Can Nine 9 Year Old Girl Take 9 Inch Cock Sexless Solitude And Other Poems

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Sexless Solitude And Other Poems

1

DON’T CONDEMN ME

It’s still linked but I don’t understand

or don’t want to understand because

I am too much with me and worry

about her dying libido and my

own shrinking sex amidst salsa chill

Bihu fever, Vishu rituals

ringing emptiness day and night shake

the age-wrapped youth for single-edge play

in forked flame carve image of heaven

to challenge the jealous God undo

sins of races flowing in my blood:

I love Him through the bodies He made

but they don’t understand redemption

in churning and parting of the sea

they don’t rejoice the flames of henna

on her palms nor let the lily bloom

in the valleys use the clefts and cliffs

to deface beauty and spike voices

don’t condemn me if I am not white

the water still flows in my river

2

BARBED WIRE FENCE

My window opens

to the back of a garage

where guards make water

at times show their dick

to the maid in my kitchen:

they care for none

how can I complain

if boys and girls make love

in the bush between

the children’s park and

my backyard? They are distanced

by a barbed wire fence

3

OVERLOAD

Goes awry

the electrical circuit

in the brain cells

in my drugged sleep

I utter expletives

unmindful of

the victims:

I can’t help my sensory

overload

4. HAZY SUN

Sweating desire

inhales new sketches

with mind’s pen

on the pillow

image by image

night passes

not knowing

how a hazy sun

rose from the sea

5. ALOOF

Unlinked to the trees

he doesn’t know his family

stands aloof, questions

ancestors don’t change

the mood of the weather:

the leaf reads his name

6. PEACE MISSION

He is amazed to see

so much corruption

in the system

of world peace:

his colleagues envious

of his foreign jaunt

with the UN

and earnings

in dollars, rise so soon

in career and

have the best of

life and style

while I worry about

freedom in Congo

untamed humans

safe sojourn

7. WINTER

The day is shorter

the night longer

and yet sleepless

suffer the dark

in the air in bed

I listen to roar

or whisper of

wingless worries

no high poetry

but nightmares trimming

the sun and the sky

that could never be

8. ABUSING IN SLEEP

The stinking waking hours

turn into solid abuses

in the abyss of head

after midnight the drugged

holes of the mind tear off

the veils I never wore

they are naturally disturbed:

turn sleepless to discover

the stupid sophistry

of a poet-professor

unable to redress

his inner balances

and yet posing stronger smashing

the academia that care

a tuppence for native

geniuses that unmake

the imported mates who

dovetail media to flourish

9. AGAIN AND AGAIN

Again and again

I find myself on bed

my sacred space

but can’t relax

meditate or dream

now fail to have

what I always had

her naked company

with tingling laugh

slurred with passion

can’t celebrate yoni

deep into silence

renewed released returning

without finality

again and again

10. HUMAN RIGHTS

Human Rights activists

discuss eradication

of manual scavenging

and construction of

wet latrines in villages

in the conference room

complain about poor flushing

in NHRC toilet

and routinely censure

the junior staff

before seeking provisions

for rehabilitating

liberated scavengers

11. EYELESS JAGANNATH

I can’t understand

their mystic heaven or thrills

housed in awareness

time’s intricacies

or sources of plastic mist

through mythical depths

the wings of my thought

are too short to climb God’s height

or blue deeps of peace

I stand on the edge

of earth’s physicality

waiting on the brink

with shadowy lines

and curves to image march ofbr>

eyeless Jagannath

if nobody sees

the collapse of procession

and the dark precinct

don’t blame the poets:

there is too much emptiness

and gloom to ignore

12. AWARENESS MATTERS

Each death has a passage

to surprise the dead

awareness matters

no solace the cow’s tail

in the river’s midst

heaven, far, too far

13. FROM THE WINDOW

Tall houses appear

to grow like trees from the plane

slowly rising high

people turn tiny

with cars water birds and beasts

in the summer flame

nervously worried

watch the moving mass of clouds

from the window

eternal patterns

nature’s wonder on the edge

a streak of orange

thousands of lights

twinkle in colours like stars–

seat belt fastened

14. ON HER BIRTHDAY

I want the best of life for you

but you too much understand

what I can’t do

you must be patient and do

what you can–

I can’t create the fruits

I may create space

for you to stand but I can’t

become the legs

you must run the race

on your own and be

what you dream

the redness of mars

and the whiteness of moon

merge in you

you have worlds to conquer

and miles to go, my dear

you must rear the goose

and have the gold each day

15. THE DEAD TOO ARE RESTLESS

Tracing the corridors

in my mind for the seeds

of misplaced dreams now turned

nightmares drugs can’t control

no use mocking meditation

Gods yoga or psychic

mumbo-jumbo to escape

the beasts within nurturned for years

now I fear each move

a suicide bid but dying

is more difficult when

the dead too are restless

16. IGNITE MINDS WITH FLICKERS

I read them but my prayers

couldn’t be news of tomorrow

nor could the images mean

surfing channels with coffee

at the day’s end can’t reflect

something positive to take

pride in myself justifying

the age or hours just prolong

the animal existence

prove worse than animals with

smallness of mid and concerns

forgotten like news flashed in

media without vision

glorify the shackles of

darkness bluff God and humans

yet ignite minds with flickers

17. SHRINKING INTO ITSELF

How to weigh the breath

the flame the soul or the ash

the body conceals:

