“I Could Have Called”
I could have called last night, you
Know; you’d have answered, of course, and we,
Removed, should conquer these deserted walls; the you and me
Expressing wonder and ecstasy de facto that two
Fine tunes in a single space find nothing in our words;
No lyrics, no grandiloquent prophesies, no binding ties,
No coy deception, fitting deposition, or bold-faced lies
To truss up seams, loose and dwindling ends; just birds
Of prey whose festive table breeds in fables, birdseed, curds
In whey–nothing offered, nothing taken–
Gilded fare in a God-forsaken
Intercourse that breathes perhaps in syllables, but nowhere near a word,
Stentorian sensations that somehow subdue a nightly desperation,
Declarations masked in stilted mantras ripe with endless repetition.
Posted in Aging, Appearances, Departures, Divorce, Ends, Estrangement, Fables, Hypocrisy, Negation, Poetry, Relationships, Separation, Walls
Tagged Existence, Lyric Poetry, poetry, Relationships, Sonnet, Strife, Tragic Flaw
…dedicated to the many who wonder what’s become of all that is and where the bottom is…
“‘The underside’ … it’s not just in tandem, ‘Once, it’s everywhere! … sigh …'”
And she was right. It seems the predilection toward
The animal appears where there is none; the tsunami’s force is froward
Where there is no place to go but straight to hell for all but those who fly
Or settle for a second-rate mortgage off the high road’s endless traffic.
And we along the shores of what’s become the greater sea who sit
And sign within ourselves no higher there, nor lower here, are aware of it:
There is no real rest from those who foment
Condescension to Creation, laced with lies
To trap the innocent, and revel in the vanishing point
Below the picture, well beneath the edges or between the joints
Of slender bones and tissues in the body politic; cries
Will rise for them and for their victims and their families,
The “taken”, “took” and “broken for which poets scribble homilies.
“The tree outside the window taps very gently on the pane … I want to think quietly, calmly, spaciously, never to be interrupted, never to have to rise from my chair, to slip easily from one thing to another, without any sense of hostility, or obstacle. I want to sink deeper and deeper, away from the surface, with its hard separate facts. To steady myself, let me catch hold of the first idea that passes … Shakespeare … Well, he will do as well as another. A man who sat himself solidly in an arm-chair, and looked into the fire, so a shower of ideas fell perpetually from some very high Heaven down through his mind.”
The Mark on the Wall
“Wife, child, brother, parents, friends…We come only to go apart again. It is one continuous movement. They move away from us, and we move away from them. The law of life can’t be avoided. The law comes into operation the moment we detach ourselves from our mother’s womb. All struggle and misery in life is due to our attempt to arrest this law or get away from it or in allowing ourselves to be hurt by it. The fact must be recognized. A profound unmitigated lonliness is the only truth of life.”
R. K. Narayan
[October 10, 1906 — May 13, 2001]
(shortened from Rasipuram Krishnaswami Iyer Narayanaswami)
The English Teacher
Posted in Affirmation, Animal, Arts, Change, Chaos, Civilisation, Distraction, Duplicity, End Times, Family, Hubris, Hypocrisy, Isolation, Lonliness, Lyric Poetry, Mankind, Materialism, Mediocrity, Mortality, Negation, Poetry, Poets, Reunion, Separation, Sonnet, Willaim Shakespeare [1564-1616]
Tagged Immortality, Love, Lyric Poetry, Relationships, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
They scrutinise the inner circle, seconds closer to the sun;
They tether vague fancies in what they see.
The goal, the Holy Mountain; the seed of moonbeams,
Sentimental grace notes in devotions on the run,
And as so much depends upon the multitudes, the hours in the flight,
The centre stage, the spotlight, so little alters the day’s applause,
The algorithms generously applied to the phrase or clause
Voiced without a thought to virtue, voids, or to the rites
Of solipsism in the critical mass, the accidental moment
Seen as just another occasional comma with little heed to order in a full stop.
I see them, I speak with them; I hear their thoughts,
Their questions earmarked from time to time–no need for comment
How much less provide a flint for yet another conflagration, yet another guess
Demanding fuel for candidates greater than the sun, never more, never less.
Posted in Denial, Duplicity, Economics, Hubris, Hypocrisy, Materialism, Poetry, Pyrrhic Victory, Sun, Zeitgeist
Tagged Lyric Poetry, Sonnets
“They Told Me All Along”
They told me all along and often, always boisterous, boasting loudly, nights
Would come when I would feel the season’s counterfeits rally round
Ten thousand thousand fresh laconic smiles…
…and sweet obscenities chasing tails, and bound
For fiscal glory, …yes! I knew they knew it could not last–nor might
Not more–minutes, perhaps an icecube’s stand, this half hour, or that,…and yet
They always raised their fists on high, and swore,
despite their losses surely, yes, they’d do it all again, and lay
Their life’s breath’s money where their wit is hatched–within the mouth–to slay
Nine dragons thrice betrayed, and thrice removed,…
…and reconsider fiduciary exploits…. No regrets.
Their bellies’ joy in shredding….No! By God! Dissembling…
…they were, and lying then.
They’re lying still–standards to the clan, and even after desperate stares
Surround their own destructions, bloated souls,…
…distorted cancer-yeasts, they’re all aware.
They scribble texts, graffitied mountain tailings, organs failing, seal their place:
“A hand! Extend a hand” they cry,” and deal the cards again and as we live
We die together…” “Well, the hell you say! In the Fed we trust; the government forgives,
for goodness sake!””…Mae West my friend, she’ll tell ya!
…goodness has nothing to do with it!”