BEYOND
THE SHADOW
--Ram Krishna Singh
1
ALLERGIES
The
barber sees
a
potential customer
in
me but I pass
the
tense faces
after
the long walk sunshine
a
fag in the car
short
carnival:
neatly
hide faded vests drying
in
the balcony
helter
skelter
afternoon
windy rain
allergies
again
2
WHO
CARES?
Death
hides in the body
but
who cares? it’s obscure
living
on the edge
seeking
space into swamp
they
all talk about the sun
swelling
in the sky
and
close eyes to the spider
spinning
waves on the ceiling
all
alone, but who cares?
suspicion
and distance
like
lovers they pretend
to
leave yet stay longer
dishing
out luxuries
showing
off generosity
on
the heart’s fancy table
waiting
to welcome the guest
3
MIRAGE
They
say my birth was a heavenly event:
here
I am suffering third-rate villains
that
erect walls to stop the chariots
from
Merkaba: the angels fume but who cares
heaven
is a mirage in human zoo
4
NEW
YEAR
The
dates on calendar question
all
my undone acts
and memories that haunt or fade
in
nightly nakedness
stumbling
toward the next day’s sun
without
celebration
at
63 January jeers
my
degenerating sex
a
still itch: mantra and mirror
quiet
God and drying petals
5
GLEAM
OF LIGHT
Late
August:
clouded
midnight, sneezing
restless
in bed
all
negative vibes
well
up the mind
jackals
yell outside
I
read Hsu Chicheng
for
a gleam of light
6
I CAN
LIVE
I’ve
outlived
the
winter’s allergies
and
depressing rains
in
a human zoo
I
can live
my
retirement too
without
pension and medicine:
the
wheelchair doesn’t frighten
I
can live
uncared
and unknown
survive
broken home
the
numbness of the arms
the
pain in the neck
and
inflation too
7
I
SEE HISTORY CRIPPLED
Time’s
wrinkling fingers
trivialize
the sun and snow
in
a crooked land
I
see history crippled
with
midnight dyspnoea
the
green umbrella
hosts
disaster:
the
avalanche waits on its shoulders
the
wound opens
8
DEAD
OR ALIVE
My
shrinking body
even
if I donate
what’s
there for research:
devil
in the spine
abusing
tongue in sleep
or
bleeding anus
defy
all prayers
on
bed or in temple—
the
same heresy
oozing
and stinking
onanist
excursion
dead
or alive
9
CLAY DREAMS
They
make my face
ugly
in my own sight
what
shall I see in the mirror?
there
is no beauty
or
holiness left
in
the naked nation:
the
streams flow dark
and
the hinges of doors moan
politics
of corruption
I
weep for its names
and
the faces they deface
with
clay dreams
10
SANGAM
The
crack in the sky
is
not the rosy cleavage
to
rape the body
nor
is the beast any free
to
escape the bloody river
that
reflects stony wrath
in
doggy position
they
all expect their reward
for
burying the noise
of
sunny fire wheeling
in
frozen passion
turn
beggars they all
search
warmth with ash-smeared sadhus
at
roadside tea stall
whistle
and wash off sins
in
sangam muddled
with
privileged few soar high
but
I’m glad I crawl on earth
my
roots don’t wave in the air
11
WHY
DO THEY QUESTION
If
hand can meet hand
and
embrace is not sin
if
lip to lip kissing
or cheek to cheek hugging
is
not forbidden
why
do they question
meeting
of thighs or breasts:
divine
in action
it’s
spring; the body’s love
itching
to bloom with soul
12
QUAIL
DREAMS
I’ve
lived 23000 days
awaiting
a day that could become
god’s
day in eden, earth or within
or
even my grandson’s smile
on
his first day in mother’s arms
now
I sit an empty boat
on
a still river
and
shake with quail dreams
13
HERE
AND NOW
The
body is precious
a
vehicle for awakening
treat
it with care, said Buddha
I
love it’s stillness
beauty
and sanctity
here
and now
sink
into its calm
to
hear the whisper in all
its
ebbs and flows
erect,
penetrate
the
edge of life and loss
return
to wholeness
14
THEY
TOO KNOW
Flowers
don’t bloom
in
tribute to
builders’
apathy
the
trees are dying:
they
too know they’ll be felled
or
the heat will kill
the
concrete rises
calamity
too will rise
none
talk the ruins they bring
15
STRANGER
I
don’t know where I lived
in
my former existence
but
the hell I’ve breathed
for
three decades here
couldn’t
adapt my soul:
I
remain a stranger
to
them and to the cold walls
that put out the candle-lights
in
my roofless house
16
INDIFFERENCE
Being
good
couldn’t
make me know
any
better
I
was harmless
they
sold my name
and
became
what
I couldn’t
in
the middle of day light
I
vanished like faces
from
voters’ list
with
no difference
to
who wins
or
who loses
17
I
TOO DESCEND
Some
fresh bones and designer dress
distorted
hopes, cataract vision
hardly
any better the faces of the body
and
if there is a soul, the soul hears
the
map guides the mind’s midnight
but
the destination is different
deception
is courage
they
know the end of journey
and
get down when the train stops
I
too descend
18
ECHOES HAUNT
Sleepy
roads
with
or without light
tear
the sky
I
watch the murmur
in
the misty darkness
Tao
of midnight
tranquil
emptiness:
breathing
deceptive cold
the
echoes haunt
19
QUAKES
IN ELEMENTS
She
trusts her reading of my horoscope
and
predicts a comfortable future
even
as I know my toothache
now
means the fall of my teeth
and
anal bleeding means sure surgery
my
dying libido is as uncomfortable
as
the dream of humans sleeping on the ceiling:
their
flattened naked back amuses me
who
knows who’ll fall first?
