chopra friends

chopra friends are
reading kopra poems
and feeling
not so bery
happy feelings.

it's so hot here,
kamasutra is not selling.
secrets of the world
in the middle east
aren't yet out,
so kabala is selling,
like burro-burritos
com picante sauce
y tequila con lemon.
all forces gone
to the middle-east,
the illegals are
playing mariachi
bands while border
crossing.

people killing people

people fighting...
people killing...

blowing up building...
blowing up brains...

blowing up trains...
blasting their bombs...

they're fighting for
Hinduism, Christianity and Islam...

people, don't kill people...
kill Hinduism, Christianity and Islam...

I'm a Muslim First

he is so called
an educated dude
with some bombastic degree
from a school in Karachi.

In star bucks I bought
him coffee with latte
and sat to talk many things:

well, tell me, I asked
why is religion important to you?
"well, err..yes, I tell you,
because I was born a Muslim."

"so I do what Muslims do -
my deen is first, everything else
is second, third, four of fifth..."

"I'm a Muslim first
my father was a Muslim first
and his father was a Muslim first..."

and if your father's father's father
a devout Hindu wasn't converted to Islam
by brutal force by followers of Islam?

would you then not be a devout Hindu,
doing what Hindus do, worshipping idols
reading Vedas, doing puja and holi?

and suppose you were born a Christian,
would you not be worshipping Virgin Mary
who being a virgin gave birth to Father's son?

is only God not absolute? I asked.
"yes, he is," he answered.
"no idols, no Shivas, no son of God either,
only Mohammad, may God's mercy be upon him."

was Mohammad God? I asked
if not, he wasn't absolute.
so why follow him?

"err.. he was the last prophet.
my father followed him, I follow him.
and if my fore fathers' father was a Hindu
who cares! that was long long in the past."

he got up and left.
it was prayer time.
the fourth in a row of
five day after day.

Got the Drift?

Einstein always wrote
All his research papers in German –
His mother tongue.
Though he knew English so well.

But there are people who
Like to debate in a language
Two or perhaps three languages
Away from their village mother tongue.

They think in their desi bhasa.
They talk at home in their desi bhasa.
In their blood and brain is desi bhasa.
Their friends are all desi bhasa friends.

So one can communicate with
Such desi people in a foreign tongue
Up to a level: how are you today, sir?
It seems it might rain today.

Beyond that, you must be kidding
To have some serious talk with them.
When I say ‘blind’ I mean: not based on reason or evidence.
When they say ‘blind’ they mean: unwilling to see or understand.

And then they try to teach me and
Convince me with their philosophies
And ask me: “got the drift?”
“No sir, I didn’t,” I say and keep my silence.

unwanted bondage

ever wondered why
this poetess painter
has no words to say
what the paintings mean.

every wondered why
her bush strokes can't
hide the bondage
that words can belie.

perhaps that's why
she's silent - telling
in shackles, telling
behind veils life's lies.

nothing much of art
is here in paintings
nor in her vapid verses.
only what is hidden

deep in layers of soul,
in paintings it surfaces.
easy to tell thrall in paint,
so hard to tell in verses.

Hindus and Muslims

religions and the duds
following religions
are interesting people.

Muslims invaded India,
raped the land,
raped the Hindu women.

converted Hindus
in millions by force
to Islam.

changed their holy
Hindu temples into
their God's mosques.

Hindus are now free
from Muslim rule in India,
but are living among Muslims.

most of whom were ealier
holy Hindus. Hindu bhangis
and Hindu chamars - the lower castes.

so the time for revenge now. Right?

convert Muslims
in millions by force
to holy Hinduism.

change all Mosques
of Muslims back
into Hindu temples.

rape all Muslim
women to have
Hindu children.

wait. were the Muslim
women of now not the
Hindu women before?

