Eliot wrote a poem—
The Waste Land –
All are verses of a
World Peace is
The world in Pieces.
The eyes of commerce
Shimmering pale from
A harlot’s vision.
Poet Frost is
Ezra Pound is
Sculpting aesthetics in
Socrates is a pagan wizard
Consulting the tarot,
Hires lesbians and enjoys
Them as a Voyeur.
The world is a playground
Of bullets and ballots.
A Dali is freezing in
Echoing dreams of melting clocks.
A Jezebel promotes Gay marriages
And multiple orientations.
Sisyphus rolls the boulder of angst
To the peak of the Himalayas
And lo it is hurled again
To bear the burden of the Body.
I am done!
Alas I am a swami maverick of dejection.
I mumble Sanskrit—
Karma, mantra and Tantra—
I am an absurd hotchpotch
Of Voodoo, Cabala and Sanskrit mantras.
The image of Goddess Devi
Smiles candles of light—
I wink her a malicious frown…..
My body is an echo of
The voice of violence in Palestine…..
Nirvana I can pee
Sitting in Yogic poses of the Lotus….
I write God and Cross it out….
The dog of my behind articulates
With polished veneer the verses of Karma.
Verses mimic the rhyme of
An ancient mariner.
Dawn has woken me up
With the sound of broken whiskey bottles.
I curse the psychiatrist
Who fucked my life in an asylum.
Body is a floating clown of dusty clouds….
Nirvana plays the flute of a pagan phallus….
Holy Ghost why do you taunt my sin?
Why does ambition live in crutches?
The Prime Minister and the diplomat
Are doing a Photo shootout …..
Newspapers will blare their images
Like a whore wooing a client……
Brook flowing meditation, can you
Wake me in the lyric of
Haiku, I write you from
Scavenging garbage tins….
Buddha was it your plan to Nirvana
Tibet to China….
Day is absurd caught
In the monotony of reading
Shakespeare to kids….
How can I tell them that Hamlet
Was suffering oedipal complex?
Virgins crowd my classrooms
I have to be careful of the language I use.
You flower, smile decadently at me
Like frozen vaginas……
A monstrous tongue is growing out of my brain….
Can I be a Rilke to write lyric poetry to my lover…..
Bible, I read you in misery of an unloved body…..
Paris —the brothel of my mind…..
Philippines —–the brothel of my body……
My situation is worse and verse as a refugee…..
I have been denied Visa to UK
By a Bastard’s ugly scrawl in my passport…..
The West, I long to see you…..
I have the mindset of a White,
The soul of a black and a
Body that’s brown……..
Jazz and blues sink into my body
As fleshy rhythm that’s smoking a weed…..
Clouds overlap the horizon like
Nirvana dresses money into the whore’s purse
And mediates the body in undress…..
Prof. of Metaphysics where you?
You are a wretch,
Smoking consciousness through
A gutter pipe…..
Prof. of Metaphysics mumbles drunk—
I am here, there, everywhere and nowhere
OM Shanti Shanti Shanti …..
Peace only if you would stay
Reconciled in a heart’s soul
Eliot wrote a poem—