before
I wake up I try to gauge the selvage
of
restless lines, moon, saturn, and venus
conspiring
new challenges
for
the quakes in my elements
it’s
already mid-november
and
the bouts of bronchial allergy
tell
of the cycle of incarceration
her
moving lips are no soporific
20
NUDE DELIGHT
The
coiled divine
renews
eternity
in
the body’s cells
fed
on sensuous sweetness
and
moment’s littleness
for
years fleshly reign
seemed
spirit’s radiance
in
the deep pit
now
suddenly sparks the itch
for
heaven’s nude delight
21
LET’S
MEET
Before
the bananas ripe
let’s
meet at least once
lest
the fog dampen passion
let’s
water our love
the
sun is bright this morning
and
night’s promising
let’s
meet and unfreeze winter
of
years, drink some wine
restore
warmth of faith and hope
and
heal the breaches
without
black goggles for seeing
let’s
meet at least once
22
DRIED VISION
Teary
eyes
with
sparks and lightning
dried
vision
caged
existence
seek
deliverance
muttering
old prayers
23
SEASON’S PRICK
Unpruned
roses
and
unknown grasses
make
me aware
of
the emptiness
the dusk in her room sounds
she
searches out
her
shadow in
the
rising moon
I
feel the season’s prick
24
DEGENERATION
When
gods are out to teach me a lesson
where
to go to pray or find relief?
my
prophet friends predict each day good
and
the future fulfilling, the palmists find
the sun, saturn, venus and rahu hostile:
they
seek money for rituals, stones or mantras
while
God gives us the best in life gratis
I
can’t change man or nature, nor the karmas
now
or tomorrow they all delude
in
the maze of expediency and curse
stars,
fate, destiny, or life before and after
degenerating
the mind, body, thought and divine
25
CRACKS
The
cracks on the parapet
have
widened for the peepal
to
stay green for once
rains
too want us to drench
our
heads and feel one
with
cool wind
in
a dark corner
shed
fears and enjoy love
26
BUGGING
Each
night a challenge:
suffocative
restlessness
sleepless
spirits’ noise
sexual
starvation
anal
menstruation
dingy
subcounscious
conspire
behind closed eyes
absent
healing and
wishful
miracles
a
clueless sun rises
bugging
time and life
27
NEIGHBOR
With
scheming mind
and
crafty heart
loud
and rebellious
a
professional loser
perfumes
the room
with
flattering lips
and
strays a preacher
to
revolution
28
VACATION
Because
I had no STD code to dial Heaven
I
walked into Hell measuring happiness
in
buried lines on palms and shrinking head:
I
couldn’t know when love sieved and sank
like
a ship on vacation
29
YOU
CAN’T SCENT ME
In
the poems I write
you
can read my mind
even
know when I’m blue
before
the mirror
when
I stand in the dark
you
can’t scent me
nor
will words comfort
in
chilly December
when
alone in candle light
empty
coffee cups
deride
the syllables
I
spin to make haiku
my
hairs in air
reveal
the baldness:
wank
without wad
30
I
TALK TO MYSELF IN BED
After
a day’s labor
they
lie on a sand pile
in
the basement of
a
new shopping complex
rising
slowly next door
like
the waves at Nellore beach
that
broke before wiping
my
name on the sand
I
take a snap at sunset:
they
play with plastic bottles in water
or
eat fried fish in the huts
I’m
warned against placing it on Facebook
she
hates my face
nor
am I allowed to speak
to
the drug addict picked up
from the door steps of
Varsha
Apartments
his
father questions
if
there’s law in the country
only
a street dog wags its tail
I
wheeze and take a seroflo puff
and
wonder if I should visit
Nimhans
and get checked
to
manage my sleep
she
questions why I think of Bangalore
for
treatment of all my ailments
and
takes me to Bannerghatta zoo
for
animal viewing
--RAM KRISHNA SINGH
