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1
A poem is
like life
sound
and silence
movement
and stillness
fragment
and wholeness
avibhiktam
vibhakteshu
like Shiva
and Shakti
lotus
and mud
2
I thought I knew her before and my heart bowed to her native virtues
each touch she offered stirred and drew me near
before entering her depths I felt how dark was the dance
I never liked to part with her but the tears in her eyes were saying: ‘no, no’
3
Your face lights up my dark chamber
the moon reclines on my bosom
this evening steals your fragrance
4
I want to rest in your lap
and drink your golden breasts
hide me in the curtain of your hair
shield me in the grove of your flesh
5
Won’t you share
my aloneness
tonight?
I need
female smell
in bed
let’s kiss
each other in our
strangeness
6
When Renoir or Cezanne or Matisse or Picasso
can play with body and capture the soul
why not poets draw on beauty in darkness
and speak in the language of Body, or write all
that animals do and men conceal in light
the aching peace must gets sway
good or bad what’s empty must be filled
if life vibrates music must sound
7
Call it spoof
or nirvana
if you like
hidden between thighs
is the spring music
beyond birth
8
A myth
like prejudice
is turned lovely
with rituals
when we search
faith
against ourselves
in ourselves
9
A flying horse perched
on the island of her flesh
without conquering the ocean:
whirlwinds galloped
his funeral parade
between the cracks
10
Singing the rituals of flesh
midst the sound of frogs
and owls by the window
I bury my sultry night
in the mosquito-net
11
Stooping over his gravid love
while he neared the coital bliss
the little child woke up
with erect penis cried
to spoil sex she slipped aside
and put out her breast to feed him
in semi-darkness virility foiled
the slough face down
12
In the blue space of mind
Winny plays her games
as in waking hours
weaving shapes in holy precincts
I recover my lost child
and the old priest calls me back
with a pearl to save my soul:
dulcet sounds ring again to celebrate
my move above the nights
13
The dress hides
undress
and you look beautiful
14
A stray sperm
grows in the ovum
blooms as a puffball
15
How hard we try to empty
the vessel that holds our seed
in her deep pleasure turns painful
causes depression after two children
we want non-creative sex:
now clean cobwebs that hold red flow
to release our post-lunch tension
16
Leaves fall
in a dust-ridden city
stars grin and body burns
vultures hover all round
passions breed in pigsty
she has shaved chromosomes
under a bloody roof
my tattered trousers remind
the bedsheets love stained
before light shone
in a sulphurous pond
I display
my naked person
to ghosts and witches
17
When I read the eyes of darkness
and loneliness in my room
I slip into my bed and unbutton
with a craving of the malpakara
knowing well when
it’s not a girl or wife
sexploitation is no sin
18
Every stain on the bed speaks
of offence done to
self, lover, sweetheart
I am reminded of acts
day and night
and pretend
hot tea from my cup
has scattered
19
Once your body was the sitar waiting for my touch
the sweet fragrance of your hair still lingers
but the cigarette that was mine is now ash
20
Islands grow like mounts
in the midst of the sea
my palm I full of circles and triangles
my fate I know too well
the crone ready to cast
a new Judgment of Paris
on the mount of Venus
is an apple
I wonder if my wife
too has sensed it
21
Giggling behind the hill
is the woman I knew
if you touch my finger
you shall know
what winter is
22
Naked
without ring
my finger
a widow
23
Darkness is a whore
I sleep with
cross-legged
without copulation
last night parted
with sinking acid
24
Road to VD through
Assembly of God over the bridge
flying cars of the State
on walls slogans of commercial gods
and the name of Gandhi shadowed
by the crossed trees near Hydel
DANGER board shifts
my gaze to veiled beauties
moving like thoughts
with the best of motives
manoeuvre to kill a poet
learning the secret of
the first menstrual flow
25
Dancing on the top of the tower
his religious fans plan to erect
Shiva’s phallus as token of love
turn kaned all men and women
before union the tower collapses
with their guru they fall into the forest
and rise again as apes the third day
26
The bearded swamy’s
vedantic discourse
goes over head
in empty solitude
he speaks
as a dying man
to dying men
27
Mute pavements
shelter meditators
in milky silence
passing beauties
denuded in water
skin shrinks
at the Ganges in Kartik
old gods leer at
their wet bare backs
in bleeding cold
‘aum’ is convenient
to soothe vasanas
no more Ashwapathys please
they’re hung up, racing in jet
to catch two white moons
28
What’s this sadhana
that he throws the bowl
at a man in the circle
and he dies instantly?