I can’t turn my inside out

nor know life’s weight when lifeless

between earth and sky

it disappears one with

elements quiet

there’s no way to know the thread

or its mechanism that binds

secures life now or

beyond what if I can’t feel

the weight of the colour

on the leaves on tree maybe

shrinking into itself

18. I AM PROMISED A NEW SUN

Walking down a long corridor

a beam of light beckons

from a distant window

up ahead a figure

gently motions me to move

further along the passage

a large oak door appears

etched in the stone on the wall

beside the door odd-looking

symbols from unknown alphabets

I try to push the gold latch

on the handle but it doesn’t

open a golden key

in the hand shines brightly

in the dark I step out

from inside the window opens

to the sea an enormous yacht

slowly moving towards

a mansion kings occupied

with rare riches and power:

I am promised a new sun

19. I WANT TO SLEEP

Living among the sick

and the sickening what else

shall I carry except

germs and allergens that keep

me tossing and turning

from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m.

perhaps from the day one

I’ve never slept well and now

I want to sleep without pills

drinks ‘zines or sex

thoughtless prayerless in peace

20. MET BULLETIN

Snows all around

for the last seven days

no supplies no planes

the runway all white

surviving on their little store

for the winter in fibre huts

bored they drink more often

and wait for the met bulletin

21. BROKEN WISHES

Thrice a day standing

at the kitchen sink she

washes utensils

to save tears and memories

of broken wishes smelling

from the pillow on cracked

linoleum in cubbyhole

22. REMIX

Feeling safe with shadows

live the flickering images

channels deceptively sell:

remote control in the hand

change tunes for songs my mother

hummed and they choreograph

with girls and guys who play sex

sans taste in cheeky zipouch

23. IS THIS ALL?

With prayer’s cocktail

live animal existence

and boast, is this all?

in self-same cocoon

fungus of illusions grow

toadstools of damned tract

24. JOURNEY

Journeying

with no sense of direction

no control over

destiny or destination

I can’t take pride in flickers

or flashes on their faces

in the train they come and go

with the same indifference

shadows of distant houses

hills and trees keep passing

25. PSALM

Where shall I find my rest?

at the doors of Sheol?

in dust? or in the light

of living? standing still

among the ungodly?

to break the bonds and cast

their cords that divide faith

with flattering tongue

turn a well into the sea

or preach hypocrisy

untouched by fire or air:

o God save me from sin

of calling them sinners

and bless the spirit in

time and me that I feel

your healing touch in thought

and bear without regret

the burdens of the world

loss of love, or even hope

to live like a lotus leaf

26. CONCLUSION

I wish I could clean the cobwebs of legends

that veil the vision, moralizing future

with doubtful glories urge us to move backward:

echoes of the dead reverberate; no use

setting the alarm to go off 2010

stashed away in empty slogans life’s seconds

periodically exhumed is a travesty

of obsolescence of the sun ever clouded

Gateway of India or Delhi’s Circus

suffer midnight lust with rites of consummation

like the conclusion of a tragic poem

27. SEXLESS SOLITUDE

I don’t seek the stone bowl

Buddha used while here:

she dwells on moon beams

I can see her smiling

with wind-chiselled breast

in sexless solitude

her light is not priced

but gifted to enlighten

the silver-linings

28. I HANG NOBODY’S PICTURE

It is merely the colour they replace

not the content and make distance

with rickety slogans engulf the waves

that trap tears before dreams revolt

what use lamenting the shipwreck in a void

or braving the moral remains

or the day’s frail fabric in a dead world:

no good as a gauze for the sick

or shroud for the dying: their flags deceive all

in the name of independence

they mock the millions with substanceless noise

while funeral dreams haunt my sleep

I hang nobody’s picture in my chamber

but see their shadows masturbate

in damp corners or seduce in poppy light

the crooks and righteous alike

29. PORTRAITS WE FEAR TO SEE

Culture is not repression

but sublimation through expression

why do they police

art for lesbianism

homosexuality

naked sex or blasphemy?

politics of vandalism

throttles tradition

aggravates baser instincts

do they know their metaphors

defy the divine that creates?

destroys the soul, the vision?

the future is not their high wind

but the artists’ honesty to peep

into the potential hell and

come back with portraits we fear to see

30. VALLEY OF SELF

I don’t know which psalms to sing

or which church to go to feel

the flame within for a while

sit or lie still with

faith weather the restlessness

brewing breath by breath

I don’t know the god

or goddess or the mantra

to chant when fear overtakes

my being and makes me suffer

plateaus of nightmares

paralyzing spirit to live

and by the promised fulfillment

I see no saviour come

to rescue me when mired

I seek freedom from myself:

my ordeals are mine alone

in the valley of self

I must learn to clear the clouds

soaring high or low

Copyright: R.K.SINGH

Indian School of Mines

Dhanbad 826004 India

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