Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Main St. Stories


Main street was a bazaar
The kind you read about in Aladdin
Open shops
Trade talks
Bargain barters
And in that huddled mess
Roadside cafes
Chai and coffee
From Lanka to Darjeeling
A fella plays a guitar
What he lacks in skills he more than makes up in his gusto
Music binds
Speaks a common tune
He was singing Pink Floyd
And a bit of Marley
I sat in
Strummed a number
An old Grateful Dead classic
That starts with ‘I’d rather be in some dark hollow’
A crowd gathered
Curious glances
Then my mate from Nuts disappears
Reappears with a violin
Kind of
We do Norwegian Wood
It’s a hard guitar
Needs some love
A lotta love
To smoothen the edges
Make it flow
Then a young Scot hops in
Takes out a scroll he’s carrying
It’s a flute
A big fucking flute
Calls me Khampa
And starts playing the pipe
Makes sense
Being Scottish and all
Hence we jammed
Chai to chai
Bhai to bhai
Amidst all the cacophony
And making music
As best as we can
Like Exiles on Main Street
Walking on the wild side
Knowing you can’t always get what you want
But imagining the possibilities
Crossing all boundaries
Note for note
Chord for chord
Rhythm and blues
And a bit of reggae and jazz
Never hurt nobody
Like the man said
Hey hey my my
Rock and roll will never die

Indian-American Orphan:

I met a young Indian American
We’d spoken
As we traded stories this noon
He threw out the bomb
Said he was an adopted orphan
It changed him
And now it’s changed me
We are who we are
Unconsciously on the change
And on days like these
Consciously changed
What you see is never quite what you get
And so on
And so forth

Female Fears:

It must be lonesomeness
The women I see
Are suddenly stunning
From gray heads
To the raven haired
Just ravishing
In every way, shape and form
They come reborn


The beauty of a woman
Is like the waxing and waning of the moon
We watch
Knowing it’s not the moon that waxes and wanes
We wax and we wane
And that’s what makes a full moon all the more fuller
Now that we know it’s shifting shapes

Shapely Curvature:

Pleasant crescent
Changing crescendos
Are all faces of the same moon
Silently aglow
In slivering brilliance
We will never look at her with indifference
Whether she’s full
Or in a wax
Or a wane
Or a crescent
I know it’s the beholder that’s in a shifting change
For she does not wax and wane
I do
And adore her waxes and wanes ever more
When she goes full
I go bull
Where the ravishing meets the rage
In delightful relishes


Waking up scarred
To a night full of love bites
From passionate bedbugs


in plain sight hides the magic we call mayhem

Knee Jerkers:

overrated happiness
underrated misery

-these two have a lot in common

separated twins one might even say
smothered milk
fathered bastard
cosmetic experience
nursed bitterness
like two-hands on a body
neither one the better
in any order
they are essentials
in that tensioned pursuit over balance in imbalance
unnecessary ingredients
present in necessary meals of recipes
so as to avoid picking favorites
and the likely ilk
they are projections playing their allotted portions
see them as such
let them be
what they are
and what they aren't
the problem's the pursuit
and the attached labels
and monocular visions
in a bipolar world
hiding multipolar dimensions


I used to be Buddhist
now I try to be one
I used to be spiritual
now I make attempts
I used to be special
now I’m average
I used to be cool
now I’m positively equatorial
I used to be successful
now I fail
I used to be smart
now I fool
I used to be younger
now I wrinkle
I used to party
now I ponder
I used to follow the greats
now I keep company with simpletons
I used to be a go-getter
now I sit lethargic
-it not for lack of effort if I ain't any of the above y'know


Life's a motel on some unmapped road
you check in

you check out

-at high noon



And Butterfly Effects 

Failing Stains or Strains
Definitely Entertains

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

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