But I look for the jackal
escaping his aim
29
Simulating mysticism
they fill the hollows
through jugglery
conceal their
fractured faith
30
The night died
for nobody trimmed
the wick of lamp
31
A monkey turned the coat
to let off snakes
hidden in velvet lining
32
One by one
when the lamps are put out
every floor is dark
in this house
33
Calculating fate
through zodiac maze
last night I discovered
a dotty god rising
out of a dead oyster
34
The night drips
from their faces
like the rains
assails my vision
I fail to distinguish
man from beast
35
When there’s no market for most speech
who’ll read my loose ramblings:
it’s silly to wander far off
to designs to dismiss reality
or configurations called poetry
36
In mind
his eyes fire
his images
nightmare
the poor soul
in scorpion cage
cannot brave
the dark combats
37
I dig my mind to
unmemory the past
and become voice and time
to redeem the icy sun
to wake up the hibernating wind
long blid to dust
swirling in shapes
under emergency light
coloured virtues on sale
reflecting the night of bodies
craving burial in the thicket
of cosmetic hair
in dull music about me
flesh-eaters starving for the soul
as I kill an arrogant
snake at my door
38
The golden orb
through pricking trails
from east to west
concentrates dark
in life love separates
to upset balance
waking and sleeping
I look up and purge
static madness
39
After these hot noons
the earth
mates with rainbow
I breathe my son’s smile
and forget the darkness growing
40
This evening’s smile
seems conspiring with floating shadows
swains rehearse in dark corners
with cigarettes
I simply gobble the scene
41
The webs that hide still time
I must clean and banish
Saul from my home:
His bait is subtle
I must work out my salvation
and find again the bread of life
through the maze of rootlessness
fragmented memories and finger prints
the faceless figures in the dark
mock with amputated legs
in the museum eternity is locked:
I must rise again before extinction
42
Smoke rises from the church
Christ burns gradually
the ultimate dust rests
in His hands
for recreation
of a new lamb
43
The race of life
with an awful shadow
anterior or posterior–to darkness:
I am only moving
in the crowd of roads
in search of a road
44
Across the brown woods
I climb the naked hills
where tempests can’t reach
nor waves rise to collapse
my being watches the evening star
hanging through heaven I lose
and find again the snowy light
transposing crimson arc in east
nobody sees the lotus smile
the calm behind the chaos
fleeting breaths commemorate
hopes of eden on earth
a mystic repose or agony
I don’t know blooms, flows
or overwhelms world’s soul
in me time weds eternity
45
I don’t know the little beauty
my son curiously chases
in the wild flowers
butterfly is angelic
fleeting each time
he reaches to catch
46
Stars on the earth these glow-worms
I want to clasp in hand and offer
God as flowers of
obeisance
47
The sun sheds its radiance
over the hills as if
they water the slope with blood
to keep the eternal green
the deciduous days near end
I see the sheol rising
upon the ocean of spring
many unmoor to sail
many draw in the womb of air
48
There is a road in the forest
I haven’t trampled yet
a light glows always
for a fresh touch in planet’s belly
I look out from my suspended window
and they say there is nothing
the hungry skin for an avalanche
and parabolic movement in space
don’t translate my existence
on paints their homage coeval
with icy expectations I stand
and feel the warmth Death brings
49
The blue hillocks look at the vegetation below
green forests, orchids, firs and pines smile
over the rocky slopes horses graze and
down below a river teems with fishes
in the Land of Dragon Paro is a bride
beautiful, angelic, loving
everyone cherishes her matutinal grace
I love her, and love the mastoid mountains
of Druk Yul, a greater heaven on earth
50
The road never runs
straight in mountains
life means hazards
my line of fate runs
straight and smooth yet
roses bloom with thorns
51
There is no tree
over the mountain
I rest in shade
of a wandering cloud
52
It is not the surf
by the sea I watch
the crashing waves
