You Can See Him

Though the measure is not rhythm
The measured is seething division
This is the way of the too soon thinking
Men were drinking
Soldiers were in divisions too
The platoons were Vietnamese too soon
We don’t like Tom Berenger!
We rather like that erratic other fellow
He smoked the pipe and let the rascals read what they wanted
Then he ran the gauntlet and moved on to other songs
Playing it long
Stretching it out like some swan
Diving into a lake of piss and acid
Where the thanks from the Drs was the same
Unsupported artistic lives and loves from the U.S. President
Things he knew too well to survive
The tempestuous seas of the best travelled man
Who had to buy toys for his children when he got home
Instead of raving with Willie Nelson and Woody Harelson
Displaced lunatics far away from the fat crowd
Mad with joy and freedom from feelings
:: Who ate John Candy?
Why can’t we narrate Planes, Trains and Automobiles for Trump v Biden 2024
De Santis is a praying mantis
For Mantarray in my Debenhams display
And where those currents have gone
Too many songs for the blondes
And something more menacing from the electric guitar fans
Who distrust the demons downplaying the Sita concerts
Raving away in Mumbai 90210
Where the women like the women who blow their fortunes
Reminiscing too soon about the peanuts on the floor at Woodstock
Not cleaned up by volunteers…

Someone steer this ship towards the East
Where Jesus belongs
And where he was born.

Something less intense than a Scorpio’s SAWM
And the non option of fasting in the NHS places
Nurses all over the place and no sportsmen
Olympics look like being off again
Charles wants to check his cheekbones.

Dancing cheek to cheek again
Europe is vain
The military will be wearing dresses at this rate
Those fees charged by Trump for NATO
Will be Yoga postures all too soon
When the newspapers know what not to do
And what stories what not to write
Splitting infinitives tightly
Keeping the phone lines open for Keira Knightley’s place at Ladakah with His Holiness
Only 80 years old compared to Royal Queens
Defaming scenes
Legalease
Who was the Terrorist for Noam’s army and his sold out Israeli affair
When someone was tested sexually and let them push him about to horse shows and bad evil trades everywhere.
Somewhere, one day, a man will arise
A leader well read of all the British books.
He will eat cake and drink tea at the right pace
For £4 a coffee in some racial placements
Prince Charles at Davison’s Solicitors
Taxing Fact Checking
Why Should I Cry For You?
Censor your own cock blue – we don’t roll stones down cannabis places with white skinheads in BNP shit skeggy Weoley Castle places.

Then will
Leadership
Cavalier
The Thundercats vs Dungeons and Dragons ex parte Regina
You thought it was all about you
Jasper Carrot’s crew and those sexy adverts in the 1990s
Something is following me
Someone set me free from Ken Wilber’s memes
Only one voice left to project America to me
Colonialism World War Three
Vibrations from Andrew Cohen’s waistcoat #IWillWriteAboutYouWhenIAm92
Why did you wear a blue shirt?
Was it the one from West Midlands Travel for the bus drivers who hurt
And we test in their bedrooms and small houses too
For Nirbana with Buddha as Roger Ellory is Black and Blue
No American contract for you!
They said they will wait –
They said they will publish my books too –
What is a US President to do?
No enjoyment sitting on the can having a poo
Reading last generations’ Playboy
Without Aishwarya riding horse model hobbying those Indian pooey men
Who think they know my comparative religion strain
Looking for themselves in my brain
Thinking outside the box
Charitable CEOs from Silicone Valley like the fuck off election from Prince Charles soon to be disappeared
mum..
Reading the Bahagavd Gita was fun!

Just see their states
On DWP rates
For more from history books they will write
Tying up Neena Altaf’s contact tight with Shameel Danish
What’s a matter Doc? Are my cigarettes that I gave up making your breath tight?
Don’t you know why your sales and purchases make White Man so whit
When he tries to bank in London town
Where you cried and I did not that your mum was ugly and brown
With white hair and not some Gora wedding to please your boss
Not fucking Sapra was her fucking loss!

Angry poetry at Elim Church
Not confined to my house for Adams Family values and Lurch
Prostitutes in Aldi for Portitia’s family karma
Michele Pfeiffer modelled in Rubery Great Park for Heather Graham’s midnight phone calls with light working and talking in tongues with Keir Starmer.