Why everybody not
become a Muslim,
a Hindu or a Christian?

or why not everybody open
his or her head, leave the
religion and become a human?

but I like your poetry

I want to meet with you.
let’s meet for some coffee.

why? I’m busy.
I don’t drink coffee.
I drink screw driver.

ok. I will drink screw driver
but I want to talk with you.

talk what?

about writing poetry.

don’t talk about writing
start writing.

but I like your poetry.

so what? many like my poetry.

but I like more than them.

how?

when we start drinking screw driver
you start reciting your poems to me.
I’ll drive you to thinking screwing me.

now, now you are talking.
come to my pad 11 pm sharp.
no dilly. no dallying.

who owns christianity?

who owns christianity?
dumb question
simple answer
people, stupid.

who owns love?
who owns hatred?
who owns peace?
who owns war?

and who, tell me who
who owns God?
people, stupid.

democracy of the elite

in the USA today
there's democracy,
but democracy
of the elite.

in lesser democracies
the leaders loot
the countries illegally.

in the USA of the right,
they loot the treasury
legally and not so legally.

tax benefits to the rich,
gifts as bribes by the lobbyists,
not bid contracts to family and friends,
favors in return worth millions.

red states form the right.
what forms the red states?
the Bible blabbers and the clergy.

you can't win against God,
said Kerry losing the election.
though on the left he was so right.

as the Bible blabbers and the clergy
will remain right on the right. next
president will likely be for the right.

ms. priggish piggy

how strange but not surprising,
whenever some ass h... emerges here,
ms priggish piggy rushes to him
to be in cahoot with him.

there've been many instances.
the recent one is that of
Sir Ernie burro muse
to be in cahoot with whom
she had no excuse.

is he not making an ass of her?
not once, not twice but
many times, times and again.
she never stops to be priggish.

now she's admonishing others to stop
posting their thoughts, views and poems.
for her others hog the blog and she,
the queen piggy, has no space left to blog.

you shameless fool, you'll never change
from your shameless abhorrent ways,
telling others what to do or not to do
and you, making about nothing much ado.

the snooty

sometime the snooty
snotting on their
slimy snot apples
must be snubbed
and left alone
digging deep
into their sub-
consciousness
to find out
who they are
what they are
what they want.

Souls

"I used to think of my soul as something tangible too. I used to think the tangible soul resided in the lotus of the heart chakra(as per Upanishads). I used to think the soul was 4 inches above the sahasrara chakra, above the top of the head (as per some new age spiritualists)" ~geetajayaram

first a soul
and then a tangible soul
residing in a circle,
and the circle
in the heart residing!

what form is the soul?
soft as silk?
what color? white or pink?
or does it change colors
like a chameleon?

how big? how small?
what smell? what taste?
how heavy? how light?
stationary or in flight?

now new findings of
new age gurus (like our guru!):
the souls live
not in circles in our hearts
but 4 inches above our heads!

how interesting! how fascinating!
how revealing is this finding!
surely it's worth a Nobel Prize -
our souls over her heads floating!

Things Intangible

what makes you say
faith and God
are things
important in life?

Your beliefs. Right

love boosts your ego
goodwill makes you feel wanted
instinct makes you survive

God and faith? linchpins of the weakest,
give you nothing but false hope.
is false hope important?

***
and your painting:
a naked, bearded young woman
in the clutches of a tentacle
of an octopus in the sea,
is struggling to be free.
what beauty do you see?

***
and your other painting:
a woman's torso, shackled
hanging upside down,
arms where legs should be,
hands where feet should be,
what beauty did you see?

***
would you like to tell us
what in your paintings you see?

***
is the answer you give
to the question you ask
of things intangible,
intelligible?

om, om, ram, ram

"Why is there a need to have this image explained, interpreted, analyzed or brought to some sort of "word" expression?" ~Cinda

***
om, om, ram, ram

yes, what's the need
to say anything about anything,
be it tangible, intangible or intelligible?

just see it what you can do with it.
feel it, touch it, smell it,
bite it, hear it then leave it,

think about it but say nothing,
absolutely nothing about it.
be a part of oneness

in this cosmic consciousness
and like a little birdie
singing chirpie, chirpie

sitting in shade on a branch
of a plum tree after its bellyful feed
from the feeder hanging in the backyard,
sing your song: om, om, ram, ram!