on the shore I hear
the music of the wind
that stirs my soul:
you shut your eyes
and feel at home
53
The rock stands midst the sea
bulls of Bashan beset me
with snares of death
floods rise and go:
dark waters turn bright
waves touch my feet
the shepherd washes me clean
midst the sea rock stands
54
Scooped in the belly
of a huge airbus
it’s only sunset
55
Locked in giant Chandragupta
I fly over snow stacked stones
and defy clouds in unseen sun
56
He walks through the high walled narrow lanes
where children play with dead or dying dogs
that eat their own stinking flesh
he sees them sitting over the running wheels
murdered innocence peep out from windows
but no one bothers the tragic turn
57
Connaught Place, Janpath and Parliament Street look
like a platform of some busy railway station here
night is the same as day people run after
the buses or wait with their burdens
pushing or kicking insidiously doing all
mischiefs in and out I see
attempts to hide something insignificant
and so important goes uncared
my messianic dream welters on the bleeding breasts of Delhi
Playboys and Penthouses cry “Mai? Mai?”
with hold-me-tight arguments of the saucy sweet
I hear the mosaic deafs and dumbs telling
whither goes my Sinai?
58
Rouged faces of working girls
in DTC buses give
frustration
black joys of life
taking turns
against red lights
on the road
59
They board and alight
like the birds flying
from trees in the morning
wander without signature
in the evening
get lost in dark
60
After a tortuous journey left alone
a homeless wanderer comes
to the land of mines following
the dream-chandan and -geru in can
rusted stones and square smile
pelicans pictured at Nalsarovar
against a blissful clime he sues
black dusts and pollution without
going down the earth on way
spots places and people secretly
appeared many a time crawling
on a minotaurs belly intumesced
he thinks the machine is overworked
in yawning hours he eats
goats’ testicles and omelette to green
his nocturnal craze invaginates
the blues of a road, it’s vugs and turns
deo volente he treks for better
61
I play that I’m happy
like a child secretly complain
waking before the sun
I feel my taste and warm myself
against a rain of smoke
it smells only foul
like the toilet near my room
62
Crushed heads of serpents coil along the road
green glitter of stream strikes my vision
I walk and fear the growing ripples in urinal
63
I don’t see crows
turn into cuckoos
or herons into swans
in this jungle
viruses haunt
air and water
no Agastya rises
from the pitcher
no holy man changes
the corrupt roots
ignorance feeds faith
all around
rahus eclipse moon
and gurus
like comets grow
to sink life
in wild ocean
64
Going down the dark corridor
I breathe smog in the morning
walking is a quick dose to death:
traffic roars though invisible now
black layers rest on leaves
where is fresh air?
I cough my allergies and swallow pills
To live in a safer tomb
65
The Thames tolerates
bridging so much
I fear one day
she’ll disappear
leaving behind
a nullah known
only to MPs
or intruders
in Queen’s bedroom
66
The Ganges condescended
to flow down from Shiva’s matted hair
with white laughter
from the Himalayas to Kashi
it shone so pure and bright
but failed to quench
the earthly thirst
or cleanse the human heart
their sinful mind
the goddess couldn’t change
I clearly see in its apparent grace
missing all turbulence
so necessary to wash out
the ilss of ages it seems
it’s lifeless now
impotent to set right
the rotten state of man
67
Young girls and women move up and down
in the boat standing on the river bank
they carry sand for their bread
and fling down the basket, sun smoulders
men sit on the terrace and smoke hashish at noon
crack private jokes, watch sullen grace
the drowsy river flows with the city’s garbage
68
Is there enough water to quench
my body burns within
the little liquid’s restless
and the black doctor awaits
a handful ashes
to propitiate Shiva
the red eyes deride
my passionate labour
and the scourge sears each bone
it seems I’m dumb rock
no Christ will call a church
yet the flames rise
high in sky burn
burn
what can I do
if there is no water?
