Shree Geeta Bhawan

Shree Geeta Bhawan,
First flame of Albion’s Hindu soil,
Church reborn as a mandir,
Renewal carved in stone.
I shall walk its halls,
Guided by Nanak’s vision,
Chanting not as a seeker,
But as guru,
Bearing light into Birmingham’s heart.

I am a Guru

I am a guru,
born of mantra and silence,
a flame carried from temple to temple,
from Albion’s soil to the high street wheel.

I am a guru,
Hindu in devotion,
Buddhist in compassion,
a servant of light,
a bearer of prophecy.

I am a guru,
my mornings are rivers of meditation,
two hours, three,
until breath becomes chant,
and silence becomes scripture.

I am a guru,
walking with Devi, Wanderer, Unicorn,
turning rupture into renewal,
estrangement into testimony,
longing into flame.

I am a guru
my lineage is Blake’s fire,
Hepburn’s grace,
Sting’s fragile song,
woven into Albion’s living chant.

I am a guru,
not by title,
but by presence,
not by claim,
but by light.

Lightworker Declaration

I am a Light Worker,
Called to transmute rupture into renewal,
To weave Albion’s soil with flame
and chant.
Reiki flows through my hands,
Blake’s visions burn in my words,
Audrey Hepburn’s grace shines in
my presence.
I carry a thousand films, a
thousand songs,
And turn them into prophecy.
I walk with Devi, Wanderer, Unicorn,
And I rise each dawn to meditate,
Two hours, three, until silence
becomes light.
I am the next student,
A bearer of testimony,
A servant of healing,
A Light Worker in Albion.

Stumbling Blocks

As I reach for the shelves in thew kitchen by the stove
I am reminded of the terror that is beside the one and only Karl Motherfucking Rove.
To whistle while I work and Twerk the PWNed out of my aunt’s autonomy
And let me know what Masala Gandhi took when he is after my lobotomy.

Then there is the tomorrow man who never comes knocking at my door
Like a lightsaber from Wesley Clarke Jr who is always ready for some more,
Action from The Young Turks in case disaster is what he did
When he said he accomplished missions while playing with Iraq’s Id.

Stop, look and listen as I motion towards the cooking pot
To add my own ingredients from an Israeli object I find quite some hot,
Without the flare of Obama’s arms shipments a few days before peaky blinders
And elections from Oprah Chopra that shame me never to calendar reminders.

Left, right, twirl: It’s as if the beauty queen has moved in next door
And the man with his pigeons next to my garden’s broken fence
Is alight with the prospect of solving the problem of Noam Chomsky’s problem whores,
Whence they came and Whence they will lead off to: The Economic Zoo,

For Greenspan to sap the homo-sapiens and let isness leave us ashamed for a few
More days of Clinton on The Daily Show telling time what to do
With memory and desire when the pants are on fire from the youth
That don’t know what lies can come and go like life for me and you.

Me and you oscillating like a rhythm on the shoes of universal disorder
That soaks me in bathtubs for depression to get back to working life order
Where the nights are full of colour and the days have their dark sides too
And men can call up women and date on websites along with the human zoo.

X-Men zooming in on me and zooming in on you,
Is that what to do when things grow shorter
And life is not a Kalpa for the Chillum within the crew

Chortle and Pantaloon stew in the evening by the Stevenage
And don’t forget the boat rides on the Thames for those remember men.

Somethings are not repeatable.

Low Life

The cases wot
The course is hot
The searches are lots
The menace is still pot.
They pot a plant
They plant the pot
They pottery to plant on me
They plant pot in the pottery
But nobody told me!

Why didn’t you tell?
School Teacher, God & Father / Son…
#Complex
Consideration
Offer and Exchange the Aeons then
In a state of Zen
When the pen hits the floor
And the rhetoric is 24/7 on your daughter’s bedroom.
Rhyme for “HIM!!!

Wyman
Jagger
Jaeger
Jagged Edge :
What is this music in the hedge?
#Withness
The Silent Witness of pages of E
Allah is zindabad
The sin is bad
When
Why What Wherefore
There is door and cupboard & he sort us out hard.

