July inTexas,
it’s hotter than a jalapeño
doing laps in cowboy boots~
so hot the cows are fanning themselves
with old election leaflets;
so hot the armadillos
are applying sunscreen in the shade.
But the farmers have it worst of all,
their chickens are panting in the coop~
so they’re feeding them crushed ice daily
to keep things cool and sane,
because one more scorching afternoon
and those hens will start producing
breakfast ready-made:
hard-boiled eggs straight from the nest,
no stove required.
No matter what I do,
No matter what I don’t,
Return one day I’ve to
This water hole-- hangout haunt.
To this polluted river
Fouled by me to wash me clean,
Me, the same old beaver
To build my lodge anew and green.
To plough my own karmic field
To sow seeds, raise my food,
If or not they would yield,
Yet, I must try still if just to feel good.
And find I must my own fault
To start all over again,
Wash my wounds-- there’s no alt
But to play the same old refrain.
Guru there’s nor a god-man
Nor a ready-made lotion
To rub on my wounds if in vain,
Imbibing same bitter potion
And search for remedy,
Create my own antidote
To cure my self-wrought malady,
Life is to struggle, swim sans boat.
No matter what I do,
No matter what I don’t,
Return one day I’ve to
To this water-hole-- hangout haunt.
_______________________
Musings | 07.05.2026 | life, philosophy, river, quatrain
in form cascades
ready made bliss
we wade therein
THEORETICALS
existential
options
contemporary
ready-made
parallels
perceived
superficial
signals
discerned
concepts
of
eclectic
completeness
chaotic
& evolving
process
to
practice
& participate
retro
recognised
spaces
to interpret
with
enlightened
creativity
our turret kept falling off, but still we played
the sand was wet, our fingers gritty and splayed
we were in the hot sun, there was little shade
mosquitoes were biting, we smelled like Raid
mine is the best yelled my irritating cousin Slade
Um, I beg to differ, yours is pretty much third grade
We built sand castles from scratch, not ready-made
A time so much fun, we forgot about the Everglade.
I am a muse unto myself
drawing my mind on
broken mirrors
Shards assemble like
puzzles for expression
painting a future
drawing nearer
My rearview is perfect
picture
that is insightful
in my eyes
I learn from all that I
experience
therefor I am
forever growing wise
My truth makes a fool
out of lies
because they're false
& never real
Some fools will set eyes
on solid truth
looking for things
that they can steal
It's amusing how real
it can be
but it's not a joke
& never funny
Runny lies are like eggs
with feet to boot
ready-made for mouths
forever running
They move with a rhythm
like cunning snakes
out of place in
God's garden
Not pythons but mocks
on dirty grounds
in dire need
of one's pardon
Soul’s light in heart caged,
by ego upstaged,
when thoughts cease is seen,
mirroring God’s sheen.
Words cannot describe,
zing of bliss beat’s vibe,
cascading within,
playing on our skin.
The slow benign burn
in mind-body urn,
fixates attention
in meditation.
The table is laid
for bliss ready made,
revealing soul’s light,
in heart shining bright.
ETERNAL QUESTION
We all live in a world full of belief
Yet often with little understanding
And sciences too, deep at its roots
Religious compliance when it suits
Yet with a loyalty to the branding
And for some, can still offer relief
Ready-made answers for unknowns
Especially if there’s to be no analysis
A link to God doesn’t need religion
Yet faith still does require a decision
Some think technology is its nemesis
Like reading prayers on their phones
A supreme being can be a soft option
Even seen as a diamond in the rough
All is then done and dusted in one go
The book may be all one has to know
Alternative explanations always tough
Religions are over time, a concoction
Some claim a special insight or vision
And gaining that special pass to Bliss
Paying the ferryman to cross the Styx
As the Devil is always up to his tricks
Other options might be easy to miss
So hold back on all that easy derision
the mind is open for a change
Headless embrace an easy life a lift down the seventh floor to a foyer and doors that open automatically a café serves one from cooking peeling potatoes and ready-made salads
a walk in the avenue of shops that have empty words while expensive cars drive driven by owners whose sense of beauty is a Musk truck dead steel against the greening grass
then you know there will never be dog hair on the sofa, and there will be no happy, friendly dog you're here and she is content
You plan your escape from the trivial, how fast a lift takes to ground level, but meet an obstacle called old age and the maidens have gone
Finally, you see yourself in the bathroom mirror the ultimate purveyor of truth, the loss is
absolute, but despite that dreams are bigger than you whisper and tell you of a way out
as magnetism causes ego to fade ~
the table is laid for bliss ready made
rapture rises even as we stand still ~
all the doings are done by divine will
consumed by God’s flame in mind-body urn ~
relinquishing fear, we willingly burn
Your looks to carry your first impression:
Your dresses ! Onlookers to appreciate.
It is said ‘ Choose food on own decision,
but select dresses on choice of associates.’
Your looks to lie on eyes of beholder.
Dress must fit well and also to look nice.
To tailor or give ready made order,
priority : how you look, not the price.
Several dresses, my closet to hold
uniforms, traditional, or casual
for summer, rainy season or the cold,
fashionable, formal, occasional.
I choose dress to look smart and elegant.
suitable, if made for an occasion.
Selection of dress ! Very important.
Dress to advertise my first impression.
I wear all types of dresses : typical
Bengali and North or South Indian
Assamese, also morning walk special.
Even feel free in some dresses : Western.
India - born, me specific Bengalee.
USA : my second home more or less.
I feel comfort in Jeans-Top, in Saree.
Long skirt -blouse : my most favourite dress .
the table is laid for bliss ready made ~
in the void wade; know love assigns no grade
join the green tea home parade
leafy dancing promenade
take a sip
wellness trip
natures curing ready made.
sputtering poetry,
the impotent poet
tells me, she was
“…puttering around Pittsburg.”
potent poetry. perhaps,
alluring alliteration
potentially portends
the winch to wind up
this bucket of water.
diviner twitches, dips,
dares to deviate
direct, dilate.
like a mad scientist, moronic
not to move these ready-made
sputters into a test tube, shake
and let them explode!
an avid, alliterative logophile
holds the power to possess,
to render the procession of
spoken word into usefulness.
alert to the prowess of moving lips,
gears cranking creativity and giddiness,
glad tidings go on and on, when
sputtered with regards to my sister’s trip.
Comes a time of unbreaking
what's broken
maybe broken to the point
a thing can't be fixed
ever
forever
severed.
To be sure prayers can find a home
but not when a divine plan's mark
is missed
yet must insist
with clenched fist
I resist.
A simple woodcarver, be
like Mister Geppetto
fend off a life of despair
perhaps with a little help from
a Fairy with Turquoise Hair.
For a creator
nothing causes elation
like its finest creation
seeking salvation.
All may end in ruin
in stringed freedom's destroy
it's never easy
bein' a wooden boy.
Life's call is abrupt
so keep your dukes up.
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