She’s another precise woman

She’s another precise woman
She knows what’s exactly exact
And what’s absolutely not.

Priggish you know
What I mean.

When it comes to love,
Not that she needs love,
She demands love.

Exactly at 11 pm Saturday night.
Exactly 15 mins of foreplay.
Exactly 30 mins of in and out.
Exactly 15 mins of after play

And at each step
Everything has to be
Exactly step by step
In her precise ways:

How to hold her in arms,
How to gives kisses to her,
How to make love to her.

How to shriek, at orgasm:
Aaee aaee or no aaee aaee!
Oh my God or oh no my God!
Or I'm coming, now, now or dead silence
Or O God, O Allah, O Shit, O Ram!

To all this and to all after play
She’s precise, very precise.
One could love her sometimes
But to love her in her precise ways!
No, no. no God, no Allah, no shit, no Ram!

And she knows precisely
Very precisely
If someone has had love
or no love in his life.

She is the precise woman
She is the exact woman
Priggish, you know
What I mean.

she's an impossible woman

you are beautiful.

and you thought I was ugly.

you are intelligent.

but you think I am dumb?

you are wise.

and you thought I was an idiot. right?

let's go for a ride. let's go for some ice cream.

you go for walk. you go for an ice cream.

let's go for a movies then.

you go for a movie.

so what would you like to do?

don't ask me. you think you know everything. you think you are God.

she's an impossible woman

he's an idiot at best and a blog hijacker at worst

he's earnest in
proper English,
in proper prose

he reads poems of
modern poets that run
paralell (sic) to his art

he can't write
a limerick
a verse
or a piece of prose

he love poems like
roses are red
violets are blue
and his love is true

he licks a boot or two
of someone he like too
much. you know who

he's a critic from the start
he doesn't like poetry
or any one dimensional art

when enough is enough for him
he comes here to fart
and in revelry he sings:

roses are red
violets are blue
I love you
my love is true

and he feels love
goody-goody love
shared by some piggy
blessed by heaven above

PS:
and of course
he likes to hijack blogs
to make someone a thing of the past
then he apologizes for forgiveness
his stupidity, his foolishness

In Praise of Jews

Not being a racist
But only talking of races,
Are Jews not
The super race in the world?

Most intelligent
Most influential
Most daring
Most innovative
Most advanced
Most smart
Most wealthy

They love each other
They help each other
They respect each other
They are the fittest
Among all races
I see in awe their pride

In a span of mere 50 years
they’ve built their shining
Nation to the most advanced
Technological level
While their foes have gone
Back to the old barbaric level

In this humble poem of mine
I salute them
I praise them
I respect them
I love them

To Bible Blabbers

Poor Jesus
Poor Mary Magdalene
Poor Bible blabbers.

“Don’t cast stones at Mary”
Says Jesus, “haven’t you too sinned?”
All stop casting stones at Mary.

They could have stoned Mary,
If they hadn't sinned.

So if someone comes to kill you,
And you have sinned
Listen to Jesus of Bethlehem:

Don’t raise your arms,
Don’t kill him,
But be killed in grace.

To the imitator of Charles Bukowski

don’t imitate Charles Bukowski,
lest you be called
a fool.

the most imitated
poet in the world,
makes all imitators
look like fools.

“the ego creates that strange mirage, love.”
love feeds ego. ego, love.
love does not rip ego,
nor ego rips love.

Fernando Pessoa says the same:
we love no one, we love ourselves.
loving others is not love -
just feeling good ourselves,
just feeding our egos.

She’s another precise woman

She’s another precise woman
She knows what’s exactly exact
And what’s absolutely not.

Priggish you know
What I mean.

When it comes to love,
Not that she needs love,
She demands love.

Exactly at 11 pm Saturday night.
Exactly 15 mins of foreplay.
Exactly 30 mins of in and out.
Exactly 15 mins of after play

And at each step
Everything has to be
Exactly step by step
In her precise ways:

How to hold her in arms,
How to gives kisses to her,
How to make love to her.