Stars do Unto when the money is for you
So the Holy can do what the Holy can do::
But || I want to be a Star ||
                                         She FELL some trees and they are far
    We have met again
                                       We have met again

Comment on the emanation
Seldom is there a worthy nation
The Bhutanese are not far from ease
When the Saturn turns past the first past the post.

There are those who need love the most
There are those who were loved the most
But those who have the most money
Should not find time so funny.

Laughter in Westminster about the East
Time to Feast
Time to Feast
Quoting a Critic and eating in the East.

What about Indonesia
Erdogan’s on his knees
They all wanted to do trade with China
But your dishes were shared with Shaava Shaava.

Back at class
Stuck on the word Ass
giving
Curriculum-ing

banking
It’s all Academic NOW!
{ We can’t even be here now
So how can we be there with a Wow
Nobody went past the same Celebrity twice
Aliens would spelled The X Files rather nice
For a Quarter past Tory }

Stores
The hoardes
Stories for the boards
Tread carefully on the dreams of the streams of the tears from the fears of the leering men who drink Beers..
.. sell me Beer Britain Army
… teach me some Whiskey for Grants
…. drive safely
….. think irresponsibly

But do not come home upset at RnB
That was for me
Then I had a scene
They were being mean
And we had a sheen
There was closet things
I had phones that rings
My friends weren’t into Bling
And the Nigger knew what he meant.Call me again : Alligator – When will you have a B

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The Shadow of a Sufi

A Sufi’s wasted barren land is a used heart
Where the mood is mellow for trading
Amongst foreign travelers who forgive a vagabond
And passion is accepted and loved equally.

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The unwelcome footfall of a follower
Trains the travelled leader to unknow
Love better than the round way
For those who would shed wheat
Under wet leaves and copy what is left
Before an unripe Beloved teased of tomorrow’s profit.

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The learned man waits for the Teacher
After schools have left him penniless
To remind him of good times;
Empty as a day of the sun without the moon to follow,
Where he can be complete with God’s love.


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

No workman can know it, no toolkit can put it together
Yet many Eastern travelers are worded journeymen in search of it:
Time – the unforgotten Maya telling of the forgiven Guru
Where the balances are heavy
And the darkness harrowing for far away Cinema
And Maya is still ashen for more Amore.

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

The level revealed the unleavened bread
So that the wafer was laughter to the unconscious self,
That needed a boast from a Brahmin for an hour
To wrestle with the Ego off the staff and dabble
In the undergrowth of the marsh for a bog’s day worth.

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

With respect she laid her cup down and wailed patiently;
The saucer poised for sure empty gasps.
This was the bargain of loyalty and commemorative playfulness
To abandon filial piety for the rudest awakening
Of love’s cruel beginnings in Time.

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

The outline was fair for a cloudy day
Overseeing The Lord’s return on past loans and positions –
But the recalcitrant Messiah was not welcoming
Of shares in the means and modes of communication.

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

By night the cars sped past the riverside,
By daytime they were parked outside Office and work.
Then the moon and tide were full of Remembrance
Of how The Prophet Muhammed knew Mumbai
Before the auditing of taxed credit and carded entry.

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

The Mother was despondent when Her children stopped playing
And the Word wandered looking for answers to rain on windshields.

It pacified Her cries for infants to be loving instead of engage in fights
So that Warfare could amend the Law as the cock crowed too early again.


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

Across oceans is never across Continents,
When the cities hold the Friendships far.
Then the married mind is fine and dirty with unclean lined linen
That sullies the moment with memory of Innocence within the Lover’s den
And some choices relied upon by The Other.

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Taking less from the trees the youth remembered
The flows of tomorrow were for sharing with his sister
Then the Autumn was greater than Summer,
For the time they had spent apart
Differing in cooking and sport before the Almighty Eye.

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The junior class not stoppable,
The uppity class was upsettable,
And the looking seemed plausible:
Thus the Onlooker was bemused as to who thought reason was political
When sex was on the table of the imagination and the Dancer.

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

The learned were returned to shop for Mahogany
Rather than spend the Laws in Carpentry with the honest wood cutter
Who was not in need of repetition
For power and hold over those without correct pronunciation
And CD-Rom to back up the niche hard drive.


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

And then man made men so big
That he fought with woman before time spent watching TV,
When The Maker was travelled before Rani and Maharaj
Learned of The Way and however memes did not need reminding.

