Blissed off in India, as ever.

"Happy anniversary love", a body smeared across a broken road
Bow to the cow, holier than thou it is, while hunger is the heaviest load
Gods and demons clash against stray dogs and car horns, "don't drink the milk!"
"Don't touch the water, don't talk to the beggar, barter over the price of silk!"
I mean a saving of 20 rupees means everything to me, a wallet stuffed with a lifetime of local cash
The bargain hunting tourist, scowling and undefeated as he bargains a childs lunch to trash
"They walk and hold hands, how queer, it's all so strange here isn't it dear?"
Khaki shorts, white socks, two packet of crisps and a bottle of pop, "we're here for the culture that's clear"
"Don't give cash to beggars!", "I didn't, it was food"
"you could have asked us first and not been so rude"
"they'll all want some now, do you think that's really fair?"
"what? people wanting food? fair? wanting only a paltry share?"
"Get fucked, you horrible, shitty, bulbous headed, evil pig. The world would be better if rid of you"
"This man is rude, Jude, abusive and attracting filthy beggars with food, we'll go to Florida next year is what we'll do."
I saw the Taj Mahal, shining dead forts of red
My wonder wife and the graceful tune of her tread
Temples and peoples, good, bad rich and poor
Spices and dresses, conmen, dead men and much more
Yet my holidayed mind, is left staggering and confined
To the idiocy of tourists like me, who are so dumb and blind.

Darwinian Tale

They say there are many fish in the sea
But on tonight's menu, you are the one for me.
You see, I ain't no slimy squid
no clown fish
no big dumb tuna
And I'll forgo the expensive sole
cuz some cross-eyed fish
just ain't my style, you see.
And for your information,
I ain't no shrimp neither
just check out my size.
Even the boiled red lobster bores me.
I'm a barracuda
a shark
circling above you
wanting to come crashing down
breaking you open.
You pretend to be hard and tough
such a cool cold mollusk
iced and waiting
but I know what is inside.
You are so sweet and juicy
my little cute oyster
as I go down on you
and place you slowly in my mouth.
I am your imaginary lover
like Charles Darwin might have been
how we all evolved from the sea.
Your milky juices bring out--
you bring out the beast in me.
Oysters are a God-given oral treat.
And they make you horny
as horny as a man can be.
Your taste explodes in my mouth.
I bite, chew and swallow
My tongue now stiff
and goes back to lick your shell
still searching for your pearl
But wait . . .
I haven't even ordered yet!
Anticipation can be as erotic as the act.
But by any chance
you are to not available tonight
I'll go find another.

"Sold out?"
Then, I'll have the red snapper.

Cosmic journey

I happened to stumble upon
the moon reflecting in the dark of night
as we were both up quite late on such a lonely night
I suppose you could say we happened to meet--
the full moon and me
A chance encounter
One round white spot
a concentration of light
A moment to look down and stare and ask
"So people actually walked up there?"
Then, my gaze naturally turns upwards
to get a better sight
at the moon's glow --
at the wonder of it all.
I also spy a few bright stars
those few visible to the eye
But it's moon's fullness that fills my mind
I'm talking to the moon
but hearing only
the voice inside.
Time for a short cosmic journey before sunrise
after which such thoughts
are overtaken by daylight
when time is measured by hands of the clock
when we are too busy--
no time
to explore within.

Beggars and Cow Shit

"I hate my job", bleats the international banker
The cow shit collecting beggar thinks "wanker"
And my wife looks at me as though I'm mad
As I say the lazy fuckers should get a job.

Blues never leave

These blues keep swirling--
swirling around in my head
These are the same blues
I had yesterday
and the days before that.
And everybody says
"Joe, you should wear a smile."
Well, I try
I try to paint on a smile on my face
that is, once in a while
and to hide any tears and the tears deep--
deep inside.
So I'm just sittin' here imagining
what would be like
if the hand of cards
had been dealt--
dealt with a different deck.
You see these blues
Yeh, these blues never leave
have never left me, not since the day
not since the day she went away.
It wasn't and it really wasn't fair
the way Love slipped--
the way it slipped through my hands that way
I didn't say so,
and neither did she.
When she left, the blues wasted no time
and came rushing in
filling my heart
And since then, the blues keep rolling--
keep rolling-
like the waves
at the sea shore
And I should--
I should thank her for that.
It's been a scenic sight.
and how these blues became my friend.
how these blues
stayed and stayed
You see these blues
never left me
not since the day--
not since the day she went away.

