life

I Don’t Feel Like a Poet

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

I don’t understand my poetry
It makes me feel not good
I’m not a warrior in the market
I’m not a corporate woman being misunderstood.
This morning is some arising with the birds
The trees outside the window miss the one that looked like a Sea Horse
Who chopped it down in the distress of unsymphonied Arjunas walking around the place
Racing like the races of the ages down trodden roads of traders
Entrance of the imagination
Skilled scared readers of destriding
The manifestation of political rule
Peace with the over estimated merchandise of the mother rule
The chickens roosting proudly at home
Making a fool of time
The poet’s rhyme is predictable
And Thomas Hardy is the measure of a postgraduate’s rise to power
To emit the truth in verse of the corporate thieves
Their hearses are not insured in a legalease London illegal to the man with a Rambler’s walking stick
The man who’s fashion you can’t understand
Calls you unplanned
In John Lennon’s land
When his time is up on the remission cycle for a cancer in the ocean of bliss
And too many unkissed lips on the British TV.


Who are the celebrity reviewers of the fashion policy
So I can earn money
Jeff Bezzos
Steve Jobs
Microsoft Gates
And hate from the British mates who are mates to each other and not a Friend to Krishna.
Then I don’t want to diss ya
And your bad rhymes in London town
Mixing and warbling Techno Fucking all around
As you ruin my mate Sting with British American pop video VHS bling.
Remastered Soul Cages remixes is all in the Independent Press
This Cowboy Song is copyright
Not these uptight verses
Unnamed like a flame from the Rama’s bow where wisdom is the rectification of the past
Loving words from unvarnished Hindus at last
Like a frame to a painting that sits on the museum’s floor
Waiting for the fort of the adored.
What kind of symmetry is this
To be kissed by time to be mortal
When the Sufi is fantastic and the merriment is outside in the corporate rages of Colonial pages of contracts
That have nothing to do with my past 20 years
Of fears and fears and fears and fears
That transcend the shallow empty pitiful words of the hopeful Christian?
Why did that question mark go there> That is all Oxford wanted – The Computer.


I went to Crescendo heaven where Michael Jackson taught me odds and evens
A game of draughts on the floor of Billie Jean King
Singing and singing the song celestial with a wavelength too far from the crowds of appreciation
Ravaan’s adoration
Sita’s self examination
Who takes the old person out for some sandwiches from Handsworth hall
Just once in a blue moon is all that charity can implore
From a Mahatma Gandhi Centre from the kids off school
And the rush of a terrorists exit in London with Theresa May’s fool –
Pressure cooker on Soho Road
How long have you planned my Ego?


Who was the ruination of Colonial distress
When you referenced Bryan Blessed’s chest
Next to the unkind reference to Geoffrey of Monmouth
Politicians too stupid to not touch Academia
Streams of Guru Nanak hysteria
Crying for the English girl about to attack the Asian
Not speaking about her YouTube fashions…
Why don’t you like me?
What is better or worst?
How many likes is too many?
For a brockwurst with Laura Hambrook at a Christmas Market on Birmingham New Street
Live Cams everywhere
The phone is the TV we were
We never didn’t not want to see who our parents cannot not be in the now of their hollowed out stomachs
Frightened by the politicians who just don’t go out and hand out money
Rather than try to solve the Final Solution –
Employment Law with Adolf and Hitler’s white Nazi children.
No academy for me, please and English writing dens
For pillocks in Oxford City and their racist past lives again.


Why do you strain over simple things?
Why is writing not a career?
Why don’t you teach novel and poetry writing?
What are you afraid of?
Tupac and his drive by death?
What is that was not his last breat?
Then I was right before the tears of teasing Isabel Rivers
These forms are not for me
Idea City – that is where I shall retire
As my mum and dad don’t read properly either
And you throw tyre tracks around their wasted waists without sarees and Kurtha pyjamas in Hindu Mandirs
Their estates and esteem too old for corporate Christians and mad dog man named Christian at Elim Church
‘This concerns us’ – then medicate yourself properly
Fear can lead to illness and your Daily Papers are not self aware.


You program what makes me unfashionable
You hide your literary reviews
You stress me out with the ordinary man
And then say Hank Paulson is not for you.
You steal from my home and laptop
And pay for Andrea Leadsom’s lap dances,
You trash Bollywood’s billionaires lifestyles
And then want to whitewash China with Matt Damon riding on the chariots of fire in flames of heaven
For Stephen at Creative Support
Warbling like the smelly paki minicab driver in Lake House Mental Support unit fake hospital with Allah

  • The name of a God, once more
  • The name of a God, once more
  • Irony and Satire on the living room vacuumed floor

The corporate language of failure, lights and success
Ken Wilber in the Oval Office as a freemason
The Happiest Actor ever
At least Indian TV is real
SWOT
SWO(Loss)T #Feminists
The word of God leads to the hidden form of God
Some Bella Pasta super fantastic modelling secret societies
And nothing on my TV for me
As you tell me how to read
And what to think of my neighbour.