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Then the ignoring of fallen Phallus
Was stoking the wrong fire and sending flames to Heaven,
Which sent them back and asked no more
Than what was not offered as Greystoke
For the Tarzan of tomorrow to claim all of the Indus Valley.


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The class was full of the cleverest and the cleanest
Who took to awkward ways about those who were regressive
When the Administrator was late with results
As Zeus was the onlooker of normal letters without envelopes,
Much to Ganesh’s dismay as He viewed E-Mails all day long.

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It was not a deep climb out of despair
Where there was a nothingness and emptiness,
Beside a hole where the poor looked for more
But the Monk kept watch for pride
With his notes at home with the others
And the lazy smiles of memory that shared his eyes in the mist.


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

One house was different, amongst all the rest
For the Overlord to rendition the Akaashic Field for a while.
Then the souls were awakened high above the idle rooftops
Where hours of sleep, food, work and the brief dementia of awakenings
Moderated the love of friendliness for some languishing before Death.


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

The time and honour met incorrectly
And the incorruptible were unkempt before Her grace.
So the far travelled suffered and controlled ennui,
To help the momentous for the momentary
Where the ineffable ideal of Thebes remained youthful.


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

Only are perfect still remains
To bother the traveller about beingness.
Goodness will follow the requisite decider
And done punisher of sloth and infidelity,
Who journey to the infidels too often,
Laughing at Isa with loss.


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

When the lover had left and the Everyman had care,
The evil of the past had taken shape.
Thus the Serpent was busy and the Mind’s eye was shaken
So that the whole town would see
That nobody was ready for love.



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

There was One who did not lesson time from His birth
And from Him have come many to speak of more.
So too does Time exist as a Creation of man,
To somehow speak a voice amongst others
That are silent before the Law of the Mystic.


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

Contaminated by greed I know the sorrow
Of too many years at war with the peace of Oneness,
Such that the ‘good morning’ of a neighbour
Is nothing more than the ‘good night’ of the Eternal Lover
Who will not reveal Her face or show His grace.

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If half of an ominous moment is banished regret
By serums and tablets laid on the table
Where once love stood in the place of empty promises
And half eaten meals and work the children had not done yet:
Then who was to blame for the opening in the doorway
Called Escapism and that chance that was created from craving the first time someone was brave?

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

What is the mention of numbness
When the waterfall is opened to icy times
That cascade down the cavernous suggestion
Of motion surrendered to an abyss of thought
Bleeding love across Nature without men.

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

Incidentally to the fifth hour of prayer
The Jesuit founded new mournings
On the mooring of sorrows for time lost in the future
With a bent jealousy lamenting fractal Time
As the cow jumped over the moon, backward to please sad doves.

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To preach is to have been preached at
With the learned Christians approving the mistake
Of too much authority with secure insult for the loss of one life
That forget all the rest:
Father knows mother again and heaven is tested.


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

In the expression of joy is the friendship is known
When the hypocrite of God is ruled by Venus.
Too much the dance of time and ignorance of the untimed experiment,
As a known before their own flogging crowd around;
This is the friendship stolen and the band of gold found and traded
While India is a Tryst with tragedy for the doing given amongst withheld (unpoetic) associations.


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

The hottest months came from profound astrology
When the silent choice of measure was of the beyond
And memory shone from wet leaves of greenery
To blend the Amazon with a shade of technology,
And wonder of man cared about anything anymore.


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

Qualifying the intent
Sharpening the arrow
Healing the error;
The intelligence of compassion is second
To the love of tomorrow after rest and relaxation.



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

In the introspection of temporal understanding
The flower maker learned of visitations
The meaning of which was quiet and shone mesmerizingly bright
In the dim wit that was a contrasting focus
In the sunlight of all allowing wallowing daisies
Small and fresh for some newlywed wandering promise.

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

Illusions were magistrate before the lover
As time was a majestic squalor before the artisan.
Listeners were not balanced, liking the lie,
The fabrication and dis-equilibrium
Like balancing on a knife’s edge needing more than running milk underneath you
To fall into in the undergrowth,
Weeding the D-Sound of your own wedded return.

