kashi

[written to a tune from the evening ceremony in veranassi that got stuck in my head]

we want your money, we want your cash,
so please give us leave to sell you our trash,
to shave your beard, to tell you you're weird,
we'll give you our food so your mouth will be seared.

can you count our gods, or our people?
there'll always be more once you've had your fill!
we'll keep on pushing and never stop
not caring or worrying if you've blown your top.

don't you want to buy flowers?
it's good for your karma and earns you powers!
we'll take some more money to let you bathe;
the ganga will cleanse you: hey, look! you're saved!

fecal matter is strewn on the floor
enhancing the smell of the wretchedly poor;
our holy men, they all stare vacantly,
surrounded by vermin, and louts, and pee.

how did you know that i'm selling things?
what gave it away? is it all of my rings?
don't worry, no business, just come with me -
to my brother's shop where the items are free!

come to my temple i'll sell you some drugs,
whatever you want, power, wisdom and hugs;
our temple's your temple, just take off your shoes,
here we will sit and discuss all your blues.

don't you say no, it's impolite!
you have to agree if you'd see the light;
we have all the time in the world to spare,
picking your pockets with politeness and care.

come aboard! of course you need a boat!
it's cheap, you can row, or we can just float;
watch out for the goats, they'll eat anything:
the plastic, the paper, your brand new gold ring.

no rickshaw, no rickshaw, no boat, no silk!
please let go of my hands, you are making me ill.
oh, when will these touts and this begging cease?
stop touching my feet! let me stand here in peace!

resigned

resigned, it's just a letter
nothing special, could be better
that, once sent, becomes a word
it's my voicelessness heard
like all others, it's a process
it's a way that i can possess
a state, both past and present
something else, or something latent
that's together, that's apart
in the wrong order, in the dark
when the giant, crushing fist
coming out from the mist
to squeeze my head tight
to squeeze with all it's might
i'm peeking out through the gaps
in these thick finger-traps
i call out, my voice firm
though my damned soul does burn
there's no suffering, there's no pain
i won't do this again

i'm somewhere else.
i'm someone else.
i walk through the cold and dark alone,
my eyes on the moon and the stars,
my brain sticks to the realities of now like chewed gum
i've been pretending not to notice.

leaning against the wall outside the club

here i stand on the street
rapping off a neat beat
tapping off with my feet
tightly saving the seat

for the king, with his crown
the best meter in town
more imperial than feet
are the words i don't eat

i just pick at the bones
and avoid all the clones
they're the rhymes that i've heard
heard again, they're absurd

it's the dirt of the word
like a cheap, plastic bird
in the mouth, it's worth less
than the sound that you heard

so i'll change what i'm saying
it's the game that we're playing
it's you wanting to think
and my wanting to sink

all these bombs that have failed
to explode, to have nailed
all my dreams to your mind
in full colour, make you blind

yes, i want them to sink
into you, but they won't,
so i'm calling it quits
once i cared, but you don't

general gripe

welcome to my sweet little mechanized state
where the military industrial complex churns out weapons of hate
we can wipe out all our neighbours before it's too late
but only if we're weak enough to take their bullshit bait

we march down perfect beachfronts singing ditties and love
while panic and terror rain on from above
when there's nothing to do but take off the glove
and swing out at ghosts while we strangle the dove

the macho men swagger while frail women swoon
all stare disapprovingly as they pass by the loon
he's smiling and laughing, what a buffoon!
'cause he's not willing to feed off the lies on their spoon

for breathing and sighing there's definitely no time
we're all paying the penalty for a victimless crime
as our air and our water's fates turn on a dime
and our fine arts are going the way of the mime

[original post]

sinusoid

the wind blows blue sunshine into my heart
as the seagulls sing that it's spring
my jacket and windows are open to breathe
it's the air of life living that's the thing

right here and right now things will only improve
and much later we can worry about ends
it's a sine wave of life that we climb filled with joy
to make up for the deaths and the steep downward trends

the universe is as manic depressive as we
it can't help it, you see, 'cause it's you
so if you're alive and the world is in love
then know that you're loving anew

how it began

ash?
snow.
whisps.
then hints.
a few more,
followed on,
by swirling gusts,
like schools of fish,
chased by the wind,
fleeing the stars.

then came the blizzard.

a nostalgic tone

the epic eighties call me back
into the dark beside the tracks
chains rattle, steel grinds against steel
the skies are open, and i feel
.
the winds of change blow through my soul
which still exists, though not as whole
its shattered pieces sucked straight through
into the portal, shimmering blue
.
that connects here and now to you
in future broken, remade new
to order, by the devil's crew
whose screeching dreams have become true

i'm underground, trapped in a lair
of sheltered homeless in despair
transported daily to their rooms
where they count hours into dooms
.
each quietly keeping their selves hid
although sometimes they'll lift a lid
to peek out, stare straight into you
as you observe, they see a few
.
conceited, righteous, greedy folks
who'd complain of some broken yolks
when theirs are empty basket stews
their solace trapped in cheap foul brews

they don't know who, or where, or why
inside they're warm, out there they die
to think of all this fancy dress
that goes to waste and makes them less
.
leathers, spikes and face tattoos
big rigs, and boots, nothing to lose
i stomp straight through the post-war dust
to hell or heaven, life or bust
.
i whistle as i pass on through
a haunting song, and right on cue
the end note pitched, the echoes fade
the pocket's picked, the piper's paid