You told me I was uneven
Like an uneventful good day
Filled with unequal family
With debts and some hazards to repay.
I spoke back by opening up about relationships
I therapied the darkness into light.
Then I motioned the chairs to stand up and be counted
In case I am confronted with a fright,
In my old age which could happen tomorrow
The sight of an unending ghost and a literary dismay
Stand with me as I run over the passenger seated dismal intellect
That watches the world go by every day.
Be kind to me knighted fellows, readers of messages from God
So we can stand together until the end, and be free of a saddening Don.
Let Oxford go and the tutors be aware of the caveat in every chapter
Each man is not read until the time is spent and the church is amock with a canter.
The minds horses, the womens’ divorces, the happiness of every emotion…
Step forward tomorrow and come back from the future and finish the empty commotion.
God
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
That’s What They’re All Like
That’s what they are all like
The actors and the politicians
The same culture devolving the ground it’s merit
Worsening the clay earth for a lack of manners
Rudely protruding mountains as mouths to feed Allah
Fisting the sky to triumph the winnings of God
In Complaint
In Obedience
… In
Me.
BAME
Mixing with the majority
Splitting the sky into an event for the horizon
Cardamoms and elaichis from my brother
A happy dog day tea afternoon. Chai, to some,
With love
Emotions well spun all over the place
Traces of compassion frothing at the mouth
Spinning like a cotton wheel for the stars in their eyes
Celebrity red carpets and hand bags full of cash
Davos exposes are really trash
Let them go, with a ho, so the trolls can have a go.
Terror and the gaseous realms in the stomach
Pregnancy withdrawal symptoms: Trying to find truth again
Sex on the sandwich e-brain
Remarks from the NLP practitioner and the Window Cleaning Method
Spreadsheets and dirty sheets
Sheer stocking mocking the celebrity Brahmacharya vow
Cows in the ladies arms in Vrindavan asking “How?
Because Krishnamurti is on a tour of duty
Across Thine arms and into the Universe
Realms for longing and sad tricks on the human race
Energies exploding in the anus all over the place
Gas from the pills, chills from the stillness
Who knows when God will come back and walk amongst us as one of us.
Why Won’t You Dye With Me
Colour the light a special ignorance
And split the sheet down the sundry path.
Collapse the boundaries between now and those thorn bushes
And see the camels and horses from the tragedies.
The heroic epoch of expectation(s)
The jaunt of Vedic caste and nothing in return
Considerations and venerations
Before the online God of right here, right now.
Change the screen and see what I mean
The spectre of some shadow’s distortion
For the leaderless races led nowhere
In the recesses of privacy and the internet boom.
Who is in the room? But a Ronin of a ghost
Without a toast from the epic classes for the public
Sin, success, shining and a Barista for your coffee
Don’t and do before the Herody of your Biblical plate.
Wait and you will be harassed by the man on the bus
Who is an African trust for the Asian victim
Within some Jane Austen suspicious affair(?)
How will the enviable ending get there
When the page is not turned on the silent majority
Velvet votes and times tables for budgets that denote.
Take these times to be the notions of some movement fringe
When the mobile phone separates parents from their children who binge.
Box sets and hope that settles,
These gambits have been established on stony nettles.
Last Days of Judgement
These are the last days of judgement
There is terror stored up in the stories of the body
The smouldering wreck of a lifetime spent serving God has reached it’s end
The Bible bashers are here again!
It must be something in the brain Brahma has to sort out
:: Like gout in the walls and some other stuff for the cement driven doer
Open to all sorts of the panache in the times of working parental control over the internet
Except rebellion against Drs.
Nurses will follow like the Pied Piper towards hell
And somehow VHS will live on for those who have lived long
Leaders from abroad
The broads from Of Guys and Dolls
Those Audrey Hepburn imposters
Leaving the leader asking for more.
Man needs a woman like a barbecued hamburger on a sunny day in a good bun.
Why do you argue like cats and dogs about the racial superiority of Hinduism.
Longer and older than a Vedic Saved lie that a Chinaman can explain to a King,
This lingam is not for sale.
Jeff Bezzos knows why I am king of the whales
The mystery of the Blue Whale always kept me going
Why don’t you English embrace Creationism?
Why don’t you let individuality be tested by those hard knocks you shelter with big knockers and bad rhymes?
They don’t want to remembered as English time, when they are dead.
That is going to be something for us to deliver you from the Royal Family.
No Church of England as William spends the future
Science Fiction in the Welsh dales with my karma from Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible.
That is why I phoned America = come and watch the English bulldog bully his friends
Trashing Hare Krishna and the Naam
Celebrating Turbans and the Sikh rail road.
What did you build when your families insulted Krishna??
Why should we let you drink the Holy Ganga water?
Bottled up in a jar and now available online
We’ll never satisfy your corporate Tudor Street.
All those people men in Birmingham don’t meet in London.
Is this fact?
Is this not a poem Now?
Who walked past me and looked in the window at McDonalds in Northfield today?
How much does that racist have to say?
Worry about your own homes!
Social Services in deed
Another letter
More international feeds
Katherine on Instagram
A row from ‘Amal’ in time
Letters in response probably from George Clooney
Is this something his Area 51 could find.
[rishisunak]
What a piece of work is a question
#What novel reason is this
To tray 300 with Oxbridge muscle retention
And review wars spoilings geographically.
What is the best insult a politician has made of the poor
TV, dear sir,
I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Then La Morte D’Arthur is for European India
And they’ll control you with service in the docks for her in doors.