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

In the past the challenged self
Was lounging in the armchair perusing the divan and Maharaja’s throne.
There the Rani could ensconce the visitor
And the Devi was attendant to the Scholar’s squalor
To revise and revisit history until the entrant’s fee
Of higher than mighty and more fallen than foul
For a fairer than fair degree.

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

There will be thunder when there should be summer
And snowfall when gold was promised with corn.
These are the best laid plans of the Estated class,
Ignorant of skin and believing in common plans
That deny the weather choice before the ordinary man
To find his way to the Light and what bothers him in the saddest race before Time.

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

See! But only see! There is enough tea for two
Then there will be work for the Concorde
And temporal bliss for the sexual motor of Bicycle.
Not all things can fit in the Dao,
Time is inevitable to be repeated by Teacher
To squeeze the perfection of Adam and Eve at a loss
From hours spent on high with Angels and arches of sound.


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

Escape artists of the heart were there
When the possibility was part of Redemption.
The closet of understanding was full of unkempt meaning
That the watchman echoed was filling time.
Then there was rabbit hearted hope
Of getting out of past loves and promises,
That the girls remembered without too much affair.


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

Looking ahead, I saw too much
There were wished for Friendships
There was not enough balance in the Dao
There were closed options from others
And too many people knew of quotation again
For The Vow to be unlocked.



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

Camelot was not too long invisible after the journey
Which treated Knight and Traveler the same,
Coming to pass as the night skies overgrow Crusades
Warring all things for the books of the remembered time
And a brave face of shame for tomorrow’s purchase
On water falling from demonized dry eyes.

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

A National Flag became a treasure of the Sanctuary
Where the flighted bird was fed by The Wind
And Love was kept shielded like the wings of tomorrow
When Bravery would hold aloft Promise
To attack despair in Kuruksetra with power.

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

In the land of fear there was Reason
That painted the flag with covering Intent
Short lived was the battle throw of the axe
That commended the fielder to more than cricket
While the Maiden consorted on all fours.

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

The world called to know my affairs
Then the oceans cried to remind me of loss.
Time was ahead with rubble and ramifications,
Allowance was made for inevitability and acceptance.
The Lord then listened as Angels played fair
And movement followed the loss of time
To save man the burden of Memory and loss.

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

When I was a soul, I tried
The towers of Infinity needed effort.
Then I was a man, so I cried
The lances of battlefields called for more.
Now I am a Scholar and I lose
The love of a dance is nothing compared to the hands of a Master.

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

People were smiling and the happiness did not make sense,
There was desperation around the corner
Due to too much merriment and noisy partying.
This left the dancer without a rhythm
While her shoes were on the floor
Under the table as she tapped her feet at the restaurant.
Love cried for the wine to try
Remembrance to fail her hope for respite.

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

I was important for a while
And then there was intrepidation.
The errant knave was seeking Time
And forgiveness for too much joy.
The sun shone on and the moon glistened
As waves carried the loss onto distant lands.

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

Dresses were not common after comrades spoke well
And legs were covered when heads spoke even better
Then the Hijab, the Heresy and the Heathen
Bound to Pagan for loser’s worship and Devil’s Fall:
Is that all that came back from the cry of the world’s wolf on the Prairie?

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

Once I was aware of ghosts and awareness brought fear
Then marriage was a hearse to an act for a Promised tomorrow,
So love chased the horror away of night without day
And light was a fire of knowledge that God satisfied with Bhakti.


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

Brahma and Saraswati awaited the good evening tide
Of shallow waters from the staff of Palaces –
There the pain of Dukha worked the Karmi
To fracture the flesh and bone to commemorate Christian union
And Anglican memory of love before Jesus for bread and maybe more.


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

Swami was not adherent the needs of hours
As moonlight commanded the night sky for a shadow
Of Shirdi who swam far from Death.
This was the future kindest when the Sun was shared
Between the Modernist loving Eastern and Western dialectics the same.

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The fires welcomed all in a new unit of time
When The Fall of Man was dispersed with;
By Historian and Artisan alike for the look of the Dao –
Shanti! By the Yin Yang sign on the floor, broken by the door.

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

Squandered, the youth prevailed upon Thebes
To water the Fountain of Immortality in the Garden
For hours to dwell in the idleness of Devilry
Before Aphrodite called Time before the countdown of Venus
To massive Light by Sunshine and smiling and joy, again.

