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Sexless Solitude And Other Poems

1

DON’T JUDGE ME

It’s still related, but I don’t understand it

or they don’t want to understand because

I am too much with myself and worry

about her dying libido and mine

own sex shrinking amid the salsa chill

Bihu fever, Vishu rituals

the ringing void shakes day and night

youth wrapped in age to play with a single blade

to carve the image of heaven in the forked flame

cause a jealous God undo

the sins of the race flow in my blood:

I love him through the bodies he created

but they do not understand redemption

in the stirring and parting of the sea

they do not look forward to the flame of the henna

on her palms a thread for the lily to bloom

in the valleys, use cracks and cliffs

insulting beauty and sharpening voices

don’t judge me if i’m not white

the water still flows in my river

2

BARBED WIRE FENCE

My window opens

to the back of the garage

where the guards make water

sometimes they show their dick

to the maid in my kitchen:

they don’t care about anyone

how can I complain

if boys and girls make love

in the bush between

children’s park and

my yard? They are distanced

barbed wire fence

3

OVERLOAD

It goes upside down

electric circuit

in brain cells

in my drugged dream

I swear

inattentive to

victims:

I can’t help my senses

overload

4. HAZY SUN

Desire to sweat

breathe new sketches

with a mental pen

on the pillow

picture by picture

the night passes

not know

what a misty sun

rose from the sea

5. CONSTANT

Nothing to do with trees

he doesn’t know his family

standing aside, questions

ancestors do not change

mood of time:

the paper reads his name

6. PEACE MISSION

He is amazed when he sees

so much corruption

in the system

world peace:

his colleagues enviable

of your foreign trip

with the UN

and earnings

in dollars, rise so fast

in career and

have the best of

life and style

while I take care of

freedom in the Congo

untamed people

safe stay

7. WINTER

The day is shorter

the night is longer

and still sleepless

suffer darkness

in the air in bed

I listen to the roar

or a whisper of

care without wings

there is no high poetry

but nightmares trimming

sun and sky

it could never be

8. ABUSE IN SLEEP

Smelly waking hours

turn into solid abuses

in the abyss of the head

drugged after midnight

rip off the holes of the mind

veils I’ve never worn

they are naturally disturbed:

turn to the sleepless reveal

stupid sophistry

poet-professor

unable to correct

its internal balance

and yet poses harder smashing

academic community that cares

tuppence for a native

geniuses who unmake

imported comrades who

dovetail media flourish

9. AGAIN AND AGAIN

Again and again

I’m on the bed

my sacred space

but he can’t relax

meditate or dream

now fail to have

which I always had

her naked company

with tingles of laughter

clouded with passion

i can’t celebrate yoni

deep into silence

renewed released returning

without finality

again and again

10. HUMAN RIGHTS

Activists for human rights

discuss eradication

manual cleaning

and construction

wet toilets in villages

in the conference room

complain of poor flushing

in the WC of the NHRC

and routinely censor

junior staff

before foraging

for rehabilitation

freed butchers

11. JAGANNATH WITHOUT EYES

I can’t understand

their mystical paradise or thrills

adopted into awareness

temporal intricacies

or sources of plastic fog

through the mythical depths

the wings of my thoughts

are too low to rise to God’s height

or the blue depths of peace

I stand on the edge

physicality of the country

waiting on the edge

with shadowy features

and curves to the image of the march from

Jagannath without eyes

if no one sees

the collapse of the procession

and a dark area

do not blame the poets:

there is too much emptiness

and the gloom to ignore

12. AWARENESS IS IMPORTANT

Every death has a passage

surprise the dead

awareness is important

no consolation cow’s tail

in the middle of the river

sky, far, too far

13. FROM THE WINDOW

Tall buildings appear

grow like trees from airplanes

they slowly rise high

people become tiny

with chariots of waterfowl and beasts

in the summer flame

nervously worried

observe a moving mass of clouds

from the window

eternal patterns

a natural wonder on the edge

stripe of orange

thousands of lights

sparkle in colors like the stars–

fastened with a seat belt

14. ON HER BIRTHDAY

I wish you the best of life

but you understand too much

which i can’t

you have to be patient and do

what can you–

They cannot produce fruit

I can create space

for you to stand but I can’t

become legs

you have to run the race

be yourself

what are you dreaming

the redness of mars

and the whiteness of the moon

melt into you

you have worlds to conquer

and miles ahead, my dear

you have to raise the goose

and have gold every day

15. THE DEAD ARE RESTLESS TOO

Following the corridors

in mind for seeds

misplaced dreams now turned away

nightmares that medication can’t control

there is no use in mock meditation

Yoga of God or psychic

mumbo-jumbo escape

the beasts within have been nurtured for years

now I’m afraid of every movement

suicide attempt, but dying

is harder when

and the dead are restless

16. IGNITE MINDS WITH EYELASHES

I read them but my prayers

it cannot be tomorrow’s news

nor could the pictures mean

channel surfing with coffee

at the end of the day it cannot reflect

take something positive

self-justifying pride

age or hours only lengthen

the existence of an animal

prove worse than animals with

the smallness of the environment and concerns

forgotten like news

media without vision

glorify the shackles of

darkness to bluff God and people

yet set minds on fire with blinks

17. CRASHING INTO SELF

How to weigh the breath

flame of souls or ashes

the body hides:

