Blue collared dice are tossed into fire lake.
Void of sevens and angels.
Heaven never seemed so far away-
Our collective innocents...
stuck on a glue strip of daddy's latest bad trip.
Hung from a bending nail of a crucifix.
Mommy's best friend is a smart phone.
It was never you.
Faith fled the scene long ago.
Long before the Cherry men screamed...
"Drop the amendment and your freedom to speak."
Never dream too deeply.
Nor venture beyond the froth of the breakers.
The small town doct0r slinks away from the oath..
Slinging baby #33 to the slag heap.
The alleyway glistening with bottlecaps.
Needles of indifference.
The only thing left in the garden are boom slangs and charlatans.
Hissing "it isn't as bad as it seems".
Peachy Keen was thrown into the ether by a young disc jockey
His name was Jim Hawthorne, and it was nineteen forty-eight
Hailing from Pasadena, California, he was loved by the teenage crowd
Always making up words, like Hogan, intriguing and delighting them
one of the few slangs that has to be taken in by tone of voice
It either means something is really excellent, and you love it
or it means it is not good, and you despise it,
so when you hear it, listen for either playful admiring tone or sarcasm
I don’t know where it goes to or piles up
but grief is a large storage corrupting moments
of soft arousal: the body fails the mind
the screaming in the head and the grunt around
continue the night’s drunken flow
into the morning’s miserable brush
with the wheel’s slant truth and slangs
I poach in poetry to bare the sermons
lost in nostalgia or
insomnia of prayers
--R K Singh
What Has Happened
What has happend to us
we don't know.
No-one understands anyone ,
Never try to understand too.
Noboby tolerates anybody
Almost,we loss tolerance.
All seem to be right
On their feelings,
All 're running on their
Own circumference of life circle.
We Smile like a robot,
We cry like a ruddy shelduck,
We sing the song of progress
Spreading venom in air.
Are we Bhosmasur?
Being red and black ants
we are moving on the
Spinning top,
How can we get down to the earth?
On the mass of rumour and slender
The earth is shivering,
It's time now,
It is high time to stop
The daily practice of
Attacking with arrow of slangs.
The word is Truth
The word is Brahman,
we 're the son of God,
we are epochal.
Why we don't know
What has happened to us?
I live on the other side of your revenges
I touch your words, learn slangs
And get frozen inside
Those artful revenges
Those skillfully uttered darker words
That neither gives purity nor spiritual depth
That each religion teaches us.
I know, in return you will slap my conceptual core
With one, and then another and then another;
Wiping each goodness left inside
With your humble eloquence
Of a dead soul.
Las Vegas, Pigeon’s Paradise!
At the Angel Park Golf and Country Club
The pigeons sported neck scarves
Of iridescent iris, white and blue
As they hoped with expectations
Around divots in the turf,
Now filled with sand and seed
By a golfer's hand
And side-eyed morsels with
Tilting beaks in obvious delight
Seemingly in agreement
That heaven had dropped
Here.
Pigeon’s paradise!
At the Golden Nugget Hotel and Casino
The people sported lewd t-shirts
Of sexual slangs or comic twangs
As they hoped and smoked with expectations
That gurgled and beeped
As neon lights flashed numbers,
Slots filled with flashing icons
By a tycoon’s hand
Yanked and cranked handles
Seemingly in agreement
That heaven had to drop
Here.
People’s price!