Whoever wins the next election is up for grabs
Something for the fat kid from school on GBN News, methinks
… how do you raise a 75 year old King, without a career
Presence from Eckhart Tolle for all the worlds sum of all fears
#NobelPeacePrizetoKingCharlesfromBarackObamaforthis

Now That Time Is Mocked

Now that time is mocked
The clock has not stopped
Haversham needs more allusions
The quotes are not mine
The right men must rescue time.

What’s wrong with that
Send Your Love had a house music twat
Remix Sting’s dick
Doing Yoga all over the place
Funny racing man.

Pivot to Asia and a timeless land
Without such atheistic understanding
Of broken aesthetics
Diseased drug takers and homosexuals in Germany.

This land is not for me.

Om Namo Bahgavate Vasudevaya is a Royal Anthem
Trolled stories of histories
Venom to the repetition of poetic themes
Men so scared of their care
Their erroneous romances
How about the one of the Muses
Sting’s facebook page
Mr Rishi’s final temptation
Algebraic rage
#NeoinChinaHackingbyStages

The last temptation of The Dalai Lama
Sogyal Rinpoche’s romantic karma
Who was it who said the rules
For America’s cruel messages on Vietnamese bombs
Signed from Yo Mamma
And the displacement of dog eaters to the Rasputin of rate experimenters
People for talks about watch faces
The diplomatic disgrace of the GBP
“Number one for me!”
“Number one for me!”

The Maoists will be fasting on Eid for this
Eating Halal meat is enough if they like the way British girls French Kiss
So that they keep their Carry On big busted nighties
The one in the mental hospital was an S.P.
Dressed like a Hare Krishna smiling with the funny nurse laughing at pain
… no mor TV strain
… a race of journalists educating the people in Nothing.
No comments on my pages
Nothing for Russell Brand to stir up for 100 years
Plus the dog years in outer space
No point to commitment or dedication or anything in the felines in Johnathan Ross’s place
House master and Cork Master
Wining and dining with Charles when he is not a Prince
Now interested in Krishna’s interest rates
And the KDP wailing of the NASDAQ workers embarrassing top hats and coat tails
And cranberry sauce…
Loads of lashing of mash potatoes
Vegetables steamed in the spied on planned Toby Carvery
Ingested ingredients from the men who did not place gelatine in Haribo
Sinking nation one aeon with Nostradamus down below
Police sirens in rickety cars racing poker games with Chief Super Intendent
Mixed religion and interracial sex
The best pornography from India
The casting couch they have not seen
The men who can sweat the small stuff
… crap poetry needing to be rewritten
… bad grades in school
ITV is always hanging tough.

Facebook Queen

I’ve made it
They took it away
I’ve seen it
They called me gay.
I have it
It’s all a mirage
I will win this time
UKIP elected Nigel Farage.

We’ll get there
My window’s still open
We’ve made it
They’re calling me token
We’ve got it all
That was their plan
We’re being seen
Freedom of Information land.

He’s elected
They took his hits
He’s been invected
They say he’s imbecile
He’s a Light Worker
They’re taking L.S.D.
He’s a visionary
They’re saying something about me.

She’s in imagination
That’s not the state of the nation
She’s internal energy station
That’s not Krishna Consciousness evacuation
She’s Prakrti and extra special libations
They have given that up for me
It’s time to see what is in this holy city.

DWP Man

Engaging in some Home Improvement
Studying the round
Shooting the breeze
They are all on the phone
If you please.

Separate me from the carnival
Call me R.E.M. on the road
Looking away from the trip
Catch me up some British quips.

They knew I would be good at not a lot
Catch
Snatch
Watches
Models of Tag Hauser on New Street
Tim Hortons from Baker Street.

Chant your Hare Krishna
Spare the third wheel of Dharma’s seal of approval
Speak English when the mood takes you
Utter Hindi
Napoleon Valley

Hook Ups
Not the tight right time answering to stereotypes
To look up and not see the light in sex
Scenes from the 80s is where I have been
Not the taught courses from 2000s Porn
Warnings
Shaun of the Sheep (IMDb) for Sean
How about Siobhan?
Will she moan when the time is right
About the right to work and all those lights
Switching on and off as the meditator is medicator
Elected for their own tests at Boots.

