colonialism

Dr Deal

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

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.

Wanderers of the Earth

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Wanderers of earth
Want is
Inexplicably unacceptable,

Requesting is for the child to the parent
Cult pattern, Offloading is acceptable.
Death has ceased to be at the door.

What poor worthless tradition

Is without the revision of the hours for the One?
There is always time for ‘King Kong’ (IMDB).
King Khan is not long.

Waters await the fragmented bait
Jailing the young for the wand.
Piff, Paff, Puffs on show – with the Ho
That Wants.
I did not ask for the ‘go down below’.

Travel to the Himalayas and ask of me there, what fare I need?
Feminist creed… Weed, in my tea?
What defense is for me, medically.
It’s only half past three.
Piscine?
Kuthrapali?
Bachchan?
Kapoor?

Moksha is Moksa upon the body of the watcher who Dalits his soul’s astral journeys

Returns to me
Do you know what pressure points are for,

All Fours!
God’s Dogs are rehearsing the hounds of hell for the bullet,
Next. Crying that it didn’t …
What a blast! Referent seeker, from a Bunsen Beaker
Laughed at by the Mayan Reaper for the “DRUGS” you name and fashion.
Hash Key ## Saw, a Paw Paw in the un-Jungle-less
So don’t best.

The vain is the vein that helps the whine grind the time until finding the uselessness of flaming,
Quranic deceit.
S(h)iva is replete

A champion worth muscles

The hussle is past due

The Jew of Deaths.
Muhammed is best. Faith is put to the test, honours are not for the poor but for the rich of past classes,
Greater than monies lies could hide in the righteous evil of literary lines.

Tell me a story, right to left
And there’s not enough money for the date that is guessed.

So, dying

He deleted it all.

The honour was not a test in an Oxford Ball.

Shakespeare

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Sheep stole my life
When I wandered too far for a wife
And the land was taken lightly
From underfoot with tax and sad goodnight-ly’s.
I was as welcome as my lost pole
To feel the whole world with my opened soul
Invaded and entrusted to the good honest degree
That even God would mean something for me.
Look here, look there and look over
The hills that had spoken of Goddesses and thunder,
To find, to seek, to touch, to thrill
The evil of excitement and a young boy’s thrill.
You did not deserve her, even for a day
And you will not require her, oddly as I may say
That marriage is a maze that fascinates me still
Throughout the loneliness of walkers who laugh at Shakespeare’s quill.
Many have come and few have been called
To separate his surrogate sisters from his gowns and balls,
Where muster and General frenzy the factions of deceit
With or without comedy so that tragedy is replete
With wisdom for one squire over another
When a masterless Samurai cannot know his own brother:
Who are these beings that life did not say,
Shakespeare was needing a laboratory to be gay.
Research his estate with legal grants
And claim you country with vacant plots;
Then one word will be quite quiet for the voices of Macbeth
To tunnel in fury the GCSEs and you’re A-Level tests.
I want to be – you
You are not – you still
There is death – stillness and your enterprise
The undiscovered country is still not before your eyes.
Ask and it will be given to you, knock and the door will be opened
But if Aragorn is not enough for the intellectual curfew
Then how much Shepherding will brown people need to learned few?
A joke at every corner and not one for the stave
Lends borrowing for naivety and hope for armies that are brave
To be or not to be without the thrust of a word
For one shared with Jesus the love of his ‘sblud.
For you cut me, sir, when you dance without tilt
Upon an earth that is farmed for the taxes of your phones’ quills:
Show me tomorrow when the test is biased A.B.C.
How Michael Jackson is bad science and referent
When you are so close to something I love(?)

Sardonic and seldom meet for wedlock

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Sardonic and seldom meet for wedlock
The Warlock is all too cheaply brewed.

The aspect is truly wonderful,
But the nastiness signs the show.
Heaving is the buxom, rash ashes and crucibles
Havana for [                ], against the strain
Of a percentile.

That reptiles don’t claim.
A climbing frame is sought
An abacus is bought
The wielding of a sword is salacious
If Guinevere is Calvary for Lance’s hiatus.
Malory wasn’t malign,
Gawain wasn’t fined,

Computer time: The serpent winds
Wands in the Wood.
Women that could.
One day, few will own the many…
A lady seen today is conspicuous
Individual realms non-dueling
The gold prospecting
Aspects of dancing
Today is a day to celebrate
Next year we need to excel.

If a girl could do well
Shanti would read.
Saraswati delivers a letter
A liver seeks a lover for and water,

Rivets in Navratri,
Nine times she is denied with Indian daughters.
The Hills Have TMZ
Eyeshadow
Mascara
Black boasts of Kali clones
Sweating this small stuff: Rudra with paint.

Nature is quaint to know the bones of Alas! I knew him.
Be well with Yorrick
(Was?) the free house of Hindustan, ‘47 @ 1851
Origin:
The great McBride Mahabharata
But not for me.

Riddle Me This

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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.

On The Padded Cell

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(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)

Neurodivergent

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Pictures of success
Excess dancing of fiery emblematic
Time spent undressing tragic dreams.
There is no more seems
Terror plots
Yesterday’s waste
Forgotten travelling clouds;
Mesmerising water
Of the neurological passageway,
They have thoroughfare.

The concrete reality of a subterranean jungle
Met with monster-like deceitful strain
Going this way and that way
A fitness survived fit for a King’s competition.
Elements combine some new way of rage
Desperation pants for a damp rag to wipe a sweaty face
This day and that old something.

Can you wear a bonnet and go to the races?
Or stay with me while I pace up and down the streets?
So that at the end of the year it is still Christmas
And there is some imaginative space where we meet.
It cannot be your world, when I am jobless too –
For those pictures of you dinner and dancing
Never show the real world like a workplace for you.

Despicable covered clothing
A sheath of apple and two timing pie:
Terse reprehensible verse
Taking reality on time of some guy’s interpretation of some guy’s interpretation.

Hold on! Catch some beats – there is rhythm in these streets;
And the message of the new century unfolding
Is that horror is not the old archaic armchair of the untold
Frightening night that might lose me
In the pleasure of anonymous spendthrift ways:
When stars pass as human beings
And dark partial truths follow wet nights and days.

Mixed Diaspora

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Sitting around the union
Trading ideas like simple students
From all corners of the globe
Except authentically from Africa
            the wigger in the room
            the witch with the assistant’s broom
There was so much ahead of us
Not so empty behind us
We had only 8 weeks to kill
Before time murdered our hearts and our ideas.

Keep a light on for my Iranian comrade
So outsourced he keeps coming back to me
New Age English
I (am) afraid too much, my fiendish friend, by you and yours’
Mathematical degree
How about the biologist next to you
What do you expect me to do?
But freeze for the batteries for Aziz, please.

It’s time to come to The Lord of The Rings
And see us children move on with Bling
And a word a day from the absent and not
counted for.
In darkness and in light
For sickness that is other people’s wealth:
Keep the trade coming from graduates in union
Ions
days plenty
For more than sixty year olds who knew each other when they were twenty.

Microchip Romance

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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.