Agra phobic

The crown palace dome
Hangs ominous over the poor
Pepsi signs flash cold

Anatomy of a rose

So selfish
I know
I should have left you alone
Adore you only from a distance.
However, careful of your thorns
I picked you
hold you gently in my hand
and closely examine your pink petals
So delicate
I wonder
who made you?
Who made such beautiful being anyway?
I am drawn closer to your beauty
to discover what is inside
As the sweetest smell
touches my senses -
surely there must be a perfume named after you.
Up close I see nothing else
but a flowering rose
In my mind
I trip and fall deep inside
landing on a stigma,
sliding down your style
the tube-like path
to your center
Unlike many other flower species
the rose flower possesses several ovaries
located within your rose hips
My presence
to impregnate thee

That's Amore

It must be
the Italian blood in me.
(Zanghi - the family name my father gave me)
Because when I see you
I begin to salivate.
You are so hot!
You hot tomato
Baby, I dig your saucy ways -
and the way you seem to melt
all gooey
lying there
waiting for my mouth.
And if I don't watch out
I'll burn my tongue.
Oh, how I want you--
and get myself a piece.
I pull you apart,
so I can take my the first bite.
you are tasty -
such oral pleasure.
nibbling at your toppings
I work my way up
to your soft crust.
And as Dean Martin used to sing it,
"When the moon hits your eye like
a big
pizza pie
That's amore."
Well to conclude,
all I can say to all of you is:
"Get you own piece."


You know the girl
ain't right for you
when all you do
is be polite
and apologize.
She has me on a rope
leading me down the wrong path
Don't chase Alice
into the hole
It's not the only Wonderland

I know I should leave that girl alone
you see, this girl spells trouble for me
Trouble with a capital T
So I'm trying
trying to shake this girl loose
get her out of my mind
think about something else.
Trouble is
I can't.

Life according to my Daddy

So which is your favorite doughnut?
Such a variety on the shelf
isn't there?
Various shades
from white
to chocolaty brown.
To be honest
I'm sort partial to old-fashioned
but I'll give others a try
And ya see
long, stiff crullers -
well, in this doughnut shop
those just ain't my style.

Ah, look at those sugar-glazed
truly soft and sweet
and right next to the sugar raised -
when you eat,
the sugar
around your mouth
I'm very fond of a jelly doughnut
or cream filled
wiggling my tongue around inside.

But, I don't mean to get to philosophical or nothin'
about the meaning of doughnuts
but as my daddy used to say,
"Life is like a big doughnut shop:
a bunch of sugar-glazed

Window seat

This is a little universe
because actually, how high
do we ever really get?
I'm eyeing the stars beyond
like our dreams deferred
Then I look down
at what appears...
I suppose,
like ants
on the ground
going about
their business -
so that's our world.
And I can only wonder
how much
do We love?

Feeding you the apple

Close your eyes
And feel my hot breath
Just below your earlobe.

Listen as I take a bite of
The crisp white flesh,
puncturing the skin.

Trace the juice as it travels
Down your chest.
My tongue not far behind.

Fruit without brains

You think you are
the King
larger than Elvis
especially when young -
green and hard
cocky and confident
boastful and adventurous
When I pull you out,
you invariably make
people chuckle
or even blush.
To have a sense of humor
is important -
girls like that.
You're such a jokester
such a Romeo.
You ripen with age
big and sweet
her oral treat
and to satisfy her deep
True, a diamond may be prettier
but a big
just may be
"a girl's
best friend."
Bananas are
a ridiculous fruit
with no brains.

A Most Positive Piece

A billion balconies facing the sun
Spreading an unstoppable virus of nothingness
Creation paint balled back in its place
Creation ridiculed
Digital middle finger
Creation is dead


I can’t wait for you to cut your teeth
on my unmarked flesh.
Trace the veins in my arm
with your forked tongue.
Nuzzle my nape
with your blunt nose
Before you devour me.
There is a crispness
to your words
as they coil inside me.
I am planting an apple tree.
The possibilities are endless.

Deliciously Wrong

I know
I shouldn't have you
But you always
make me
You don't look cold
Oh, no...
you are my favorite flavor
Most of all
I love the way you drip
as my tongue goes
down on you
I know you are not good
for my health
Ice cream
whether in cup
or on a cone
are so
deliciously wrong.