69
I fear the desert in sky
and hate clouds on hills
I doubt rain is potent
earth is wined by whores
70
When things were good and happy
I knew the lofe of all
now nobody knows me here
71
Love or friendship in this land
is a hoax
each morning and evening
my tent is set afire
and they say
night is illumined
72
It turns my lips blue
and fingers freeze in icy wave
I breathe frost and shiver
in the coldest ever Delhi
get up before every one and move out
for bread
73
They say
I’m a good person
plain and simple
a poet suffering
at the hands
of evil persons
like Christ
crucified with
thieves beside
and didn’t he cry
“Eloi! Eloi!
lama sabachthani?”
I cry at the 19th hour
of a sour day
“O God, O God”
74
Doctor Chakroverty
damned Mrs Gandhi
damned Nixon
damned politics
called them rogues
when I said
they’re fools
he said
no
75
An ideal minister
is a miracle of cunning
like the jackal in fables
who ate the heart
and ears of the ass
only to say
like the fox that ate
the deer’s heart
and declared later
it hadn’t any
76
Mr Dange lauds
action against smugglers
and accepts a purse of
4.5 lakhs from working people
on his birthday
I wonder how masses
subsisting on 36 paise
could collect such a dough
77
The best
of seven nations hanging
in her closet because
she’s the wife
of a senior bureaucrat
78
Splendid
these rats
enjoy favours
give nothing
receive all
79
The telephone receiver
like a hooded snake
pretty, but full of poison
80
The dance about light
humming mosquitoes
in the evening
griefs can’t be trimmed
if stings are deep:
night lurks on concerns
of the day between
surpluses and scarcities
I scratch tissues
of impairing events
or bite the curly language
to redeem hollow inside
dread of dying sun
and insects outside conspire
against wind that burrs the leaves
of years (or spiders’ net
in annually-cleaned corners?)
shacked up, in a shambles now
stamped with mosquitoes blood
my palms conceal failures
I can never erase
I can’t recover light
buried in a grave
it’s difficult
to keep form and flow
81
Sceptical yet innocent I look below the flyover
deserted landscape overrun by chained dogs and bitches while
parasites walk leisurely on the solitary road
I long to talk to someone
the sky is blind and mute
too are the directions hollow winds
blow over my head with frozen
fingers I negotiate budding leaves
images blister under yellow skins
I see cold shadows at dusk
read new myths and metaphors
in vain defy months old exile
82
Civilization
in a poor nation
is death by
methyl isocynate
hanging heavily
by multinational grace
in the cold night
each house turns a mortuary
mixing the dead and the dying
and the living turning blind
only fossils snivel
dreams dustmingle
broken visions lock
wide sky in ice-blue eyes
what have we left?
nothing remains
and none live to watch
the grand finale
of human achievement
83
The sun is indifferent there
the moon doesn’t weep
in Beirut butchered children
and bulldozed bodies testify
to man’s savage growth
from Moses to Mohammad
ideals and dreams breed slaughter
for existence barbarians
need cosmetic excuses?
84
We decry
discrimination
of the sort
we practice
at home:
in Calcutta
if lifts don’t carry
“Servants, dogs, and luggage”
why grudge
the South African notices
“dogs and natives
are not allowed”?
85
It’s outrageous
with headless heads
and paper tigers
roaring from the top
and cows resting in the porch
or listening to lectures
and dogs and goats roaming in the verandah
it’s a cattle’s paradise
humanities courtyard
is a litter of puppies and paper plates
after the seminar
they pretend to get mired in textbooks
who can stop the wheel
if it performs well
and the punctures stay unseen
86
Who will sing for you
in the street
when all your life
you ballooned words
in coffee houses
or the offices
to create epic
with scratchy jargon?
Now watch
your black mushrooms
grow wild
in the drawing room
do you fear
your shark teeth
in action?
87
I am a man
if you want to see
your image
you’ll see
your distortion only
88
What’s this
music of life
vibrating but
soundless?
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Source by Ram Krishna Singh