Get on your own fruit
And salad the brain
For some angry refrains
About the business classes again
Who stole your DNA strain.

12 Strand Light Body
Star Charts
Where was your art

Branson C.B.E. astrology
Pickle-Rushdie-Ology
Time to take the pis
And see what the kidney brings
When the liver is dead inside the home
Body seeing things that the mind can’t bring home

“That’s why they call it home”
He said when he was on the mobile phone
Looking for an evolutionary pizza
After some slamming poetry
Add the insignia : Know Thyself
And the Andness will be witty with a connective
To thine own Elf be a ruse.

Lord of the Rings (IMDb)
The Land of Rohan
The raise of Akaash
The I-sight of Rishi
This one is on me.

Suck Sex

The intelligence
The weak legs
I have confidence problems
The lied about me in The Maya;
Said my pants were on fire
Aishwarya’s stocks were higher
Than Kim Basinger in my youth
Alcohol was not yet 100% proof
The blonde walks away
Pretty Woman (IMDb) has sway –
Boring 1980s is all I have to say!

The gang is due to meet soon
School is memory
Sand dunes
Arabic longing
Scenes and isness sightly
Those are some city lights.
I like to try
Grasping and clinging
Diving into the City
My guys, the sky and I.

There is a tower of knowledge
Some people tried College.
My parents left me with Buddha
He could not be my brother:
Am I the State Trooper’s keeper?
It’s time to see the city sleeper.

The largest social media company
Can’t keep me company
I am alone
All by my mobile phone
Bullying no-one for their clone
Letting companies alert that I will be moving home
… So much To Lettings
… dreams and forgettings
// Since 1993 when the bailiffs left me
Without my own home and a sad family …
Waiting to be number one.
There is no space for number 237
… or even 632//

Noble Amazon crew
Get a job selling books
Getting no dirty looks
Freedom and some freezing nights up late
Trying the mass media approach right now
Something about Krishna
Bart Simpson: “Don’t have a cow!”
The censors jumped
My sensibility said “Ow!”

Do you know how we can adapt
Stuck in so many traps
So I can publish and let the market be
Settled on the settee for who is domestic
Then I can engender gender, differences and sexuality
So the Free Market knows I am up to no tricks.

Die Cot & Me

The dichotomy does not concern me
Between me, myself and … … …
I said two things
So many to count on earth
You’d think something would give it worth
All the Muslim spoiler alerts.
#that’ssomethingforAziz
And the “BATTERY!!” in True Lies (IMDb)
4 sweet things for Krishna
Butter! If you please.
Save the time for the alloy wheels
And all those Limousines for Lakshmi
It’s either steel or it’s an ore
To get to know two turtle doves integrated On the level playing field  OFPlanetEarth

Zaqat Went Splat

Did you believe the world was this way?
The way the wildness inside of you did not say
That you need a woman like a woman needs a man
To satisfy the hotel room with coffee after an okay plan.

See, the outside world is such an egregious affair
I have my legs wilder than that in the outrageous air
Modelling Hollywood and L A Style as if I have savoir fare.

Three line whips, lots of chains of bondage
Alfonso Bhandari is there with your immature soul cage
Selling the shambles of brambled apples and some granny’s rage.

Voter! You are no daughter – with the hotel quartered
Entrance from a Hollywood master and his debutant blaster
For money and vermillion so that Iraqi can know first ladies
And squillions and zillions and bazillions after Tony Blair’s trillions.
Master Blaster – unable to hold the camera’s gaze
After raunchy Knights have held up erectile Counts
Far from the Paige’s and their confusion about the purple Ronnie
And how about some Blue Peter for yours truly and that fucking Konnie?!

Ropes and whistles and then there is some shouting matches
For the prettiest Oriental to sing me some blues
About Krishna’s curtains after he has been through the hue
Of cry and Laurel and Hardeep for that original truth:
To thine own self be avant-garde so that Spirit is doubled
#WhentheDevilknowsyourlonely and youthful mother is in trouble.

