your mind’s been raining
come inside my umbrella
i’m your wet playtime
got to wash you right off of me,
and rub myself dry with you:-
the nigh-towel that couldn’t give two hoots
thinking in my pants
sat down in a warm, wet patch:-
wish you had made it
From India:
this is not a cult
find freedom from religion
in amma see god?
shop man wants to lick my eyes;
hepatitis shawls
cover my shameful shoulders
i’ve been eating dahl,
spitting lentils, unkind words,
my foul yellow tongue
releasing my bowel
sitting for hours on taailet
impatience my unvirtue
two hundred rupees
pays me for my services
cheap quick teenage romp
another blonde girl
sleek long hair blows in the breeze
was i your fluffer?
Other Poems:
When I eat meat in tins I think of you when I reach out with dirty paws to grab a stained glass I think of you
and it’s not even half empty
I think of you
When I play innocent son by the fleet foxes in the pub because I’m drunk and have taken over the boozing world I think of you
When I see the news on telly and don’t understand it I think of you
I think of you and these are the things I think of you and I wish I could write poetry more like the beat poets when they say “you are only as far from me as thoughts are from thinking”
My lost love, I think of you x
Udaipur
on the eve of gangaur the sky broke
the thunder came and lightning struck down
the lizards came to rest in my witches haven
the begrudging rain stubbornly fell upon the lake
with full but unsatisfied belly I sipped my cinnamon milk
still only a thin layer of rain refuses to quench the arid wasteland
I can hope for more, but settle for less.
uninteresting humans stuff their holes, eyes not registering the transaction
a mosquito declares battle with my covered body
nearing drums and bells provide a dramatic soundtrack to the non-action
periodically I repeat the mantra; ‘do not force octopussy on me again’
and at last the rain thumps down upon the tin roof
soothe our souls, save our souls, cleanse our palates
Tragic Love Affair
Tragic love affair
Let’s not break the silence just
See you everywhere
Whatever there is, it’s still there
For me it’s love – for you despair
Coming down on the double
Withdrawal beats trouble
Tragic love affair
Confines our selves to what is there;
For me it’s hope – for you, despair
Ts and Cs
Though we haven’t set out our terms and conditions
My days full of doubt produce dark premonitions
I have kept my manual but lost the guidelines
And my freedom pass has been kicked to the sidelines.
I time travel to you in the quiet hours
I find you there on our distant star
When the daylight comes the truth sets in
There is no launchpad for this spaceship we’re in.
And though I’m holding onto you and you’re holding onto me
There’s no premise, no room, there’s nothing here to see
Should have kicked off my heels in the carriage home
But now I’m very much with you still, and very much alone
Four legs good, two legs bad
Physically flinching at the rasping overeager lanky mistake of an embryo
As he comes to my desk, all bent in the wrong directions
I dart about for cover but they’ve all abandoned
He says “oi’ve, oi fink oi’ve got a telly. Where’s parfways?”
I wince inside I twist and scream and want escape from human form
“I do not deal with property”. Coldly staring he is dismissed without command.
He is not impressed. But he is more impressed than me with he –
Though an impression he has left, chiselled, embossed on the upper edge of my work-soul
Pumice stone nonexistent till 5 thirty o clock.
Pumice stone of sulphite wine
substitute for opiate
three days my get-out clause
four days my downfall
four days my prison wall
three days my arsenal
waging war in working day
wishing death on compatriots
pushing peace to go my own way
a junkie for time, a slave to the clock
Poem for Laura
Still the pain of love lingers on
When I look at you looking at him
I can see how much it hurts
Falling into what you’re in
Still.you.strive.on.
It’s what you’ve gotta do to get to the finish line
Only love has no end
So you climb every mountain
But the summit’s out of sight
