Beyond the shadow
-
Upload
ram-krishna-singh -
Category
Art & Photos
-
view
86 -
download
0
description
Transcript of Beyond the shadow
BEYOND THE SHADOW
--Ram Krishna Singh
ALLERGIES
The barber seesa potential customerin me but I pass
the tense facesafter the long walk sunshinea fag in the car
short carnival:neatly hide faded vests dryingin the balcony
helter skelterafternoon windy rainallergies again
WHO CARES?
Death hides in the body
but who cares? it’s obscure
living on the edgeseeking space into swamp
they all talk about the sunswelling in the sky
and close eyes to the spiderspinning waves on the ceiling
all alone, but who cares?suspicion and distance
like lovers they pretendto leave yet stay longer
dishing out luxuriesshowing off generosity
on the heart’s fancy tablewaiting to welcome the guest
MIRAGE
They say my birth was a heavenly event:here I am suffering third-rate villains
that erect walls to stop the chariotsfrom Merkaba: the angels fume but who caresheaven is a mirage in human zoo
NEW YEAR
The dates on calendar questionall my undone acts
and memories that haunt or fadein nightly nakedness
stumbling toward the next day’s sunwithout celebration
at 63 January jeersmy degenerating sex
a still itch: mantra and mirrorquiet God and drying petals
GLEAM OF LIGHT
Late August:clouded midnight, sneezingrestless in bed
all negative vibeswell up the mind
jackals yell outsideI read Hsu Chichengfor a gleam of light
I CAN LIVE
I’ve outlivedthe winter’s allergiesand depressing rainsin a human zoo
I can livemy retirement toowithout pension and medicine:
the wheelchair doesn’t frightenI can live
uncared and unknownsurvive broken homethe numbness of the armsthe pain in the neckand inflation too
I SEE HISTORY CRIPPLED
Time’s wrinkling fingerstrivialize the sun and snowin a crooked land
I see history crippled
with midnight dyspnoeathe green umbrella
hosts disaster:the avalanche waits on its shouldersthe wound opens
DEAD OR ALIVE
My shrinking bodyeven if I donate what’s there for research:
devil in the spineabusing tongue in sleep
or bleeding anus
defy all prayerson bed or in temple—the same heresy
oozing and stinkingonanist excursiondead or alive
CLAY DREAMS
They make my faceugly in my own sight
what shall I see in the mirror?
there is no beautyor holiness left
in the naked nation:
the streams flow darkand the hinges of doors moanpolitics of corruption
I weep for its namesand the faces they defacewith clay dreams
SANGAM
The crack in the skyis not the rosy cleavageto rape the body
nor is the beast any freeto escape the bloody riverthat reflects stony wrathin doggy position
they all expect their rewardfor burying the noiseof sunny fire wheelingin frozen passion
turn beggars they allsearch warmth with ash-smeared sadhusat roadside tea stallwhistle and wash off sins
in sangam muddledwith privileged few soar highbut I’m glad I crawl on earthmy roots don’t wave in the air
WHY DO THEY QUESTION
If hand can meet handand embrace is not sin
if lip to lip kissingor cheek to cheek hugging
is not forbiddenwhy do they question
meeting of thighs or breasts:
divine in action
it’s spring; the body’s loveitching to bloom with soul
QUAIL DREAMS
I’ve lived 23000 daysawaiting a day that could becomegod’s day in eden, earth or within
or even my grandson’s smileon his first day in mother’s arms
now I sit an empty boaton a still riverand shake with quail dreams
HERE AND NOW
The body is preciousa vehicle for awakeningtreat it with care, said Buddha
I love it’s stillnessbeauty and sanctityhere and now
sink into its calmto hear the whisper in allits ebbs and flows
erect, penetratethe edge of life and lossreturn to wholeness
THEY TOO KNOW
Flowers don’t bloomin tribute tobuilders’ apathy
the trees are dying:they too know they’ll be felledor the heat will kill
the concrete risescalamity too will risenone talk the ruins they bring
STRANGER
I don’t know where I livedin my former existencebut the hell I’ve breathedfor three decades herecouldn’t adapt my soul:I remain a strangerto them and to the cold wallsthat put out the candle-lightsin my roofless house
INDIFFERENCE
Being goodcouldn’t make me knowany better
I was harmlessthey sold my nameand becamewhat I couldn’t
in the middle of day lightI vanished like facesfrom voters’ list
with no differenceto who wins
or who loses
I TOO DESCEND
Some fresh bones and designer dressdistorted hopes, cataract visionhardly any better the faces of the body
and if there is a soul, the soul hears
the map guides the mind’s midnightbut the destination is different
deception is courage
they know the end of journeyand get down when the train stops
I too descend
ECHOES HAUNT
Sleepy roadswith or without lighttear the sky
I watch the murmurin the misty darknessTao of midnight
tranquil emptiness:breathing deceptive coldthe echoes haunt
QUAKES IN ELEMENTS
She trusts her reading of my horoscopeand predicts a comfortable future
even as I know my toothachenow means the fall of my teethand anal bleeding means sure surgery
my dying libido is as uncomfortableas the dream of humans sleeping on the ceiling:
their flattened naked back amuses mewho knows who’ll fall first?
