1

 Green grass in the belly of a dead cow

The sun hides behind a bashful horizon

2

And when the banana peel turned black, God was no longer able to fix anything.

3

man rested his head 

against the wooden sky 

and there is nothing 

higher than the sky

4

My hand has dried up and my stomach has rusted. I have become an empty iron can of cola that will cut your tongue in half. My home is now a cesspool of industrial history, because no one needs me either. (As well as world history and culture.) The doctors will try to help you, but sepsis. There is a commercial break on the surgical screen and then shit again. The freckles have disappeared. Someone will have to pay back the loan for all this.

5

Kill me with a clay name oh chitinous god

But others are dying again

Someone is watering the lilacs that grew instead of a cemetery

To Sum Up

Well, you might as well throw that out because there isn’t

going to be a biography and no one

is going to care what you thought of the Dance of Death.

It was

a good bit more distant and

less final before you knew the prose

would scurry right into not scurrying

along the wainscotting that decorates your life-

lessness,

a gentle book hitting you

right in the head like

the last one you didn’t read and no one else did either.

CHILD 

The things were too complex 

And when the spectacle 

Moved in front of my eyes

I looked at them

In utter amazement.

When I was a child

Every thing

Even simple things 

Looked amazing

And I looked at them in wonder, 

My eyes wide open.

I had no inclination then

To know what was what 

Simple amazement 

A sense of wonder 

And it kept me away

From my hunger 

And my need for my mother

Mind was stirred 

With strange passions

And eyes, with stranger visions.

Now when I am grown up

And going down the drain,

When I have known so much 

Written so much, debated so much 

When people call me a pseudo philosopher 

And listen to me with open mouths

And shutless winks

They know out of my wisdom

I shall tell them some secret of living. 

I find reduced to a child before the spectacle

That is moving in front of my eyes.

I can’t decipher why there is disparity 

Why there is poverty 

Why gods do not listen 

And why men stoop low

These questions have a ride

Morning and evening like 

The military unit of a tyrant,  

And scared, I turn a child, 

Incapable of standing up to these 

Stratagems of evil, hunger, and deception.

Mother’s love 

A young man dreamed of becoming very rich. He devoted his life only to work and earn money. But on this way, thinking that his mother could not help him, he ran away from home. His mother always looked forward to his return. Years passed. The young man became rich, became a famous businessman. But during this time, he never heard from his mother. One day he received a letter. 

“My son, I miss you so much. It would be nice if you could come and check on me.”

But the guy didn’t come because he had a lot of work. A few years later, he receives news of his mother’s death. The young man returned home and found his mother’s small chest. Inside the box was a letter addressed to him. 

“My child, I have tried my best to create a good life for you. If you are happy, I am happy. Just remember one thing: the greatest wealth in the world is mother’s love.” mother’s value.

IBRAT: Appreciating mother’s love, appreciating the greatest wealth in our life, is one of the highest human qualities. Taking care of parents is the duty of every child.

FREAKY BODIES

Mood of the moment

seductive in dullness

eternal eros:

changing constantly inside

now says she hates my scent

taunting the old pain

in the brothel of bed

kitchen or shower

she fears the freaky bodies

snaky arousal and peak

through sucking hisses

thuds and soft screams repeated

in sync dripping down

until next round of silence

with  back to each other

ABRUPT NOTES

Intentionally layered

internally fragmented

queer antics:

she builds up her own

sexual toolkit to prove

how coward man is

she sees a rapist

in each man detests

the male smell but trusts

one night stand

with deep thrust

long erections

and climax control

for blood to soak smoothly

she sits shrouded

in her see-through pink gown

on the terrace

inviting autumn winds

for longer stopover

just to accuse the artist

of invading her body

she curses a young bull

for obstructing her way

in the street shouts at hawkers

and, yet another

at eighty re-imagines

fading memories

with snaky radiance

to break a new dawn

my friend says

the dynamics change:

there’s a before

and an after

to feel life

I say yes, but I’m tired

of walking and writing

what I watch

I’m no tout to comfort

or restore the faith

of a dwindling flock in heat

culling is convenient

TANKA

Unquenched thirst

more and more indulgence:

momentary pleasure

she says it’s enough now

rein the horse and seek the missed

***

Half-drunk women

on one side of the road

pimps on the other

ready to seize  first-timers

to the tin box by street lamps

***

Standing on a cloud

look through an open doorway:

desires awakened

before I could step inside

the door closed, I missed my chance

***

At the swimming pool

he asks if he could borrow

her underwear just

to feel her from inside

with fidgeting currents

***

Unquenched thirst

more and more indulgence:

momentary pleasure

she says it’s enough now

rein the horse and seek the missed

***

God has become

a habit in helplessness:

faith a deception

when unable to enjoy

love, life and wonders of world

***

Shiva and Shakti

our freedom in union:

twin flame of love

rolling in grains of sand

transcending together

***

Future legacy

and dynamics of peace:

I seek solace in

Camus’s absurd, my silence

and indifferent universe

Ram Krishna Singh, also known as R.K. Singh,  has published poems, articles and book reviews in various magazines and journals over the years and taught English for Science and Technology, Indian Writing in English, and Criticism at IIT-ISM, Dhanbad for nearly four decades. His published poetry collections include Against the Waves: Selected Poems (2021),  白濁: SILENCE: A WHITE DISTRUST (English/Japanese, 2022),   Poems and Micropoems (2023), and Knocking Vistas And Other Poems (2024). More at https://pennyspoetry.fandom.com/wiki/R.K._Singh

I have no father! 

Even though I was a man, he smiled,

The most sincere person in the world.

Although I was stubborn, he thought of me,

You are my one and only father.

Sometimes I hurt you,

I put it down to manhood and youth.

Even then, the person who looked at my heart,

You are my one piece, my world, dad.

Sometimes we didn’t sleep because of the chaos.

You were tired, but we did not stay silent.

Anyway, a man who can’t stop loving

My father is a hero in my personal world.

You are my greatest happiness in the world,

I walk in your shadow, wealth is my throne.

You are the reason I click the steps chart,

My respect is endless, my country is my father!