How to shriek, at orgasm:
Aaee aaee or no aaee aaee!
Oh my God or oh no my God!
Or I'm coming, now, now or dead silence
Or O God, O Allah, O Shit, O Ram!

To all this and to all after play
She’s precise, very precise.
One could love her sometimes
But to love her in her precise ways!
No, no. no God, no Allah, no shit, no Ram!

And she knows precisely
Very precisely
If someone has had love
or no love in his life.

She is the precise woman
She is the exact woman
Priggish, you know
What I mean.

Following Dollars

they know where they're
letting themselves into.

where greens show their sheen
where gold glows in gold
where things sell like sex
like lust of sutras - Kamasutra
like secrets of world - Kabala
like laughter in characters - cartoons
like leaving suffering - spirituality
like love and peace - morality
like burying sorrows indeed - liquor bars.

they follow dollars
in the garb of God
love and peace.
wherever they are.

Nothing wrong to follow dollars,
but in the garb of God, love and peace?

seven spiritual paths to a happy marriage

1

if he’s angry at you,
if he’s angry at kids,
and you’re gentle with him,
you’re falling into a trap.

he’ll become
more angry at you.
more angry at kids.
more angry with the world.

tell him: “ go to hell, buster.
I’m looking into this mirror relationship.
I’ll be no more gentle with you, you mama’s boy.
I’ll will keep the kids, and kick you in the ass
and send you packing to your mama’s house.
be a man. behave. or else…”

he’ll come to senses.
he’ll give up his anger.
he’ll love the kids.
he’ll love you.

he’ll pose beside you smiling
his smiles running from east to west,
telling the world how lucky he is
to have found you, to love you.

path number one was thought
by the spiritual guru
like all others of his paths –
never tested, only thought,
just imagined to write a book
to make some easy money.

if this path doesn’t work
don’t tell it no one, por favor.
just return the book to your guru
the return of money is guaranteed.

(for it always works with dimwits
and there're many dimwits in the world)

Gurus' Followers

while the guru is
teaching love, lust
goodwill and peace
and with no knowledge

of liberal arts,
beating his drums,
why everyone
is turning into an atheist

his lady followers are
cussing, complaining
of their gender inequality
and their pent up grief

they come here to share
their sorrows, their miseries
their wisdom, their blind beliefs
their foolishness, their disbeliefs

some old lady: men are pigs
some old lady-man: women are bitches
some piggy: listen to me. I am priggish
some flirting one: I light the candle. look into my eyes

some duped one: in gurus books I'm enlightened
some medic woman: god bless you. I send you to heaven
some confused one: four forces sustain me
some hurt one: I am wise. you call me stupid?

some devotee: thank you, thank you, dear auntie
some writer: I copy. I do not plagiarize
some friend of writer: dare you say this? we’ll sue you
some old daughter: my mom loves my dad. my dad loves my mom

and there are others
some talk of this
some talk of that
but most talk of shit

I wonder what guru feels
reading day after day this shit
perhaps his powerful teachings will
advance surely but slowly bit by bit

Who owns christianity?

who owns christianity?
dumb question
simple answer
people, stupid.

who owns love?
who owns hatred?
who owns peace?
who owns war?

and who, tell me who
who owns God?
people, stupid.

Indian female

only an Indian would want,
for whatever reasons,
an Indian woman.

to tease her to go to jail.
to befriend her to get her chappals
and her fathers or brother's thapars
for fouling their family's name.
to marry her and be bonded
raising her up for ever and ever.

no, never. not even in the name of Allah,
I'll tease her, befriend her, marry her
or do anything with her; never, never.

so no jail, no bond, no bail.
no money backers, no smackers.
no rasgullas, no papdum, no crackers.
wonderful white women, no hackers!

lord Krishna was lucky
to handle a hundred milk maids.
my luck ran out when I stood up
from my seat in a crowded bus in India
and offered it to a standing pretty female.

no thank you, thank you, I appreciate.
but she looked at me with a piercing gaze
as if I had torn up her secret membrane,
and blurted in anger at me: "what d'ya mean?
you'll get me by offering your seat to me?"