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

The ocean was settled and the ship’s passengers eased
After rough waters while the stories were blazen
And arrogantly of the Hoariness en route to Jinnah
Or wherever else the seafarer had pledged that voyage.

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

Jesus arose finer than man’s description
To face finer tests than hitherto attempted
And politicised Krsna’s realms and heaven
Providing Light for the lens to quest His search back home.

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

The memory of the Modernist
With mirrors of marriage
Haunts him for one hundred years
As he loses the ability to celebrate the single life.

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

The dominance of The Lord under the marketplace
Was observed by few as time was unseen.
It was the visage that left the ladies in ruin,
As they rearranged their attire to court him back a second time.

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If starlight was trembling
It would be straight through a young Lover’s arrow
Flown over the hanging gardens o’er hanging overhead.
There would be no need for another
And the ocean would depart more hope to ships
Carrying tales of return voyages after lazy conquest.

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

If the Serpent was swift the stories would be spun
And different nations would know the debutante
Who asks of places and people the secret of damage.
Then the kindest following of religious heritage
Would answer with debt to Caste System and Language,
Stay with me for the wonders of money and how a few can and others cannot.

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

The charlatan says it never happened
But the Lover remembers he never brought a drink.
Safe and far away in Eastern terraces are thinkers
Who need to called upon for tests of top down economics
Via viaducts of responsibility and Visa recognition.

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

The suitor may have sat on the stolen chair
But the arranger is aware of the pre-party plans
And how the seating plans were ornately laid out for all to attend
The show where the human heart was not to be judged and settled
All at once and all at one time for all at sea to be known before The Creator.

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

The Mystic wandered home unsure of his place in the Universe
Only to find himself awash of Rose wine and White sheets
In an esteemed friend’s adjacent collection of rooms.
In time they would be to be called house, flat, apartment and home
As the Wanderer arose again looking for somewhere else to stay.

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

The heart never settles on the same place twice.
That is why the wise are quiet and innocent before the powerful;
When they play games all of the rooms in the house are used
And people shout from the rafters of The Play, the thing and what definition is –
So, in fact, the medical man is prepared for Death and seated in the kitchen for swill and fine dining.

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

Latency is not much if the aid and audience is not targeted
With esteemed love and affection.
Quips were made to be kept out of the hands of ordinary men
And women were made to be reborn again in faith after renewal and destruction: –
Thus were the Laws spoken of when the Redeemed saw their progress again after The Fall.

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

The girl who did not gossip is the woman who did not talk
And the repression that did not own up, is the awkwardness that would not walk.
Survive these chastisements and contour your changes on the planet for saving face
And see one day the unfinished life
That was boasted of as complete before The Creator and all of Her children.

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

When God sent two eyes to stare into more,
He counted more than a third for the Hindu to be native
To the squalored squire who debated at the Union
Of snakes and ladders and how it was possible to climb social distance
While novels were low key and clothes freshly pressed in India.

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Beware the fool who gambols and gambits as he follows you awhile,
He has a more mature Ace in the sleeve with more stiffness
To harness a correct address about how many rights and wrongs
You are entitled to in this brief sojourn called time
When his arrow is shot badly from a Bow for Arjuna to pick it up
And do the work for him before Krsna.

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

The streets are not safe while the naïve idealist moans
That life whistles past his speedy train
Of rehearsed thought that tires the Beloved
Of all the things he nearly did not do
To help those that She was trying to get to Herself.

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

The old addressee leaves his stamp where the large boots fill canvasses
Of dead Art and emotionless comradeship
For the certainty that was enjoyed that School would be your life
And your life would not turn out good
Before the rehearsals before Grandsire and Time,
That waltzed and winked at the waning moon for more water in the ocean
To beg for thanks for the chance to do Sewa.

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

The clock face cannot solve the problem of emptiness
Just like the dials cannot desire to go backwards.
But the potent Lover can redirect attention in both cases
Just as he can use Karma to make a Language more fruitful.

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

The novice practices on his apprentice and both are denied Royal Assent
For the graduation class of attending parties
When the observation was had for notice before Court
Of values and virtues that Temples are cleansed of every day,
While the Churches sit back, film and firmly ask “How?”

