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.

Sub-Ordinary

That’s the way you made me feel
Forget about it
Outside is inside
What’s mine is yours
It’s time for the Tower of London
Treat me like a forsaken child
As I imbecile the hours away
Seeking things that my mother would say
And never getting past 11.30 without some tea and biscuits.
Subordinate this and control me later
I may quit this job and become a waiter.
Settle some debts and pay karma back appropriately
For some skull drudgery
Before the Druids come back from lunch
I have a hunch they know where I hide.
No Time For “Rawhide!”
Will things settle down as I dine out at lunch
Coerced by the conditioned Church
In the centre of Colmore Row
Things my Ego should know
There’s not much rowing going on here
As I eat my sandwich and gobble down my fears.
They seem to know I am all mouth and ears
Handling my sob story about being so single
It’s just because they want me to compose a catchy jingle.
Jingle all the way to the bank, however
By the end of the month I sum up nicely
“I’m so clever”!

Serpentry

I coil like a serpent
Spent energy and mysteries awash the daily grind.
There are things I cannot find anymore,
The old way of life
Without the English sweet shop on the corner
Reminding me of the value of wood
And old Gobstoppers in bottle jars.

It seems we have come far and the progress is on the roads
That is no place for Toad from Toad Hall

I might see him at the community fair and the Old Ball,
Running around like a mindless chicken
Inclusion in The Fall.
That fallen man and that forgiven woman
Leven bread and three Hindu Havans: –
I will include them in my community pages
Working for less than Amazon rainforest wages.

A few pounds, some pence and lots of corporate sense,
This is no time for Little Miss Moffitt!
Can you fit like a glove around my romantic love
And sell me some verse for the drive by from the hearse.
These are things grounding themselves in you
As you take it all personally, the things you have been through,
Lashing out
Striking back
Like a hack attack
Not knocking on doors at University
Studying in doors for the truth of the universe within me.

I’ll see you at three
And read you there,
Something to help me stay up top and keep mindfully aware.
Just don’t reform all the schools of thought with one foul pen
Lest you fail before you begin to keep it all within your heavenly retention.

Strains

When the MAC is under attack
From the past
From the past
The echos of silent chambers resound around the battleless brain
Causing strains
Causing strains
Mental strains and regaining Paradise with Allegro and the motionless audience
Absorbing the Concerto in the final standing
When the Chinese are pounding the phones for an encore.
Always leave us wanting more, Shantideva
And the emptiness of following Krishnamurti’s chair
When the dies at the end of the Godfather
Leaving our souls aware of the Trilogy.

Repairing the Great Divide

Script
School lewdness
Left me reeling
Graduate considerations
Consciously deceiving
Unable to talk about me
Not happy
Playing the field
Stocks without yield
The litigation of the Order
The injunctions of the disruption
Collateral disorder
Buying and selling
Waiting in the wings
Banks with things
News from Doha that slings
Mud and hyper-mania addresses
Women won’t be wearing their dresses
Waiting in silence
The waves are so deep
The weeks and months journeys are steep
There was nothing left to do
But to wait for you
My truly accompanied guide
There were so many things I tried.

Polarity

The poet’s boss
The landmine’s cost
Septuagenarian can see through
Walkabout Bar is new growth
Walk through sheet is coming up tops
Telling all with kisses who will sell up shop:
The Shoop Shoop Song
Snoop won’t be long.
:: Lunchtime laptop laughter
>> Writer’s block at 60 with daughter
How much can I write?
Don’t give up without a fight
Each verse is new to me
Yesteryears patterns were there for them to see
Over the hill of history
Noble Truths and Estate and Properties
The lines just got fiercer and fiercer
Free and fine
Rhyming and timing
Representing rhetoric
The current climate is changing
(Change without a face)
Words that spread around the room
I When will the last page come?
II Is all destroyed by four fingers typing and an adjacent thumb?

New(s) Traffic

Stalemate
There’s water on the Thames
The same misunderstanding again
The unwritten Latin is lain on the fences
Where the Oxen cross the ford
And lay the leg-up to The Legitimate.

There are ways forward that nobody discusses
As the reliant on the News are forbidden access
To forthcoming influences
And nudges from the evil empire.
Pyre
& Omens.

The confusion that will reign when the Spanish King resigns
Is not the forbidden knowledge for the Sixth Form College
As the print media churches out matters for them
And leaves the 60-year-old behind to “WAKE UP!”
: Shut the Fuck Up, Fat Cat
: {There are ways of speaking politely}
Execute this on a Boardroom floor,
With Michael Jackson {*Moonwalking*} on top of it.

Duh
Disdh
Duvh
Discdh
… is not my luRrRrv-AH!

That was about it
The long, the thick and the thin of it.
And nothing was left to do but embellish it
For the devil in the Literati
Who wanted a new Review (?)
And some sandals underfoot, so they too could be called loathed.
Greek Boats
Ships parading the innocence of havens
Slaves to yoga trekkers in the Pune and Punjab
Between the loins of the ladies of the lavishly outlaid in the London lewd lardy dah.

That will go far,
When the censors kick in and block the blockages even further: –
Charring Cross and the man stranded with Naipaul
(…“is that all???!”)
It’s all I know this afternoon: It was studying for the L.P.C.

Jury’s are in and out of the place
Like magical Nike on Mace
And the emanating nuisance of intention
Is the virginal maiden’s purity invention.

My mother did Yoga too.
Does that mean she’s on the Freshie’s Boat with the (Jew) in you?
Who’s balancing those oars;
When the ores in South Africa have not made it through?

Note:
“… she’s just a girl who said that I am not the one”

Magic

Stumbled upon
Feet on the paving stones
Nothing remarkable
Settled upon the mundane
Throwing pebbles at the windowpane
Sudden rush of blood
A gust of wind
Broken chances
Shards of glass on the floor.
I am a Cinderella nurse at the door
Sweeping up the remains of the day
Sometimes serious sometimes gay
I see the city the way it its not meant to be
Angels and demons playing with things that are very pretty
Green fields burdening roads and their drivers –
When will I sing like a lone wolf survivor?

Insanity Plea

Yin Yang merrily on high
The lightest bough is showing
Control and contact between Rama and Sita
For the insanity plea for Christian jaunting
Merged with Taoist flaws
Let me wander like a vagabond on downward fairy dog poses
To guess again (after the fact) when I am not twenty.

Saturday Afternoon at a Friend’s House

I walk the familiar road,
a soft December sun leaning over Weoley Castle,
light pooling on the pavement
like a blessing I did not ask for
but accept anyway.

The afternoon is ordinary –
a friend’s house,
a knock on the door,
the warmth of a kettle coming to life –
yet something in me moves
as if this small journey
were another chapter
in the long autobiography
I’ve been writing with breath and memory.

I carry no incense,
no mantra,
no visions of Maya or Albion today –
only the quiet knowledge
that every threshold
is a kind of pilgrimage
when the self is listening.

Inside, laugher rises,
cups clink,
the world shrinks to a living room
where stories drift like steam
from the mugs in our hands.

And I sit there,
not a a fragmented hybrid anything,
not as a mythic figure,
not as a seeker breathing in the world’s sorrow –
but simply as Rohan,
arriving,
present,
held in the gentle ordinariness
of a Saturday afternoon
at a friend’s house.

A small moment,
yet it settles in me
like a stone in a riverbed –
quiet, grounding,
part of a long story
I continue to walk
one step,
one breath,
one visit at a time.