Last Words

The last poem I'll ever write
The words just aren't there anymore
The point is lost, on another moonless night
And the doors are closed on this mind for sure
Tired and wasting words on a world deaf
Bored of bored faces and closed old eyes
Sick of banging a drum with no strength left
Being the only one asking all the "whys"
So, this flaccid work will end 30 years
of swirling, crazy and homeless words
These few cockneyed lines, devoid of tears
Will be my last testament of the absurd
It's quite refreshing.
Tata...for now.


Life is not so precious
why would I think so?
It doesn't look so precious
on TV
We get sick
some terrible disease
We crash
We kill
war and
starvation too
While for too much for a few
much to little for many others survival
We take a life
or don't give it a chance
murder in degrees
Lucky to get old
I suppose
call it Life
All content for the daily news
and hapless poems
until one day I am the one
in the ground.
But in meantime
Don't touch my television screen

Pub Singer

The pub singer plays her set
With yet another three songs
Heard on radios since asteroids began
But, god damn she’s beautiful.
The notes play out like a picked on playground genius
Screaming off the world’s end
She doesn’t pretend to be any good
She does it live on stage
Half the audience sees her heart
The other half are out smoking
Hanging on to love bitten shoulders

100Thousand Poets For Change!

All the best books have been written
At least the new ones won't sell
Triangle, square, circle, cross, no gods
Just games, stations of play
rotting young imaginations away
while the books mould and fade
on shelves old and wooden grey
and minds rot and display
nothing other than game over eyes
some folks try, scream, scrawl and splash
words on pages and paint on canvas
bubbling intelligences, burning softly
waiting for someone to throw petrol
on the fires of the global mind
Below are keys to a change
maybe a door we could open
grab hands, walk through cold
yet smiling as it's an intelligent breeze blowing


Can't shake this awful feeling of grey
Keeping the horrid bright of day at bay
I want to keep the curtains closed
Avoiding the questions my inner voices pose
But still hearing them, incessant, insane
A self defeating mantra, over and over again
"did you see their faces, their beautiful eyes?"
"see the unspoken question, why dad why?"
The airport more like a hospital, sterile and sad
The lights go out on another worst day you ever had
My sadness is an offering to the nothing in the sky
In the hope that I can see a happy spark in their eyes
Weak, I am weak, failure I am, all is fear
My defense pointless against a solitary tear

Crying into suitcases

Did not want to wake up today
Today is yet another day of goodbye
Did not want to wake up, but I didn't sleep
A thousand cold winters freezing my heart awake
Did not want to leave my room
I did, to look at faces pure, unsullied
Hair ruffled, messy and beautiful
My hands shake
I clench eyelids to remain manly
Choking love in my throat as it swells
I am lost from today again
Kisses by mail
Love through some electronic ether
Tears are the only real thing
From a punishing heart
That just keeps beating
A lonely song, heard by few
I won't smile today, can't smile
Won't, as there is no will, can't, speaks for itself
I want the clocks to die
the sky to freeze
holding the sun in it's place
trapping the moon
keeping today here, never ending
But I see clouds pass in a cerulean dead sky
and know nothing has changed
my punishing heart shatters
Into packed suitcases.


Tell me why
we didn't give love a chance
and why
we just let it pass

Tell me why
you now call me up
after all the
time that has passed

Tell me why
I didn't know
that all this time
You were there.

Felt curtains

To feel cheated, that awful grasping despair
Turning us into fools, dim witted, unaware
To feel loved, such a great painkiller to have
Soothing blue waves across that loneliest of gaps
To feel needed, a certain pride, but a fear underneath
A dark mistrust that stops your complete self belief
To feel hated, refreshing and who really cares?
It's what they can do about it, which you need to be aware
To feel fear of death, what a complete waste of time
It's the only thing shared equally and that suits me just fine
To feel lust or lusted after, a ball shaking fear
One error, a cock led choice can cost all you hold dear
To feel religious, how funny, the invisible know it all
I've been happy ignoring the great architects calls
To feel crazy, not mad, nor mentally disturbed
A fly buzzing in your mind, making thoughts all bent and curved
To feel control, what a cruel horror, a life like a map
Wending its rapid way and there's no turning back
To feel, to feel, TO FEEL, TO FEEL, TO FEEL, TO FEEL.
How lucky is that?