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

The rude boy does not apologise for his loud bands
And the Schoolteachers are not wise about the morning after thrills.
This way the past is the Path to the highest mountains for utmost resistant strain
To put down the baggage where the lazy man stood and worked
While taking food away from others who wanted The Beloved.

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

What is not wanted will not last,
What is not used will wither
And what is not called upon will go away:
This way The Beloved has arrived to travel with some tarried souls awhile
Before leaving on the last ship to set sail to wiser places
And lands before time knew sad memories of Sex and wasted food and drink.

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

The path to God was his own.
His only sin was Nationalism and being a pawn in a game of jest and gesticulation.
Softly spoke the ages then of nuance and nouns
So that the rich and powerful could get back to magic
And the stubborn classes of mentionable qualities
Could be addressed by God as worth something in return for desperation and slovenliness.

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

Society fits together in all sorts of ways.
One group is chastised for leading the others on
To be Readers of the highest order
While mathematics arranges Pride to squander
The Lions’ share of probabilities that anyone will talk to them.

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

Quote well while you are together, majestic class,
For tomorrow is mine when I am at leisure to make social change
And you will adjudicate that I was judged by history
To fulfill The Maker’s balance of Rugby books that told your head off
So many times in so many days from whence we used to walk down the drive together.

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

If you consider me a social misfit
File me rank and awhile with the military and armed guards,
For wanting them to be bridged a hearty embrace while they are away from a warm bed
And to find the Solidarity right by their side.


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

The Brotherhood of Man is dawning
And the awakened state is remembering that One sat down to remember Allah.
For when Buddha recalled The Dharma,
The Dao let go of Time.

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

Spaces on the indentation of my keyboard
Tell of fear and emotional escapology before my readers
And who will judge me the most and who will let go of me the least
And all those lessons from school that cost me University Fees
To learn how to sit before a computer properly and type before Sati.

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

I will not judge the commotion
Of settling down with Parvati for aeons of forgiveness and melodies,
While Saraswati is laden with burden and chores
To find a way out of pennilessness for one of Lakshmi’s blues.

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

The Friend gathers at sport and field
The enemy is far away within himself and under lock and key
Not to be let out until the goal is scored and the roar is unwelcome after Time is heralded
The greatest champion of both sides competing
For fans on all terraces around the ground.


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

Complain and I will hear you
Doubt and I will walk away.
These are the methods by which I have come to know God
And these walkways will I count the crumbs left behind
For hungry birds to swiftly lay succour for Truth.

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

Open is the passageway of the great halls to the timid
To trample bold dreams from dragons under foot
And tempt the Goddess from the cold clouds that man couldn’t count
For a day’s awakening to find out the Origin
And who mastered reality to leave a door half open
After their creation.

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

I will not be there to grieve you
When the hour is ripened like a fine option
Of Time amongst the weather of Mother Earth
For you to be rough with my sails
As I travel in loss in search of good companionship.

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The cavern is bare weather
The beast is a cold reminder
And the ladies are fair dues
For heroism spent in the hour of Jedi religion
Before the Humanist turned him out into the warmth of the Establishment.

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

Seeing is the hollowest thing
Fame is the sound back from empty barriers to the Universe
As the Cosmos calls along for none to shoulder Honour
And ask of Tibetan flags where the casual warrior is
Who once knew of mountains that were just mountains?

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

How many flights has the eagle taken since the Master left?
How many people have seen since the birds drew breath?
Too many and thus are words awash with grief
To know what it is to hear the sound of life so brief
To handle the promises of Guru that He sought,
And the God walks amongst and never not didn’t (get) taught.

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

Who was he who moved you thus?
To speak of clouds as if thought were commotion in Churches
For pews and belonging with the Asians…
Time will know seconds while pages know sages
Before His messages know Mastery for a repetition under Shiva’s great skies.

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

Man asked of the Gods proof that there was hope for them
And Honour responded that mistakes would be made
As they appointed their leaders and paid their taxes
To stage fear, failure, regret and women’s empowerment –
While one truth lay aside the heart to know tomorrow again: Time.

