21 Tunes Animals Reflect How We Feel About Life Sexless Solitude And Other Poems

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Sexless Solitude And Other Poems



It is still connected but I don’t understand

or does not want to understand because

I am very much with myself and worry

about you die libido and me

physical contraction sex in the midst of Salsa chills

Bihu fever, Vishu rituals

n the empty ring of day and night

the zero-page-page for single-edge games

in the fork of the hand of fire carries the image of heaven

to face this jealous God

the sins of the race run in my blood:

I love You through the bodies You created

but they do not understand redemption

in the churning and splitting of the sea

they do not burn henna

on his palm, so that the lily does not grow

in the valley use clefts and cliffs

to deface beauty and spike things

don’t blame me if I’m not white

and water flows in my river



My window is open

to the back of a garage

where the guard makes water

sometimes put them Dick

to the maid in my kitchen:

they don’t care

how can i complain

if a boy and a girl make love

in the forest between

children park and

my backyard? They are at a distance

by wire fence



Going bad

electrical circuit

in brain cells

in my poisonous sleep

I say expletives

unmindful of


I can’t help myself



Hot love

inhales new sketches

along with the impact

on the pillow

picture by picture

night passed

he doesn’t know

how hazy the sun is

rise from the sea


Not attached to trees

he does not know his family

stay aloof, question

fathers do not change

weather conditions:

you read his name


He was surprised to see her

very damaged

in the system

of world peace:

his colleagues envy

tired of the strange jaunt

with UN

and earnings

in dollars, rise so soon

at work and

are the best of

life and body

when I was worried about

independence in the Congo

an indifferent person

resident safety

7. Winter

The day is too short

the night is long

and yet sleep

suffer darkness

in the air in bed

I heard a noise

or whisper of

wingless trouble

and there is no poetry

but nightmares trimming

sleep and sleep

that can never be


The stinking waking hours

turn into a solid product

in the abyss of the head

after midnight the drugged

the hole that the heart tears

helmets I don’t wear

they are physically disturbed:

turn asleep to discover

the stupid sophistry

of a poet-professor

cannot be corrected

your inner balance

and yet appeared in the sea smashing

university maintained

a tuppence for the native

genius that unmake

secondary imports that

dovetail media to flourish


Again and again

I found myself on the bed

my holy place

but he could not rest

dreams or dreams

thus failed to have

what I always had

your naked company

with tingling laughter

slurred with passion

can’t celebrate today

deep into silence

again released

without ending

again and again


Human rights activists

Discuss destruction

of manual scavenging

and construction of

cold rooms in villages

in the conference room

complain about poor flushing

in the NHRC toilet

and constant criticism

junior staff

before the offer is made

for rehabilitating

independent scavengers


I can’t understand

their mystic heaven or thrills

home is knowledge

the intricacies of time

or sources of plastic mist

through the mythical depths

the wings of my thoughts

too short to climb the mountain of God

or the deep blue of peace

I stood on the edge

of the world of physicality

waiting on the brink

with shadowy lines

and curved to image March ofbr>

the face of Jagannath

if no one sees it

the collapse of the procession

and the black community

don’t blame the poets:

there is too much emptiness

and darkness to ignore


Each death is a life

to surprise the dead

knowledge of words

no solace the cow’s tail

in the middle of the river

heaven, far, far away


Tall buildings appear

to grow like trees from a plane

slowly rising

people change to small

with water bird and animal component

in the heat of the fire

anxiety anxiety

see the mass of clouds

from the window

eternal principles

nature’s wonder on the edge

a stream of oranges

thousands of lights

twinkle in colors like stars–

seat belt fastened


I wish the best of life for you

but you understand a lot

what i can’t do

you must be patient and do it

what you can

I can not create fruits

I can create space

for you to wait but I can’t

hold the feet

you must run the race

on your own and come

what you dream

the red of Mars

and white of the moon

mix in it

you have chances to win

and miles to go, my love

you must bear the goose

and have gold every day

15. The dead man did not rest

Trace the corridors

in my mind for seeds

where the dream now changes

nightmare drugs can not control

no use of mental insults

God of yoga or seer

mumbo-jumbo to escape

the animals between kept for years

now I fear each move

attempted suicide but died

is more difficult when

even the dead do not rest


I read them but my prayer

it cannot be tomorrow’s news

or pictures can mean

channels with coffee

at the end of the day it cannot be shown

something good to take

My pride is justified

age or hours late

animal life

proved worse than animals too

smallness of center and concerns

forget how the news flashed

media without vision

logo the bound of

darkness bluff God and humanity

yet ignite the soul with flickers


How to close the breath

soul fire or ashes


I can’t change my mind

or know the weight of life when you are alive

between earth and heaven

it disappears one too

quiet element

there is no way to know the sea

or its associated process

now secure the world or

beyond what if I can not feel

the weight of the color

on the leaves on the tree maybe

shrink into the body


Walking down the long driveway

a beam of light beckons

from a far window

up before a figure

gently urged me to move

more along the way

A large oak door appeared

etched in stone on the wall

next to the odd-looking door

symbol from unknown alphabet

I tried to push the golden latch

on hand but not

open a golden key

in the hand shining light

I came out in the dark

from the open window

to the sea a very large yacht

slowly moving towards

the palace occupied by kings

with rare and powerful words:

I promise a new sun


Living among the sick

and sickenings what else

I will live except

germs and allergens that kill

my tossing and turning

from 10 pm to 4 am

maybe from day one

I don’t sleep well and now

I want to sleep without drugs

drinks ‘zines or sex

countless prayers in peace


It’s snowing all around

for the last seven days

no provision no flight

the runway is all white

surviving on their small shop

for the winter in sea huts

Bored they took a few times

and wait for the bulletin board


Three times a day

in the kitchen sink

wash the utensils

to leave tears and memories

the smell is very bad

from the pillow on the flow

linoleum in the cubbyhole


Feel safe with the shades

produce bright pictures

Channels selling fraud:

remote control in hand

this tunes for my mother’s songs

they hummed and choreographed

with girls and boys having sex

without tasting the cheeky zipouch


With a prayer cocktail

live animal world

and boast, this is all?

in the same way

the fungus of illusions grows

toadstools of the damned tract



with no sense of direction

no control over

Fate or destiny

I can’t be proud of the flickers

or blink on their face

they are going by train

with the same carelessness

a shadow far from home

mountains and trees pass by


Where do I find my vacation?

at the gate of hell?

in the dust? or in fire

of crying? stop eating

among the unbelievers?

to break ties and casts

their thread that divides the faith

with a flattering tongue

turn the well into the sea

or hypocritical preaching

fire or wind does not touch:

God saved me from sin

called them sinners

and bless me inside

time and spirit that I feel

your healing hand is thought

and bear it without regret

burden of life

Loss of love, or even hope

to live like a lotus leaf


I wish I could clean the cobwebs of legend

who veils the generation, moralizing the future

with the glories of doubt urge us to go back:

echoes of the dead reverberate; no use

set the alarm to go off 2010

stashed away in the empty slogan of the world’s second

periodically exhumed in a travesty

of the obsolescence of the sun forever clouds

Gateway of India or Delhi’s Circus

suffer midnight lust with rites of consummation

like the ending of a tragic poem


I’m not looking for a stone plate

Buddha used it while he was here:

he lives on the moon beams

I can see you smile

with wind-chiselled breast

in sexual solitude

your light is priceless

but give to enlighten



It is the only color they replace

not content and distanced

with rickety slogans engulf the waves

that trap tears before dreams rebel

why do you mourn for a ship that has sunk in vain

or braving moral death

or the weak garment of the day in the dead world:

not as good as gauze for patients

or a covering for the dead: their banners deceive them all

in the name of freedom

they make fun of the noise that has nothing to do with it

while the funeral dream haunts my sky

I don’t hang anyone’s picture in my room

but see their shadows play

in a damp corner or lit in a light poppy

the treacherous and the righteous alike

29. The image we are afraid to SEE

Culture is not repression

but sublimation through expression

why they police

image for Male


naked sex or negative?

the politics of violence

Traditional throttles

aggravates baser instincts

do they know their example

against God who created?

destroy me, the vision?

the future is not their high wind

but the truth of the players to peep

into potential hell and

back with the pictures we were afraid to see


I don’t know which psalm to write

or which church to go to feel

fire within for a while

sit or lie down with

holiday weather belief

Brewing breath by breath

I do not know God

or deity or mantra

to sing when fear comes

my behavior will make me suffer

Plateaus of nightmares

paralyzing spirit to move

and about the fulfillment of the promise

I didn’t see a savior coming

to save me when I was beaten

I seek freedom from myself:

My troubles are mine alone

in the valley of the body

I must learn to clear the clouds

soaring high or low

Copyright: RKSINGH

Indian School of Mines

Dhanbad 826004 India

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