I can’t turn my insides

nor know the weight of life when it is lifeless

between earth and sky

disappears one with

elements silent

there is no way to find out the topic

that is, its binding mechanism

provides life now or

beyond what if I can’t feel

color weight

on the leaves on the tree maybe

shrinking into itself

18. I WAS PROMISED A NEW SUN

Walking down a long corridor

a beam of light beckons

from a distant window

forward character

gently motions for me to move

further along the passage

a large oak door appears

carved into the stone on the wall

by a strange looking door

symbols from unknown alphabets

I’m trying to push the golden latch

on the handle but it is not

open the golden key

it shines brightly in the hand

I go out in the dark

a window opens from the inside

a huge yacht to the sea

slowly moves towards

the castle occupied by the kings

with rare wealth and power:

I was promised a new sun

19. I WANT TO SLEEP

Living among the sick

and the other painful things

shall I wear except

germs and allergens that they keep

I toss and turn

from 10 pm to 4 am

maybe from day one

I never slept well, and now

I want to sleep without pills

drinks ‘zine or sex

thinkless prayerless in peace

20. MET BULLETIN

Snow all around

for the last seven days

no supplies no planes

runway all white

surviving on his small shop

for the winter in fiber huts

boring, they drink more often

and wait for the met bulletin

21. BROKEN WISHES

Three times a day standing

behind the kitchen sink she

washes the dishes

to save tears and memories

of broken desires smelling

from pillow to cracked

linoleum in a box

22. REMIX

A sense of security with shadows

live flickering images

fake selling channels:

remote control in hand

change tunes for songs my mother

hummed and choreographed

with girls and boys having sex

tasteless in a cheeky zip

23. IS THIS ALL?

With a prayer cocktail

the existence of living animals

and boasts, is that all?

in the same cocoon

the mushrooms of illusion grow

toadstools of the cursed tract

24. JOURNEY

A trip

no sense of direction

no control over

destiny or destination

I can’t be proud of the blinks

or flashes on their faces

they come and go on the train

with the same indifference

shadows of distant houses

hills and trees keep passing by

25. PSALM

Where will I find my vacation?

at the gates of Sheol?

in the dust? or in the light

living? stand still

among the wicked?

break ties and throw away

their cords that share faith

flattering language

turn the well into the sea

or preach hypocrisy

untouched by fire or air:

O God, save me from sin

calling them sinners

and bless the spirit in

time and me that I feel

your healing touch in mind

and endure without regret

the burdens of the world

loss of love and even hope

live like a lotus leaf

26. CONCLUSION

I wish I could clean up the cobwebs of legends

which covers the vision, moralizing the future

with dubious glory they urge us to turn back:

the echo of the dead resounds; no use

setting an alarm to go off in 2010

hidden in empty slogans seconds of life

a travesty is occasionally exhumed

of obsolescence of the sun ever clouded

India Gate or Delhi Circus

suffer midnight lust with rites of consumption

as the ending of a tragic poem

27. SEXLESS LONELINESS

I’m not looking for a stone bowl

Buddha used while he was here:

she dwells on the moon’s rays

I see her smiling

with wind-sculpted breasts

in sexless solitude

her light is priceless

but gifted to enlighten

silver linings

28. I HANG NOBODY’S PICTURE

It’s just the color they’re replacing

not the content and make the distance

waves swallow with wobbly slogans

that trap of tears before dreams revolts

what is the use of mourning a shipwreck in the void

or braving moral remains

or the frail cloth of day in the dead world:

it is not good as gauze for the sick

or shroud for the dying: their banners deceive all

in the name of independence

they mock millions with pointless noise

while funeral dreams haunt me in my sleep

I hung nobody’s picture in my room

but he sees their shadows masturbating

in damp corners or seduce in the light of poppies

crooks and righteous alike

29. PORTRAITS WE ARE AFRAID TO SEE

Culture is not repression

but sublimation through expression

why the police

art for lesbianism

homosexuality

naked sex or blasphemy?

vandalism policy

stifles tradition

aggravates the lower instincts

do they know their metaphors

to defy the divine that creates?

destroys the soul, the vision?

the future is not their strong wind

but the integrity of the artist to peep

into potential hell and

to return with portraits we fear to see

30. SEBA VALLEY

I don’t know what psalms to sing

or which church to go to feel

flame inside for a while

to sit or lie still with

faith to endure turmoil

beer breath by breath

I don’t know God

or goddess or mantra

to sing when fear takes hold

my being and makes me suffer

the plateaus of nightmares

paralyzing the spirit to live

and the promised fulfillment

I don’t see a savior coming

to save me when I’m stuck

I seek freedom from myself:

my troubles are mine alone

in the valley of self

I must learn to dispel the clouds

hovering high or low

Copyright: RKSINGH

Indian School of Mines

Dhanbad 826004 India

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