So what is the ultimate poem?!
Question who is the following Question who is the leader
Question when the Police became pigs on The Simpsons
Who was the reader of animal farm to those coffeespoon users in cool offices with extra sugar
Gibbs was a mutherfucker with his Ark in his basement
That’s what my depression and years of solidarity with Westminster meant
Sent for the imagined time
Who imagined Time?
Whosever answers this will steal the economy
The race for the next century
\.. \\\ lots and lots of space from me
Emptiness is begetting things too soon
Fashionable faces are in my room
I feel the need to talk out loud
The spies around the place are Weoley Castle proud
The mobile phone is so walkabout loud
Telling appalling people where I live
Far from my aunty’s inhabitants in the shires of Robin Hood’s glen
… silly men
Do you think I am revealing my quotations and references today?
What would you say?

Closets

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

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

Chief

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

I used to ground the chief
Searching high and low
Relaxing on the cricket pitch
Things in hell for bad people down below.
I wanted to know the answer
Beyond heaven’s mere innocent representation –
People spent in movies and Apocalypse
Versions on armies on TV in their nations.
What is the meaning of life,
From Royal Patrons to a lonely boy at school?
Taking life too seriously
For economics with the women at Uni – a lonely fool.
Where is the answer going to come from
In the texts of the English literary canon?
The wisest men and sometime women consenting
To examination in Final Honours School.
Lusting after the listed virtues of fame and honour
Consequenting the frequencies of despair
Prompting me to sometime grow it long
Otherwise I was off to shave my hair.
They called it the ineffable and made it into Christianity
Things I could do and things I cannot see.
Now it is moved to the popular population
So some may dance with it in the flame of Spirituality.

So I am undone and found out – merchandised to the futures of the investment class
Sometimes they think of me running the race and finding out things last
A computer for him and every child one day they will say
Until the time has come forth for this merriment to dry up and go away.

Freehold

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

I’m sad
The deal is not on the table
The writing is on the computer
The wall is removed and elders have taken me home
Certainty is walking the stick route now and then
Incest
Invest
Ingest
The poor man is close to his car
The dreams go Hollywood far
A truck with the ethnic minority
The Asian is so close to the black man in me
What is the centricity?
What is the tower that the Professor got best?
When he takes his time to go home from black tie and undress
And nothing adds up in the make shift mazes
As amazing as it is that we were once children who believed in his ideals.
This is the age that the Greeks will steal
These are the speeches that blonde haired men will yield.
Nothing will compare to the failure they take for granted
Of a free education that paid forward when the land was standing.

Too Good

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

My poetry books were too good
They hurt the open market
They were Communist when they were Western
And Capitalist as the Chinese paused for thought.
The British told the French to leave it alone
The Germans told the Londoners to socialise better.
The Indian prayer left Ganesh at the alter
To find out who my letters were addressed to
While Japanese asked 7 Samurai what the Bleep* Ken Wilber was to do..

So forth the ride is funny when the wise men are about to calm the rapid writing down
Then I can come home for money which the rich men will pay me for being a literary clown.

Only Death

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

Only death can accomplice the accomplice
To the greatest theft of all time
Settlers of the sting of the century
All money in the Cloud with Rishi’s rhyme.
Who is Sunak when the lights go out next year
No conscience and no wife to insult the Queen?
Who is Sai Baba hiding his life
,
When Chris Cornell is where the idol worshippers have been?

How will England grow without her own staff?
Enrique Moses bowls crap compared to the past.
Why do you smoke weed with Bill Gates?
To measure one long generation only to caste?
It is because of the sadism and the masochistic mum
The actress who taught Mrs and Mr to Radha Krishna
Then the moon turns and the tide draws near
When centuries are counted and not scored in India.

Click.
Click.
Slog.
Boom!

Common Parent

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

How much he takes out on us
Riding the bus like a common parent
Things that he meant to say but left in clues
Something for me and the politician’s cold cold hearts.
Blowing the socialist world wide apart
When the Wiley Coyote shit is ugly like a bird pooing on the alligators down by the African stream,
As friendly as an Oxford hall
When the men were nice and the problems were small.
Oh how the ages have been unkind to the mind
Stained glass windows with the gaul to show up in my house
Chasing the rat to beat the scientific mouse
When the culture fades into an LSD spin
And the naughty mouse wins to epic the story for the Djinns.

Mentalisms

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

I’m not that kind of poet
The type that times the earth
I know where I have come from
It’s just not that kind of worth.
I’m angry with the children
They won’t listen to what I’ve got to say
And by the time I get a hold of them
I don’t write about The Gay.

Who wants to know where Jesus is hiding?
Who wants to see Muhammed’s disrespect?
Who thinks Guru Nanak can have an equal?
Who likes Krishna to love some regret?