before I wake up I try to gauge the selvageof restless lines, moon, saturn, and venusconspiring new challengesfor the quakes in my elements
it’s already mid-novemberand the bouts of bronchial allergytell of the cycle of incarcerationher moving lips are no soporific
NUDE DELIGHT
The coiled divinerenews eternityin the body’s cellsfed on sensuous sweetnessand moment’s littleness
for years fleshly reignseemed spirit’s radiancein the deep pitnow suddenly sparks the itchfor heaven’s nude delight
LET’S MEET
Before the bananas ripelet’s meet at least once
lest the fog dampen passionlet’s water our love
the sun is bright this morningand night’s promising
let’s meet and unfreeze winterof years, drink some wine
restore warmth of faith and hopeand heal the breaches
without black goggles for seeinglet’s meet at least once
DRIED VISION
Teary eyeswith sparks and lightningdried vision
caged existenceseek deliverancemuttering old prayers
SEASON’S PRICK
Unpruned rosesand unknown grassesmake me awareof the emptinessthe dusk in her room sounds
she searches outher shadow inthe rising moon
I feel the season’s prick
DEGENERATION
When gods are out to teach me a lessonwhere to go to pray or find relief?
my prophet friends predict each day goodand the future fulfilling, the palmists findthe sun, saturn, venus and rahu hostile:
they seek money for rituals, stones or mantraswhile God gives us the best in life gratis
I can’t change man or nature, nor the karmasnow or tomorrow they all deludein the maze of expediency and cursestars, fate, destiny, or life before and afterdegenerating the mind, body, thought and divine
CRACKS
The cracks on the parapethave widened for the peepalto stay green for oncerains too want us to drenchour heads and feel onewith cool windin a dark cornershed fears and enjoy love
BUGGING
Each night a challenge:suffocative restlessnesssleepless spirits’ noisesexual starvationanal menstruationdingy subcounscious
conspire behind closed eyesabsent healing andwishful miracles
a clueless sun risesbugging time and life
NEIGHBOR
With scheming mindand crafty heartloud and rebelliousa professional loserperfumes the roomwith flattering lipsand strays a preacherto revolution
VACATION
Because I had no STD code to dial HeavenI walked into Hell measuring happinessin buried lines on palms and shrinking head:I couldn’t know when love sieved and sanklike a ship on vacation
YOU CAN’T SCENT ME
In the poems I writeyou can read my mindeven know when I’m blue
before the mirrorwhen I stand in the darkyou can’t scent me
nor will words comfortin chilly Decemberwhen alone in candle light
empty coffee cupsderide the syllablesI spin to make haiku
my hairs in airreveal the baldness:wank without wad
I TALK TO MYSELF IN BED
After a day’s laborthey lie on a sand pilein the basement of a new shopping complexrising slowly next doorlike the waves at Nellore beachthat broke before wipingmy name on the sand
I take a snap at sunset:they play with plastic bottles in wateror eat fried fish in the huts
I’m warned against placing it on Facebookshe hates my face
nor am I allowed to speakto the drug addict picked upfrom the door steps ofVarsha Apartments
his father questionsif there’s law in the countryonly a street dog wags its tail
I wheeze and take a seroflo puffand wonder if I should visitNimhans and get checked
to manage my sleep
she questions why I think of Bangalorefor treatment of all my ailmentsand takes me to Bannerghatta zoofor animal viewing
Copyright: Ram Krishna Singh, 2014