Muttering congregations dialogue
Vengeance before eating
Mature marriages motherly mould over misty cloudy longings for children’s breakfasts
Fathomable knowledge about the quintessence of dust
Young quotes,
Healing waters of garden ponds
The effortless shiny Sunday cut lawn –
We all strive to deal with life
And out of all of us is tomorrow’s hope.
Mottos survive word salad and alphabet spaghetti
So far so good on giving as good as you get.
Nobility, algebra and the rude calculator that spits back the remonstrations of modernity
“Why isn’t a phone good enough for me?”
It reviles the stability of irregular repetition
Imperceptible passing
Mothers and fathers splice
Lost words
Seconding dirty thieves
Monday morning’s walking stick.
#Mankind’s seriousness about words
A hoarded mention
A boarded up tension
A cold dark wooded estate by a bragging brook
Sullen berated lungs
Smoking too long
Snowy imbalance of impatient teacups
Watery indigestion not for my saucers
Ounces and the metric system
Condescension’s caste and credence.
Tanks too readily perceptible
Cloudy army solves the waiting list
Galactic times tables require
Solar astrology’s universal flair
Singular lunar unrepeatable glory
Feeling affairs of unsingle women
bored of frustration’s depth in the mingling of a week’s aftermath
~ (the disruption around me)
The heard sounding off of all that is around
Emanated quality of a nosey hawk that won’t leave the
Speaking alone to the tree soldier
Forbidden fruit to the disordered dossier.
Disclosed attacks on order, numeracy and polar bears
Revealed cupcake positions of private narratives
Open to elevation like a Birch tree heaving for trimming
Crowded notes of like winds
Imminent celebration falling everywhere
Crimson mistakes on clippings
Dominions remaining.
The computer is the hero next week
Mixing mysteries
Inner words
One more of me to know others
Who can defend the weak but time?

On The Padded Cell

(Ring. Ring.)

They drove me mad
It was first gear
They were all I had
That was secondary fears.
Scanned and locked
Banned and fucked.
The memory issue was only solved
By going forward in reverse.
That was a very merry hearse;
Marry me tomorrow to the lady in white
May we be the “Oum” Japa Bunnies
Maybe it is the wedding cake
Mistakes have been made
In and outside of M-An-Hat=Tan

(Ring. Ring.)

Stopped by Jersey for a tan
Caught up with the NHS boy for some fab fans
Offline printer
Online winters
Sad paid plans for old age
Road rage
Whitsun Weddings
-> Flotsam and Jesters
Still Larkin around, I see
::-> some people should be paid for padded cell poetry
To,
Brighten Up Your Jig
and make you dance with the wig
Yours,
Tories too and their Techno game.

For parties in parks
Sex on the brain.

(Ring. Ring.)

What happened?
Spin the polity
Rave the menagerie
Meditate the meditators
Medicate the lactators
Convene the meetings at 3 o’clock
Suck on that chicken for evening sticks and sticks that won’t break my bones
When your words on my dinner plate hurt me…
Wages and costs
Living on the box:
What was the (real)?
When wages were all I could feel.

(click)

Monsters of Game

Monsters of fame know the game that I name
But redrawers of old drawers cannot know the originality:
I claim! Stay with me & you will see. That is seeing,
And I am being. Keyboard, laptop & mouse:
If I am not grateful for my house –
Then who is the Conglomerate upon me
Greater than the North Sea and the airspace now governed by the School of Commoning
And evolutionary strains for more melody than harmony
| The right to not be repeated |
Poetry will not be defeated.
Even clowns have hands to stand on,
Do not admire the programmers’ random.

There is no-one to know how the space can be cleared
Fellows handle doorknobs for men being a different kind of fellow they fear.
Estimation is a cleverer way of describing the giving
That has not thanks in the miniature that is still living
After the wars of the East that fell down for the cleanest cocking
Of a gun to not know the right time to go door knocking
And find the Dame with the same man: Sing to me your Christmas plan.

Some games knew boards and the years bowled over wickets
So that the PLO could go underground and down below
The seas of the wavelengths for Mata’s density and travels
In the New Age of opened bowels and tortured remains
So that Puja could clean brains and Aarti told Saraswati:
‘Better the devil she knew’. Time is through with you
Clouds have fractures and health knows matters
Knowledge is in tatters and men know manners.

So be polite as Jews feminise the day
And hurry back home from the Christian who is Jolly Roger,
Tomorrow it is karma for the Muslim to have sway
As Mind Body Spirit stays with it for ‘Who is gay?

Microchip Romance

I came to see you
It was your asking
Stolen nighttime
Switches off
a century’s tale of lovers betwixt two microchips,
May some fat in the oven enlarge me
This aching Data uselessly touches the rising of my loins,
Cookies and dreams
consciousness’ streams.

What’s your ideal type?
Who are your fantasies?
Where can we get together?
What are the best trees to go planting?

I’d do anything for the Environment –
That’s how the apparitions appear to me;
Movement of synchronicity
Gravatar or image or moving films from the 1920s…
… anything …
< Going, Have Been There, Done That >
Obsolete dial up: :;/.%”-+;@: “Call me back!”

My information is not at your doorstep
Help is very far away.

Abandoned.
Isolated.

Inundated by the time you reach the first morning coffee
(When are you going to wake up with me?)
Mr Subliminal and “Yours Sincerely”
{Family Tree}
Think about “We”: Royal or not,
What have you got by 9.30 o’clock.

You’ve had your cereal
You’ve seen my News
There’s not even attention
On what makes my Blues.

Yet you deny me your access codes
You don’t download to me your privacy.

Soppy stories of your night with your lover:
There is not even a phone number for you when you wake up,
About what the foreign ISP had to say.