When are you married, naughty man
The dear Professor wants the Dr’s friend to know.
For all that Colonial gibberish he asked about
So that he could not go down below.
[Slammed]
Mother’s Graduate
Mother spoke to me today
She said she didn’t like the my life sounds
I hear the wrong anthems
I whistle erroneously
I cry in my sleep
And wet the bed in another lifetime.
For maybe I will be reborn for the wrongs the three did her
Father, Brother and Teacher
Some replacements they turned out to be
Leaving me alone waiting for Royalties.
Sweets time has gone
So has the broken bag of Maltesers the shop keeper made me pay for
Appreciating the commercial nature of things
Reality spinning after the contentment The Sex Pistols bring.
That was some 1970s to listen to
Far thoughtful
Most admiring
Completely admitting
Definitely maybe.
Then she said she sat by the radio in the 1980s
Listening to the seeds of the future for her sons
Why couldn’t we do that & have some benefit on earth instead?
Instead of the grievance and tragedies of a book that Kali has well read.
Something moves on and the energy changes
Men face my E-Mail account and flick through their business pages.
In the end the i-Phone will absorb them and all they have to say
When they live for infinity with the #QuotedJesus and all they (and ‘him’) had to say
Guru Mania
The teacher’s strike in school
Maybe because they think they are God
At least that is what the newspapers say
After they have travelled to Colonial-ville.
The mania for Guru is on the loose
And they drink the Kool-Aid juice
Of change without fairness and time for their clothes:
When will the scholars admit them to Oxford for Rhodes.
There is shouting there is bashing
The banners need to be repeated.
But if they get to half past three and go back to school
They will have been defeated.
The mirror is not so real until they review the Guru feel
And all they have been taken for granted of being
While the right way of tuition was there for the seeing.
All criticism and no pay
That is the modern Government burden,
What can they do but face the New Age warden
Who grants the diminishing of students and success
For all that sexual gradation and immense emotionality and address.
The Saddhu and war
There is no mention of the Haridwar stores
Where the whore is closer to Babylon
Than the minority women in the back streets of London.
Streets of harlots, streets of shame
Lanes of winners, lanes of the Maine Street.
Things my Guru told me I would meet
When he re-friend my Friend from the great barrier
So I could see the end of the world and the illness and terror.
All this the school is exposed to
The students sit for their exams
And then the teachers fall off their hobby horses
Worried about who can and can’t eat ham.
Teacher, Guru, God-lover and denied route back home
Leave the fellows at Oxbridge alone
They might know where the road leads with the phone.
This is the merger of meaning and savoir faire
Where the guru is in a third way parting
With the self that is still so aware.
Father
He called me God
But he did not call me a dog
Once when I was a child
I knew my mother mild
I was kinder and not so wild
Then he left me to my anger
I was in so much danger
I cancelled out Michele
I blamed her for being in hell
I should have known from the last woman I loved
How I lost my soul to the cocked Glock of loose cannon and control
Books that stand up erect on their own
Massages of plentiful ego and demonic realms
Fighting for my place next to actor’s penises that swell
As I chase their hard ons for soft power and understanding
Beneath my mother’s level of self care and loving reprimanding.
There are things I can control and spiritual lavish nights of open regret and despair
Then I see her hair and I am gender control and repeated dismay
What are the things that wise men say?
How do they corporate rise when they have sex at the end of the day?
These are not the things that this son sees with conditioned confidence and Jesuit glee
So much degradation then as I search for the space between her and me.
19/12/2023
Krishna Colouring Books
I used to work at the British Heart Foundation and around Christmas time I was in the stock cupboard sorting out the books when I noticed how many Christmas books there were. There were so many books aimed at children that it makes me think how far behind we lag in literary stakes in the Indian community. We have now had a British Asian Prime Minister, so if there are any serious questions about our national identity and heritage we can ask him, or at least point as if we are capable of his merits. But what would it take to have some Krishna colouring books. Native images of Rama and Shiva; to see the delight of children colouring Ganesh? Why stop there? There is Little Krishna at ISKCON and he is playing with white kids; so why can’t they have children books that have imaginative art work and are large scale with the permission given to pass them on. We Hindus suffer from as many health problems as Christians do and may have problem getting access to decent holistic treatments with the onset of western medication lacking roots with which to talk to us about our post-colonial status and really find out how we are doing on a day to day basis. What if we don’t like football or support the Beckhams, does that mean we have to Bend It Like Christmas Karma, the movie? We have problems letting the past go that can not be seen and gaining access to literature aimed at children would be one way of helping this cause. What do you think? Can you think of reasons not to publish cartoon books of Sita and Lakshmi? Does Indian archaeology have a say in the depiction of our glorious Gods and Goddesses? Is it a matter for erotica and are we doomed to hold on to past energies and find ourselves on the receiving end of medical inspections and questions without answers and answers without questions? The publishing industry was fought for in the United Kingdom and we as Indians are still dealing with Shree Book. There used to be a book shop on the Soho Road in Handsworth where Sikh books were priced at up to £100 and over – so what is the catch and where are these discussions being had? Who is deciding what is important about the postcolonial sketch and what are the long term artistic features of integration and holistic meditation on these factors governing the British Asian diaspora, their families and all their friends who work so hard to put their culture on show at weddings, where family is the centre piece of the religion of Hinduism but the children start out life so one sided and emphasising one side of the brain? Social media now hosts Instagram and all those flashing lights and images so there is hope that these stagnant waters can be moved on.
Wild Stage 