As whom in a state of undress
The thought of disclosure
Stimulated by is
That unheard for a royal court's
"Could they but know of my
Room's silked indecencies!"
Redding Poem 2
"Sacramento River WordScape"
These descendent waters swim like mad lagoon fish,
Heading decidedly south with a fiery mindless turn,
Their cool liquid urgencies reaching to all sides enticing
The bosomy turning earth and its pectoral indecencies,
With an impotent power unknown to anyone alive now,
As watery signatures knife their way into the crestfallen sand bars,
Adrift in an ambiguous undertow of death-marked reticences;
Swimming and floating lazily as a red lily floats downstream,
Enveloped cooly in blue clarity, absorbed by diamond sureness,
These arching trees lapping inward the reeking salmon atoms,
As rippling currents of heaving hands and wild bone sneezes,
Salvage the unsalvageable, and a solitary blue bird
Jiggling a crimson ring, as it bobs upon its ascended perch.
Fascinated only by pathological manifestations
Of the subconscious mind
A peculiar mark of unfounded substance
A glaring light upon the hinterland
Perceived as negation
In which perception takes place
The implications of shallow existence
A recourse of ragged indecencies
That intricates the fallacy of life
With so much refuse and slag
In its labyrinth of cohesion
Beneath it all lies constant turmoil
That stands against all vicissitudes
Opposed within the same genus
A recognition of man's existence
I try to inverse the Truth
Thus the latter becomes defined as oblivion
And shallow existence
Those things that cannot be reversed
A peculiar mark of substance
Perceived with utter perception
The truth that colludes
Thought provoking propositions
And implications of rugged indecencies
That have been enumerated
Among the Insipid faces
It's not easy to state
What it is that which you don't understand
And don't want to understand...
Staff Meeting
At my desk each morning,
over my first cup off coffee,
I call the staff meeting to order,
a gathering together
of my various bits and parts
that scattered in the night,
each to its own devices,
be they terror,
notes on that yellow legal pad,
erotic fantasy,
unrepeatable indecencies
uttered in an unfamiliar patois,
a mélange of whirs and clicks,
whooshing breaths,
mah jong tiles scattered in patterns
I don’t understand.
On mornings that don’t hurt
they settle gently
into orderly arrangements,
designs and lines of poems,
the fabric of my day.
Other mornings,
the more ordinary ones,
they reject my need,
become ash
that I scoop into the urn
of yet another
lost
day.
Such a short time we are here before we say goodbye.
Time is never wasted it just flies.
As the years go by and time fades away,
Just like my pain and sorrow from yesterday.
Tomorrow comes and then again it goes like it did before.
I always pray for my ambition to develop into something more.
Sometimes I get lost inside my thoughts and dreams,
As I wake up I hope it is reality even though it’s impossible as it seems.
The moment of existence has no persistence, in time.
Remember time waits for no one so don’t get left behind.
So much time is wasted in things that have no worth,
Things that seem to take the place of what we know should be first.
Time is forever getting lost and it is invisible,
It has no enemies or friends, now that’s incredible.
There are so many lustful envies and ungrateful indecencies,
I believe that too much time make way for unwanted tragedies.
Our society has embraced violence that is excused by insanity.
I think this society should be judged by the lack of its humanity.
As the hands of time keep moving,
We people of this human race have to keep living and evolving.
Clouds of misery; they rain down upon me,
I’m at a loss, where else am I gonna be?
From sleepless nights to the endless days…
I stand still somewhere between the land and the sea.
Sky is sinking as the sadness triumphs over sorrow,
I gaze at the distance like there is no tomorrow,
Bitter and jaded, hope is lost and all is faded
Life races on well up-ahead but I’m just too tired to follow.
Time heals all the wounds but years do remain unkind,
Today slips in as the tomorrow leaves me behind,
Lonely heart’s tragic hurts and indecencies of grievances
Dark is rising, I sit around, I don’t care, and I don’t mind.
The shadows of the night lights up my spirit,
The rage of the sun denies the day’s one true merit,
Evil or divine, what awaits me at the end of the line?
Deemed by the demon, saved by the saint,
Or life, at the centre of grand cosmic writ…
(C) Obaidur Rahman. Published in the poet’s debut book of English poetry titled “The Mystic Inferno” in 2012.
My age is soon to fall away
Youth as promise shall fade forever
Nights appearing more than days
I’m no more than I am... perhaps lesser
The life I took to be dedicated to
Change me immeasurably beyond all aspects
A denial living without approve
With the simplest of solution no more I can prepare
Years of solitary with without someone
Did I change? No one wants the blame
Finding answers upon questions rerun
Suppose to the rest... my life became a shame
A wealth with nothing to show for
All that was known equals unknown
A pursue into life without applaud
And I still need seek to atone
I would like to think I am young
Years simply fall rapidly away
Amongst humanities’ indecencies to find fun
Better nights than enduring days
A crazy woman lurks the halls,
She shuffles to and fro.
Distant eyes, wiry hair.
Her plight, sadly I know.
She ghosts from room to room,
Her touch is cold as ice.
Distracted and detached,
I’ve met this woman twice.
One day when things seemed perfect,
She appeared before my eyes.
Whispering indecencies,
Spreading vicious lies.
A sadly diluted character,
Embraced the vein filled hand.
She and I would visit,
A dark and lonely land.
Family watched in silence,
Tears would fall like rain.
A crossroad we encountered,
Welcome to…Insane
A cocktail of pills, keep her at bay.
Stability the key,
Embarrassed and ashamed,
The Bi-polar side of …me.
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