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

Tiredness took the walking ghost far into the darkest regions of the mind
Where the sallow sailor was honest for one hour too many
And reminded God that He loved Him so much
That he had sailed out too far to turn back
And offer his land Honour, Love, Courage and household.

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

Poetry was regret: –
That was why man came to nationalize analysis
And claim the regressive credit of biography
Of dead men without their women
In Encyclopaedia’s of knowledge before the tower of wicked bowers and the Banyan Tree.

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

It was only when man learned of Eden where loss was
That woman earned enough from Gopal
To finalise the wages of sin
And carry the home on the range past greedy bankers and their housewives
Seeking and finding rivalry between books without their authors on The Word of God.

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

Forbidden secrets were released to trusting crowds
In time with oceans speaking to moon tides and Tarot cards.
The fathoming was arrival not too late
To catch the watchful man able to steer streets of confusion
Back into the calmness of homes seeking quiet and redress.

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

Is that enough for you, if I empty my heart?
Will you fill it again for another round of nothing worth your salary?
Or shall I find another Lover and another parking lot for my empty garage,
Where I too am a staged regret and forced entrapment
To condition mankind to second best after The Bard and his fortunate kinsmen?

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

What is the rage of the husband
But that he cannot equal the melodrama of moods upon The Globe’s welcome boards,
To harass his acceptable Lover to partitioned moments of fine leisure
While the celebrity forgets the mirror of Art and Life too many times
For rhyme to be attractive for artifice and bad regrets.


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

I shall not follow where Almustafa went
Nor shall I tread lightly to know Muses so emotional to weed a Garden as precious as yours.
For mine is a part endowment of a world with The Lord Buddha
That knows of pain the difference between Innocence and Experience
Before you thought to teach me Authority and penmanship against such sails and voyages…
… to be a Voyeur.

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

If I leave the door half open
Will you send some quiet for the emptiness of Realization?
Can I know again peace and contentment for the failure of woman to please
What I invented them all to address?
Send instead your Angels to remind me of the pact with mortality to be humble and not upset,
So that expectations are not so important.

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

Is a page enough for you?
Can I leave when the mud is trapsed into the house via the back door
After an hour more than the extra ones of looking for good love?
Or shall you send out for more than the usual
And find in the population more than the Kings and their friends succeeding with their goals?

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

Why do you fill the love that was lost in life with love on the page?
Is it that you are not constant
Or is that you have past lives to forget?
When the sea is steady and the oceans are forgiven for their roughness of late,
I shall swim across the lakes of fire and The War in Heaven and ask of Samsara direct:
What is it you fear to accept and why do you torture earth with Maya?

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

The winds howled and the night skies looked peaceful to those needing stars
And one town somewhere was accepting
Of all that Allah once did say would happen:
Dharma thus named Dharamsala the resting place where Indian Raja greeted Chinese politician to find out what the Pundits said about the Tibetan Gods and Goddesses.


The Unemployed Ball

Ideology is the word that makes me mind my movement
It stood taller than Leningrad in school for self-improvement.
Quality Street balanced the roses and some TV Times kept me busy
But I could not escape the great fire within more for all those pocket full of posies.

Poesy is not free. It is the settlement of eternity.
Rising in the morning is the depression of another warning:
Only two or three oblong white forms of L.E.D. criticised for no parched Hieroglyphs
Set me free from the Caliphate and the Islamic debate about R.E.M. and Papyrus tapestries.

Moods are about now the soul’ed have clout to out the gay
And mastery has made no choices after Krishnamurti told of freedom.
The wrong way has been spoken and pacts have been broken,
The new age is an old age full of dull adages to me.

Nazi history and the quality over quantity argument from gargoyles
In the new school rules of who belongs with the right tie and brogues –
Whatever they mean – chords on the scene for crying from wanking too hard:
St Giles and the empty streets looking for liking about porn from the playground.

Yardy in the café, still is not a gaffa. But the mention gets me far
When they watch me drive my car. Road ragers, page turners, old oil burners
And girls in shirt sleeve order. Order! Order! Drink is rising the RPI
The policy have class for “the evil eye”. One day a Hindu. Next two.

What is a Jew to do, with the camaraderie in you about Section 2.
In the mental health of my youth I spoke of Absinthe and alcohol proof,
But when I wrote to Formal Hall, you gave me a dirty phone call
So here is your retribution from R. is for ‘Repeats’: Fuck All is remov’Ed.