Laughing Anger

As the devils laugh and the angels cry
Teardrops laden with guilt from a sky
Empty and tired, no birdsong to calm
The incendiary anger desiring harm
Malice and hatred on the nitrogen wind
Chills the souls of those who have sinned
Panic breaks out as shop fronts burn
The great duped pass by and will never learn
That a smile and an "ok" are not always what they seem
That when pushed, a surface calm, quiet and clean
Can suddenly whip into a bone crushing whirlpool
Of violence and mayhem and woe betide the fool
Who pushes that final button and madness escapes
And their future is no longer in the hands of the fates
But in the hands of crushing, violent resolve
Around which red mists and hurricanes revolve
And as the lights go out and another scream goes unheard
The reasons for the terror become distant and blurred
And all that is left is regret.

Time Flashes

Measuring holidays, family time, potential fun time
Is simple, the shorter they feel, the happier
And when smiles are tight and all is "just fine"
The hours turn to days and the weeks forever
The memory burned by that first kiss
Sears hell hot as the breathing quickens
And the "she's not right for you" sour as piss
Brings knives to cut an atmosphere that thickens
The teenage sleep, while bullies await
Flashes by in leg shaking fast seconds
A christmas eve vigil makes morning late
But Dad doesn't sober up as quick as he reckoned
So the clock plays its part, I'm certain it laughs
At how we bipedal insects are so reliant
Upon a man made measure making all of our pasts
A sad battle against happy memories defiance.

The bus stop experience

Kept waiting, beyond my control
Annoying, the laziness of the bus
Excuses, it was tired, engine emotional
Mean shit to me, I bought a ticket
What do I get? A wait, long and wet
I've plans, the bus tries to kill them
The bus that believes it's god
Controlling me and my plans
Cracking my dream wide open
I believed I was opening a door
So all the darkness could play
Yet I find myself in shade
Cold, damp, unfulfilled
Waiting for this bloody bus
If it had a rectum
I am more than certain
It would crawl right up it
It's diesel laughter echoing
Life is filled with buses
Thousands of them
Ignoring us all, killing our time
Hands up passengers of the world!
I can see you all!
I can see the buses too
Don't become a bus
Be a taxi, called when needed
Ready to deliver the destination
The wait will make us angry
The buses will get burned
And the lesson the bus will learn?
Nothing, they have no ears to listen
They just feel their own grumbling ride
And grunt foul fumes believing they're words

Happiness always bookended by death

And the stars dumbly shine, imperious
While I walk, warm, drunk and delirious
The sea massaging the sand as the moon wanes
I'm aware of every step that old time gains
In its relentless chase of each and every thing
With every drawn breath, some heart stops beating
Walking hand in hand with morning dew happiness
Death creeps closer with its tired, cold caress
Tapping on my shoulder, a dark and fearsome reminder
That this glorious feeling gets crueler not kinder
When bliss is within reach of jealous mortal arms
That awful specter and its incurable charms
Laughs at the sky, with a grin hard and serious
And the stars dumbly shine, imperious.

Love silences the screams

That creeping unease across the room
Her face is that upset angry kind of strange
Any butterfly winged comment made to kill the doom
Will explode like a verbal mortar on a firing range
So you sit, the silence a crowd of oppressive ghosts
Swirling forlornly in the space between two hearts
And anxiety spills orderly as on anger's waves it coasts
And the argument ends before it even starts
But there is no making up, no "i was wrong"
A mausoleum of an atmosphere coldly grasps
At the music slowly fading on this sad, sad song
A relationship already halfway lost in pasts
Being made with every word that is not spoken
Every gaze avoided like a plague of dead lovers
You now feel what once was warm is now a token
To be laughed at by non-important others

Probing Time

Aliens do it, well so "they" tell me
Governments love it, a real riot of a game
FBIs, CIDs, MI5s, an acronym festival of probers
Surgeons have them, any hole will do
Sounds like a guy I knew in Peckham
Fingers are good at it
Flies have tongue like things that sound close enough
Morrissey should have one shoved in his never never
Dead people and burgers, what a total rectal one
Done probes, tomorrow the toilet plunger heart massager
And the kids in the riots thieve and burn
and the politicians cringe and look stern
they can't believe that they hurt their own
"can you sign my expense claim Theresa?"

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