Friday, March 18, 2011

another war

Another War?

The young prime minister is declaring war he looks righteous and
proud, his historical moment. ...We fight for the Libyan people,
but something disturbs me, the braying for one man’s blood.
The excitement of going to war, this lust for action sits deep in our
mind, jingoism brings its own political reward.
A just war? The man Kaddafi is an odious bully and oil supply must
be secured. But is it not also a selective war? People are being killed
in Yemen, an oil poor country; why not declaring war against their
repellent autocrat?
For now the Israeli are busy building settlements on occupied land,
they know a democratic Middle East will shift the balance of power,
a united Arab world will demand it. So let the war commence, but
I regret our leaders look of, almost, sexual excitement when issuing
orders kill the enemy.

Another War. - "Cracks in the Mirror" Poetry & photography

Another War. - "Cracks in the Mirror" Poetry & photography

credit card - "Cracks in the Mirror" Poetry & photography

credit card - "Cracks in the Mirror" Poetry & photography

continuation - "Cracks in the Mirror" Poetry & photography

continuation - "Cracks in the Mirror" Poetry & photography

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

लव अत फर्स्ट sight

Love at first sight

I joined the merchant navy at fifteen and women I met in faraway ports
lived in shady bars and pink bedrooms, had raspy voices eyes as cold
diamonds and laughter that sounded like broken glass; they only had
time for crude words. By the docks in Livorno, Italy, a girl in a cake shop
smiled to me, said I was a pretty boy. Pink I bought more cakes than
I could eat. I had met a girl who liked to hold my hand, laugh and talk.
We went to the movie, saw “La Strada” but the nearness of this girl was
so overwhelming I could not focus on the movie. Happy day, yes I ate
a lot of cakes. My ship had to sail for other ports, I was in love promised
to come back soon. Sadly my ship never returned. My boyish love
affair was forgotten in the carrousel of ventures and bitter love affairs.
I don’t know why I remember her, guess she’s grandmother now.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

लव letter

Love Letter Not Posted.

I got a sweet email, yes romantic as well,
something about holding hands
and things that tend to follow a passionate kiss.
She had read my poems and thought I was
a darling! I thought of sending her a love poem
but desisted as my poems tend to be cynical;
beside there is a question of grooming.
Dear heart, thank you for the email, I shall not
answer you, but quietly dream of what could
have been if I had been seventeen, and
not a grumpy old man who wears a winter coat
for comfort even in June.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Sunday, February 6, 2011


A Window into the Past.

Visiting time over, mother was ill in hospital she had been so tired lately.
Nearby a small stream, an empty box of matches was my raft, rudderless
it rushed down rapids and disappeared under ground, under the town
and I wondered if it reached the docks. I had bought mother a chocolate,
in the same shop that sold oranges and but they were too expensive,
but ate most of the chocolate while listening to her instructions, to peel
spuds, buy milk and yesterday loaf (half the price), open a tin of sardines.
But first I had to go down to the docks see what ships were in and also try
to find my raft. When I came home mother stood smoking in the kitchen,
she had peeled the spuds. They had let her out only so she could pack her
suitcase; she had to go up the mountains, where the air was pure, and be
cured… and I knew why I hadn’t found my raft.