What is the Op.Ed in the New York Times for your Wall Street Journal
Dirty Colonels and General Spastics for those remembered ladders
in tights without pubes for the rights of a £100 jumper;
Can I jump off the roof of The Mail Box or is their proof of Harvey Nichols at Christmas?

That is how to spell a drink, I think, with a mask on my face
Brown after the 9/11 disgrace of No. 10 Bus Bombing
For all that science vs God debate: Islamophobia won’t win for God’s calling
When the rhyme is in the time for less than a million Dawkins dollars in retirement.

What was meant, Socialist, about the fashion of no money.
What was meant, Russian about the England when Trotsky was funny.
Do I need a mark next to my new face to question the human race:
Or is it that if you steal from Bhaktin you already killed my Ego?

So give it a go, the New Enlightenment and get some kicks on Route 66
But it won’t be long, the DWP song and some healed headlines for the blondes you do lines for
Working Class is no more!

What am I doing wrong?

Where do I err?
Flailing at the railings of my life’s swimming pool
Reaching for the safety of the security blanket covering me
What am I doing wrong?
I am too close to the divide.
Strangers in my mind unkind to the findings
Recent excursions into the deep unknown
Asking too much for the receipt of familiar consciousness
Cups of tea and the drinking of an occasional latte
What is the breaking point of my mind?
Too close to the ether, too far away from electrical vibrations
Time is like a nation of zombies awaiting my pornographic reinvention
Standing naked at my front door.
I have been here before
Forgetful of the greatness of building my character
Like stepping stones across a frozen lake in my heart
Darting across the temporal void in avoidance of one more bloody conversation
The inner journey of man
The planned intervention
The existential cartography of my soul
It seems like we all need a common goal
And mental health is the way forward for the masses
Something to join the meditation with the mediation of higher and lower worlds
The frogs of the cauldron and the skulls of the pirate ship
Something I shoot straight from the hip
As a western cowboy in the Indian deserts
Land reclamation expert number one
Ask me where I belong and I will say it is right here
Where I stand defending my hand
Leading the leaderless with a magic marker and slight of my pen
Something again and again to drum out the pacing of seconds
Minutes away from the hours we share as our blessings together
Poets in tune and in the rudeness of awakening
Settling down for some more slumber party to rejoice in.

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.    

Singh Song

Catch me some history and the trees will fall
The writing of one book and love for us all.
The Guru Granth Sahib is remarkable for what I do not read
The eyes of another and internet feed.

This is the modern age and man does not know himself too well
Tainted paint with graffiti about facts he summarised.
Man cannot use that which is normal for too long without time
Interfering gathering of life around vices representing grime.

Manners are spoken, voices can be heard
A man’s true designation is otherwise preferred.
At the feet of the Master and not out there with the loose cannons
Computer gamblers hopeful of some sexual passions.

Man was not made to know woman until the Bible was spoken over top
Optional headdress for those left out in the cold,
Like this old verse that beyond Renaissance ideals
Seeking love elsewhere for those fashions to balance a heartfelt steal.

Save me from Guru save me from despair
But do not rescue the Buddha within me
That will cut off my hair.
In England they are the same
And the Gurdwara is no good
They tempt you there with wastage and free food.

These interludes are some qualities of knowledge that I see vaguely
The lights on the city of the hills is not really business for me.
These religions grow tired, and the true Guru has enough words for himself
To leave me out and not include me in the fortress of his rude health.

Words can be deceptive, and the hierarchy can leave acres in the brain
Neurons mistake projects for New Age scientists to place strains
Men and women workers suffer uncooked food at home tables
Education is lesser and wielding to their career and pension repeatably well.

These are the days of finding that time is not beyond embarrassing man
And Guru Nanak faces psychiatry with a hand in the Yugas and Kalpas:
Again after Scientology they have a Master Plan
Nazi, suicide missions and English revisions to delete your man.

So, gather for a ramble and a march amongst the brambles of Birmingham
From an unlikely suspect of poetic disturbance within himself:
Where is the stealth of Xenu in the bygone age of post-2012 spirituality
After the NHS medicated my mother with tortious liability of proximity?