Abandonment

Abandonment says not nor calls out to riches
Stitches are kept hidden scars invisible in the
Balloons of smiles floating in the air’s bar-care
Wind-bound only the flow like lights the glow

The beach bares each sun on each silica-sand
And each moon on each glimmering sand-eye
Where it keeps the archaeology of foams and
Each wave’s breaking and touches and riches

Footsteps of people diminished footprints of
Children their flattened sandcastles day-ends
The smells the memories of sounds all remain

Like the air now turning like the moon now
Rising like the breeze now bringing the sea
Breathing listen the heart burning in dry-fire
 

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Twenty Pound Note

The twenty pound note flies in the air like a kite
String-less the kite runner ran out of stock of it
The will and the string and the aim to send out
The will-shape to see how far the wind reaches

But the air offers free ride and the sea sends in
Back up winds and the note floats aimlessly like
A pain in the heart of the bare emptiness money
Is a pain in the heart of the vast-dug-hole where

It always rings a hole in the heart it does speak
Of only a hole in the heart money always does
But the note does not reach high nor does it fall

Too low but slithers around and slings on back
And forth always being a pain calling on tears
On which cities fall over bleeding mess of men

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Go

Leaving the airport or entering busy terminals
Busying trolleys and ferrying passengers all at
Nowhere rushing outward or inbound equally
Non-engaged in outerly or inwardly in a trance

Aiming striving to reach to resume somewhere
Else all smiles rush run and roll calling onward
Beginning for somewhere or ending at an end
But rushing on pulling things and nothing run

A good place to be to see the rushing sea of run
Of people of hurry to catch the motional lift-off
To go and not think of the back or the forth or

Not even where that it is that is the seek but go
Better it is to remember or rather not forget the
Word to go and not to leave nor carry but go go

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Life-ele

Ashes to ashes earth to earth
The spectrum is between two
The earth and the ashes and
What happens between them

Life is the archaeology of this
The bloom from the earth to
The point where fire finds it
And fuses in radiated finale

Of that bloom coming down
The dancing remains of the
Earth the matter-dust-notes

Ashes to ashes earth to earth
Notes to notes words to words
Earth to earth mingles life-ele

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The Gull

The green is made light by bleeding lights
A glistening grey evaporating out beyond
The church-spire-rise silentine moments on
The horizon all this is held by the eyes that

Look on a-distant instances of memories in
Ward unfold pain-struck hollow emptiness
Gathered together they are no green or red
Nor are they other colours speaking flows

Walking low slow and hollow times tick on
Pointlessly onward leaving no mark or print
Here and there locations claiming near and

Far times in relation of one’s being at a point
Far beyond the sky far away from view a gull
Got hit fallen down the holes of the sky all red

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Abandoning of Durga

Days spent building up the devotional upturning
In the minds of devotees while the artist and his
Disciples carry on mending her appearance blink
By blink stroke by stroke brush by brush moments

Must be given in bringing her to life to these eyes
That want to cry to her pray to her sing to her and
Seek beneficials for life multitude of peace only in
The shape of bread joys in the colour of silver rice

Durga now unfolded on to the world the goddess
Must she now look awesome an enigma the Aiti of
The Maa creation’s mother now she receives florals

And tears and offerings prayers and music-floods
Calls and cries follow the procession days later on
Abandoned she must be to the flowing river’s care

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Abandonment Sonnet

Abandonment finds its ways
Like lights find the objects on
Only to return to the source
With the touch of the reached

Motional is where it resides
Taking nothing giving all is
Where abandonment finds
Its iglesias-home risen-spire

Seek nothing hope nought
Reach nothing hold nought
Let not either need or want

Reach a-near wind-state be
Sing sacred words make not
Home in either place or time

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Homeric Pains

Homeric pains spread over the plateau of
La-poesia-de-Dante a waterfall of sorrows
Life but goes on enigma-Beowulf majestic
Sorrows and pains reshape and rearrange

The springboards of joys and the vigil of
Hopes and threading of dreadings overly
Hyper market ploys and polemical skunk
Choreographs of days and nights filtering

On and beyond the horizons of all senses
Dulled and distilled in with raw-lie-shows
Numb minds mingle in mushroom-stink

Darkness-calls crawling ants are better at
Placing themselves on the honey-leaf-life
But humans bent on desecrating the word

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As if Coming Home

In front of the hot fire she sits on her old chair
Light-fiesta riots on outside with the passing
Wind blowing over the trees trespassing over
The roofs of buildings unaware she sits quiet

Memories mean not much to her anymore at
All though memorabilia speaks for her life all
Over the flat looking at her calling calling on
She’s beyond call but sits forlorn but waiting

Holding a five pound-note like a ferry-ticket
At the terminal knowing that will connect her
To a place of some care of some touch of milk

The medicine man delivers medicine but does
Not take the tips and her husband walks back
Slowly from the door to her as if coming home

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The Tension Sonnet

Life that one lives and the plans that one chalks out
Fall apart like a spider’s helpless web against fierce
Tornado though it might come silent as a daisy-rise
Rising but sudden as the heart forgetting to beat on

Transparent peace-deals between friends fall short
Transpires tensions as new variables arrive ee open
Their chests and begin the pie-chart geometric acts
Taking shaping and remoulding all the force-lines

Of physical formulations on one’s drawing boards
There is no picture-perfect story there is not peace
For one knows not enough one knows not enough

Therefore here is the tension and here is the storm
Caused by the madness of the miracle of life taking
One’s sleep away the heart is cut-open bleeding on

(ee as in Spanish Y: and)

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El Libro Del Arroyo De Sus Sonrises

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