Something Like A Flying Kiss

Life is a person sitting up there on high
scrunching up these silver paper balls
from mint new cigarette packs and
half-finished chocolate wraps
then throws it down on me when
I least expect-
it's anyone's guess
And I then pelt right back
like this and this and this
something like a flying kiss!

Or else Life scatters crushed confetti
itsy bits of mindless paper or sudden showers
of honey coated ice flakes or simply just
a wake of this and that and other stuff
and then I pick up these arms full of
half-baked fluff and carefully take some
on my open palm and blow it back again
from where it came and in the harmless charming
game-in the bliss of hit and miss- it seems so
like a flying kiss!

Here's to all of us....

If James is pure and James is true
He will be fine and so will you
For James is not just James alone
No more is he a lonely Stone
For far and wide the Net has spread
To all who've heard and seen and read

And The One behind the sprouting seeds?
Of health and hope and happy deeds
Must Sing and clap and dance and breed!
No longer swamped and cramped by greed
Of petty minds and pettier deeds
She shyly seeks her Tribe and Creed-
The Voiceless Weed has now been freed!

( For Lawrence, Jasmeen, Vinod R, Vinod S, Chandni, Juhi, Reshma , Maureen, Ian, Amit, Sumit,Tanya, Vasudha, Vandana, Chetna,Biswadip, Pradumn, Nandini, Deepti C, Deepti S, Aneesh, Habu, Baba, Ma, Max,Nino, Mimi, Avi, Aparajita, Aditi, Shruti and Prasad,Rahul and Shaila, Shailja, Junu, Chaitanya, Bobby, Barnalee, Shyama mama, Apu, Iti, Khushu, Ron Dads, Abhijit, Bodhmayanandaji, Aspi, Yasmin,( their son and daughter!) Mahua, Priyatosh, Toon, Peter the Griff, Samta,Mananjit, Bharath M.,Prasad (early champion of James),Oinky,Shirish, ...may the tribe increase!)

Tis strange/How somethings NEVER change/ Here I am sitting/ Waiting for this THING to move/ And yet/I have nothing AT ALL to prove/ Except this growing feeling/ That tis ALL VERY STRANGE...

(Waiting in those 6 seater thingies which refuse to budge when you want them to..)

Written behind a business card...inspiration Hugh McCleod!)

Where The Child IS without Fear- Dr.Breandan McCarthaigh (SERVE, Calcutta)

To...responding to Junu and La Vie Boheme!!!

To nights of uncertainty
Of instant gain and no pain
To crushed coffee in my mind
And Nescafe in my usual cup
To reach out and unfurl
plucked picked cut torn curled

To riding in the wind
and treading rain
not touching it
not touching me
not touching grounds
To no grounds
no end in mind
To filtered tips
small tiny sips
nips pecks and buds

To a rough bare browned foot
placed perfectly on a
Too perfect cold Buddha feet
To badly made first films
To poems made unmade love
with the last man mannequin
who knows who cares to care
to dare to devour to simply stare

To this and that
To made up make ups fights
To the longest lasting pimple
To the dimple on your chin
To the simple sin of Chantille
To the grass under my nose
and the nose under my eyes
and all thats unpretty
and unfettered uncombed
ungroomed and undone

To wisdom, utter utter stupidity
To hard wins and softer than
a babies bottom- losses
To flossing nicotine and cheese
To triple tums and morning runs
which end and begin in bed
To you to me
To everybody we ever knew will know or never know
to everyone out there and in here
To back there where we left them
and how they never left us in turn

To turn take turns out of turn
Ever turning never still
To those still standing
To those who have been brought to their knees
through age through life's expectations ever running dry
through holding too still for too long
to the same slow disease called time
To time and when time's up and it's time to go
To simply go back home
To going home
To Ma and some Ba to Chotomama and Didabhai
and Habu up their and Bhai who's not too far
But never ever really sure how far away
To the family I was born in but will die without
someday

To phoney old laughing gangster grannies
To picking noses to bleeding roses
To Fanny and Alexander's Fanny
To every passing geese and all that dander
To nannies in the park with nowhere to park their wards
or their dreams or to even pick a covert flower without
their watchman lover looking on in lust

To lust,to a 34 bust straining to be 36...
To letting it rising to the crust but not letting it spill
Or flood or overflow to swim swim swim to the brim
To turqoise pools chlorine drenched in the rain
To faking interest to not listening
but taking it all in through my eyes nose mouth open
To the last shout to the Big Shout
To the small gains ,
To smaller losses the ones which stopped counting
to tree-walking and stopping to breathe underneath
To mulch carpets and rain tree shadows
To canopies which never cover and never hold still
Like life, to life, this last next all the lives
To listening to Marwa and Gaur geet
To second besting, never resting ever resting
To pause
To breathe
To smile
To end
To you
To me
To us
My friend...

Use

We use each others bodies thoughts minds ideas -just as so much of fodder for our art and our lives. Each and every one of us- the mother the wife the farmer cleaner businessman beggar dog stone on the road and weed- am not beginning where Whitman left off -thank you!
If we look from afar or very closely we'll see the links and how we are connected.
It's only to nod in acknowledgment as we pass each by -if that's enough- well and good. It's we who decide what a nod defines encloses and comes to mean. Truly. Or should it be just a smile or a casual calculated brush aside or a handshake or a hug a fifteen minute lasting forever kiss or a lifetime spent together doing special and ordinary things sometimes together and sometimes apart in the comfort of knowing that there is an invisible cord that binds and which finds you even if you forget or lose your way.
When do we stop? And say- ok yes. This guy will do.
Often we don't. We move on.But move as we do it comes to dawn more and more that the more we move in there is more space more time more meaning. Ah yes somethings simply fall away-they lose charm and value without ceasing to bother.
Because the Spirit is endless and it's there we truly draw from -it's that deep tube-well of dreams drawings uncertainty and the perfectly phrased poem as complete as a crown jewel.
So even if one commits to someone for this life it is in utter certainty that it's only for now- be it a man a job or a child.To commit with an open palm- to commit without clutching - to understand and understand some more. Ear on the earth- ear on the heart - ear on the soul- listening deeply. All else is utterly useless.

James the Rock -Size Doesn't Matter

Easy poems for difficult men

WALL



What if, right now,

All the tall talks

You have built

Between us

Like a great big

Mighty wall

Crumbles and fall,

And every bragging brick

From your bag of tricks

Is taken away from you?

Whatever would you do?

Before you start to walk away

I'd go knee down, anyway

In the muddy water drag

And plunge my hand deep

Into that sticky swirling mortar,

Twine your fingers with mine,

And in all that fine mess

let our bones conjoin.

Slowly set to stone

I guess!