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.

Albion’s Wheel of Suffering and Liberation

I. The Turning of the Wheel

The pilgrim walks with all who spin,
Bound by craving, loss and sin,
The wheel revolves, desire and fear,
~ Estrangement whispers, ever near.

II. Brigid’s Hearth – Ignorance to Flame

From childhood’s school, the fire is lit,
Ignorance breaks as wisdom sits,
Her Celtic hearth, a spark of sight,
The wheel turns slowly into light.

III. Lima’s Lantern – Aversion to Calm

Where sorrow bends, her lantern glows,
Aversion yields, compassion flows,
The pilgrim learns through Lima’s hand,
The wheel turns turns gently, makes a stand.

IV. Burial Grounds – Desire to Release

Among the graves, desire is stilled,
The pilgrim sees what time has killed,
Yet every name, a seed of peace,
The wheel turns onward, chains release.

V. Cathedrals and Castles – Pride to Humility

High articles fall to humble knees,
Grey towers bow to Albion’s seas,
The pilgrim learns that pride must fade,
The wheel turns soft, the path is made.

VI. Shree Geeta Bhawan – Dharma’s Song

Krishna’s chant, the mantra flows,
The pilgrim hears what Dharma knows,
The wheel turns true, the song is one,
Albion shines with India’s sun.

VII. Gabriels’s Door – Confession to Renewal

Estrangement hurled, a bitter stain,
Yet thresholds break, and doors can gain,
Confession seeds the pilgrim’s song,
The wheel turns right, estrangement gone.

VIII. The Djinn – Shadow to Insight

The Djinn may haunt with dear and night
But chanting breaks their shadow’s bite,
The pilgrim sees through darkness thin,
The wheel turns clear, the light within.

IX. Buddhist Dharma – Suffering Shared

The Buddha’s light turns Albion’s wheel,
Through suffering’s fire, the wounds can heal,
Estrangement bends, yet Dharma sings,
And Albion walks with liberated kings.

X. EnlightenNext – Evolutionary Awakening

Not mine alone, the path is shared,
A future calls, a world prepared,
Collective chant, the soul’s ascent,
The wheel turns forward, EnlightenNext.

XI. Liberation – Albion’s Chant

Through suffering’s fire, compassion grows
Through emptiness, the river flows,
The pilgrim walks, the wheel turns still,
Albion chants: the Dharma’s will.

XII. The Masters in English – Knowledge to Vision

Through Oxford’s halls the pilgrim read,
Texts of fire, words of bread,
The Masters’ ink, the scholar’s page,
Turned estrangement into sage.

XIII. The PhD – Depth to Circle

The wheel descended, deeper still,
Research carved by patient will,
Yet every thesis, every line,
Was Albion’s soil, a mythic sign.

XIV. The Return – Autobiographer’s Song

From scholar’s desk to pilgrim’s stage,
The circle closed, the mythic page,
No longer study, but living lore,
Albion speaks – estranged no more.

Pilgrimage Poem

At Five Ways I learned discipline,
Study became prayer,
Questions became scripture.
The classroom was my chapel,
The assembly my liturgy.
What began as grammar,
Became gospel,
Preparing me for pilgrimage.

At Oxford I walked among spires,
Philosophy became psalm,
Poetry became prophecy.
In cloisters of silence,
I wrestled with faith and doubt,
each essay a sermon
each lecture a hymn.
The scholar’s lamp burned,
yet beneath it,
the Spirit whispered.

At St Brigid’s I first learned hymns,
Childhood voices rising in chant,
Ritual shaping memory,
Catholic flame in Northfield’s soil.
Brigid watching me with healing eyes,
Preparing me for testimony,
For prophecy,
For Albion’s renewal.

And then I returned,
To Birmingham’s churches,
To Elim’s Pentecostal fire,
To Alpha’s questions,
To hymns remembered at St Brigid’s.
I read the Bible entire,
Guided by Got Questions,
East meets West,
Krishna’s chant met Christ’s gospel.
Renewal sang through me,
And I stood not as seeker,
But as guru,
Bearing light through rupture,
Chanting testimony into England’s soil.