Maybe that is the continuance
The meaning of life for the 21st Century
What happened when Eliot befriended Krishna?
And wasted lands for his alliance with Sannyasi.

Tomorrow’s plans may spring from an asset stripped 1980s
When Kryon was a stranger to Enron too.
Where Americans face the final ultimatum from Ron
Live without the Newspapers or your politicians are through.

Where’s my Minority Report, Mr Malthus Cruise?
And those tapes of cassettes from Mini Discs of the CDs I was meant to become…
A land like India so clothed in respect for the native
Something for anyone to lecture on anything sitting on their bum.

So God bowled me over and let me be the top wicket taker
At school I played in goal and stopped cricket scores
Before being a “demon on the west wing in Hockey”.
Some fames were therefore for me & my brother played cricket for County.

… [insert Dream here]

But then we arise on his 50th birthday
A brother with no goals and lots of self respect
Responsibility for his younger and pains for his mum near death
Wandering like a ghostless plain close to his last breath.

Is it true the Rohan did not think the cousins warred
And fought like the white man to make the cemetery closer
For sex with the gang banging ginger and the necrophiliac in The Big Bang Theory
As cousin Amar throws our grades away….

What will be our saying?
Who will be our friends?
When can we call the real Time Out?
When shall we dance again?

So the monks journeyed for aeons
Lost in pain to grieve the stats
In Scientology since two brothers left them
And R J Ellory was king for a day.

One
Two
Three
Four
Is that a Hindu or a Paki knocking at my door?
Resident in England but 40 years
So certain of tattoo art for all his tears.
How can I quit drinking?
Where is the detox jokes at Rohan now..
How many Jack Daniels do you dream of: For that petri dish wife petrified of her karma and how?

[Release]

Awakening Echoes

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

At sixteen, I stumbled,
eyes half-closed to the world,
mistaking shadows for truths,
and whispers for guidance.

My heart was restless,
my mind untamed,
drifting through the tide of what I did not know.
And now I see—
India stretches, awakening,
shaking off the sleep of centuries,
her eyes wide, taking in the light,
learning what I once could not.

The mistakes I made,
the fears I carried,
the blindness of youth—
they hum softly in her streets,
in her voices, in her rising.

What I could not see alone,
she now sees together,
and in her clarity, I find my echo,
the quiet whisper of growth,
the shared rhythm of becoming.

Pride

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

What awards has Nobel given?
What estates has he blessed?
Where is the evening out of his grace?
What is a school tomorrow for his pride?
When is the State alive for what could be planned?
How long is the dictionary lane to the organised meeting?
What is the roughage of the shit of a Psychological Degree;
When all it still is is property, Flag and the Celebrity Centre of Scientology?
What has the medic done in England?
What is a GP to the boy scouts and girl guides handing out cookies in America?

#MyBookieWookie ^ LSD
Time controllers again and no awards
Verification
Leader by attribution
No other nation
Tibet cannot be Rwanda
They list the causes
They control the donations
Now he sighs when all is branded
Now he complains when his Indian sex orgies have been commanded
What is the complaint that Arjuna knew to give Krishna
Once a nervous breakdown, always unreliable.

For why do you war, Russell, and shit on the talk show couch?
What are these laws you speak over & why does Jimmy Kimmel and Matt Damon make you say “ouch”?
Who did what to whom when Rishiboy graced the world,
With a flash of Depakote for Epilepsy on the BBC?
When Aishwarya wore leather for Wossy?
And his fat ugly wife bought shares on Images on the computer?
When is a King so inert?
When his Princeship is codes in a predicted poet?
When is his child so revert?
When blondes are their prediction from a poet?

Slow down there tiger and lets lets,
For Akaash Rani that you won’t let go…
I know all the biographies of demonic English writers
When will you share with us this Krishna,
For God’s sake, surely, that is what we’re having a go at?!

With

(Yo Mama)
The Pharcyde on Cassette in the 1990s
So tell them Noam as you hide your plans
To dominate the world as Plato from victory land
That Israel is Is it Real for the worst of human kind
And shit on a Church that Bill Clinton still wants to teach Russell Brand to find.
Give us the tape from Hulk Hogan, sir, of your cock being sucked
For the losers in Haridwar that Will Smith taped to touch
Then, maybe then, you’ll see the Rish out in public land
As the worst horror of politics so old, white and demented for anger to understand.

What were your local elections and how do you follow the teacher
For Abishek using Aishwarya too many times in print
Run the hurdles in your private schools on English land for a stint
Turn around that fashion in the world of time
Pity the failure you see in Rohan and Ritesh that is not karma…
Give Peter McDonald one more try
For an essence of Indian law courts with Jenny Afia and a Jewish creampie.
Once

#FreeTibet is not my organisation
I wrote #TibetForever because we were 1990s Scientology