And
there is no pain in suffering
should you know you can teach in song

And
there is no sin in bluffing
should you know you can right your wong

And there was a gaunt man at the window
his palms were on his knees

And
his eyes were almost tears
his mouth a halibut
his ears were almost gills

And there was a lady on the still
hand on cheek and still
Shining bright
seemed topaz dyed
Couldnt hear her
her eyes were asking for a favour

Whiskey breath is old now
and years are marked by candles blown
but there is still
a girl on the sill
Baffled man has paused till
she speaks

And its clear to both of them from time to time
some heads must meet only under the sky

And sometimes generations masturbate themselves to sleep
and generous time will have huffed and puffed
unlearning its patience

Unlearn yours.

Malbenis.. It's a shame,isn't it?
Seems fine to me.

And
he was a fine man in his youth
Odd faced but solid as rocks
And
all his women were fine
specimens of a
common affliction
often the affliction was him

As he grew older though
the woman on the sill never
changed
Malbenis raved in middle age
and loved the people he scared
A common affliction.

She never looked at him different
he bathed forever
in naked splendour
in the pools of her ample eyes
And she smiled on the sill as he banged doors, kicked cats,
drank spluttered and wandered back exhausted.

It took him eighty yeas to
burn through eighty lifetimes

Morning glory on the sill smiled still the same

Learnt it, they'd rather have you dead.

You could love them, you could give them all
You could swing it so they never saw you fall
You could mask yourself with the merriest tune
You could smile your prettiest smile with all the tenderness inside..

But all the lovers that you sought
You're just a soul that they bought
You will never have a home
just an ever-empty room with a hint of sweet perfume
that you caught maybe ten years ago..

So I admit it, I do not know how
to live in a dead head
and an ever empty bed where I got lost forever when you left my hand.

O princess of the plains
Why can't you keep me now?
Every sound is too loud and the limbs don't move anyhow..
A man is at your door and you dream of seven more.

Admit it, you'd rather have him dead .

He came through valleys and brooks

Twenty hours for a glimpse of you

He slept on a vomit stain

A trash pile by his brain

But his fate is stranger still, you were just one danger,

who knows what lies in store?

Lock the lover up, for his own good, for ever more. 

Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.

Malana

Merry boys and dogs administer cold justice to cold mountains with the patter of their feet.
Ancient peoples cluster on overhangings to remark at whiteman's ascent
for green and gold; them both.

Whiteman clings for sweet sensation in empty, empty samsara
and boys and dogs clatter home.

Fool's gold was foretold to be the next deity by them past .
They strayed for it, it was their original sin and lightening;
and boys and dogs slept nights, empty as sweet samsara.


Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.

GRS (When found before the flood)

Whence have you come from, soft children of mine own mind?
Take refuge in my darkness; boughs of roses you will find
atop a breeze, for only what flies can hold up my sentiments.
I stand undressed before glories of natures before me
but thick window-glasses separate me,

Mother, take me. Nurses are not women.
Teats do not satisfy, divinity remains sheathed,
Gory armies till land in my hand as i am fidgeting.

But you! Silly children! Stay and sup to my cooking.
I delight cretins, i was raised by jugglers.
Curious broths escape my kitchen
Rows of running shoes in line make wine.

And i drink! How i drink!
I drink to paintings yet to be painted
I drink to myshkins yet to be tainted
by the blood under the wheel.

The wheel churns mercilessly outside my window to the underworlds,
but the glass repels my bombs.

A flood is imminent; those above shall hear mere whispers
and I will float.

The scum will breathe
and climb down the trees.



Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.

Clockwork Man

Dawn to dusk; lust for food and gravity
Clockwork man chugs on happily.
To be like you! With a mere smattering of thought.

You show me the time time and again
I waved you away too long.
Straight lines and simple rhymes
to illuminate your shadow.

I was pulsing like bad quartz
You were smiling behind the counter
as I vomited seeing your daughter play
with miles of wolves around her.

Wise men's tyrant-frenzy of impotence
and fretted conceit have killed me twice.

Sharpen knives.



Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.

God's Retarded Son (Hereafter GRS)

Weary of the thin men
Weary of the tin men
and people's sorcerors.

Bounties of grey
and dirty underwear
Is it all for us?

Brass coins jangle among my loins
while the long-haired one drinks wines
that were once water.

Why, Father?

When i was three,
I sat atop this tree
and watched you teach him the grind.
But it's fine.

Why, Mother?

It is dank and gloomy in my basement-cellar
a row of mindcells lead the way
to the awaited jailer.

I shall find him, I timed him: Arrival at ten past.
At last, sweet torment!
You have borne the moment.

But is it time?


Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.

Rasa continues

In the midst of my proclamation i paused in between
and eyed the vile woman as she fled the scene.

There was as yet no sense in the stars and the skies
I was betrayed and mocked in chide
by the man who draws the straight lines in time.

Flee! Thankless servants of time and place
Your false employers have forsaken you,
cease to adorn this space.
We'll make something new.

I dipped a toe in the pond ("Sea!")
and careened on, my eye straying to the horizon.
I was late in coming to you.

For many hells went past and the sun grew stronger
and in spite of myself i saw my arms get longer
in order to wade to truth.

I dipped my toe in again, the animal mooed atop the hill!
Why swim when there is time to kill?
 


Its a sick world, sick,sick,sick.