O What Shall We Do With These Drunken Men?
1
Oh what shall we do
what shall we do
with these drunken men -
like my very own darling
Mike Hammer?
Last night
I picked him up
from outside the pub
where he'd been drinking
with his mates
And in the car
almost near our home
he says: I love you
And I say to him:
Is that you talking
or the beer?
And he says
like lightning:
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Sick Frog
OK, it’s not something I ate
or my youthful wild days
catching up with me;
no – it’s not me taking turns to be
grumpy, and jumpy and mean-looking;
no, it’s not me dissatisfied with
my place in the food chain
or my place in the wild scheme of things;
or just being unhappy about the effects on me
in the wild accidents of evolution
or being a victim of Irrational Creation
or just unhappy in an existential sort of way
asking questions like:
What’s the meaning of it all?
Or
Is there a Heaven for Frogs
or are we just Dinner for the French?
and finding it all a Cruel Joke played on us frogs
by some Celestial Omnipotent Frog Being;
no, nor is it for want of sexual partners -
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Nasrudin's donkeys
1
it’s graduation day
and the teacher gives awards
to each:
a book to one
a staff to another
silk or precious stones;
and to Nasrudin
the teacher
gives a donkey
2
It is some years
and the teacher
hears of Nasrudin’s fame
and comes to visit
the House of Prayer Nasrudin oversees
and to pay homage to the Saint
buried just beside
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Ding! Ding! Ping! Ping!
together now
let us sing
the song of inanity
the song of no meaning
it is the song of the no-light
the song of the ludicrous
the ludicrous become meaning
meaning become ludicrous
This become that
That become this
ding! ding! ding! ding!
ping! ping! ping! ping!
everything has penetrated its opposite
and the world become beastly
no beginning, no end
no origins
let us sing now
the world topsy-turvy
the brain in a soup,
the mind's one word: baa-baa-baa
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Preachers Turn To Poetry
preachers turn to poetry
which is a most natural thing to do
since most revelations are in verse;
preachers, like the wily snake in Paradise,
look for cunning new ways: and so they turn to poetry sites
and take on the roles of poets
and disguise sermons in verse
and Stalin-style Revelations of Guilt and Sin
and Fearful Humility as poems;
and in Ppreachers turn to poetry
which is a most natural thing to do
since most revelations are in verse;
preachers, like the wily snake in Paradise,
look for cunning new ways: and so they turn to poetry sites
and take on the roles of poets
and disguise sermons in verse
and Stalin-style Revelations of Guilt and Sin
and Fearful Humility as poems;
and in Paradise these will sit as Poet Laureates
winning Eternal Fame
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Please Leave Me Alone
please leave me alone
I don’t want to think;
please leave me alone
I ‘m happy to be a slave
please leave me alone
I only want to be led;
please leave me alone
for I only want a book
that tells me what I should do
please leave me alone
for I’ve found what I need;
and it’s just so good
as others have done
all the thinking for you and me
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A Bull For Me
I think, Sirs, and most inimitable Ladies
I think I prefer to look at a bull
The sketch of a bull, the head of a bull perhaps
even if but a study by an artist
rather than some fancy prophet in glorious paint
or in grand chapel or some miracle recounted
in paint and colors and with consummate skill
or even God descending
ah, all these do not take my fancy
they smack too much of the Elevated;
there’s too much
of the grandstanding in these
Grand Divine Themes
but the face of a bull, ah give me a sketch
of the face of a bull
just the bull, all marks of nature in it
and just itself
no symbolism, no conceit, no artifice
no High sounding theology, no Revelation
but just animal nature in its nudity
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Toy Master
ah, sweet little children
and their loving parents
all rolling merrily
into the fair
from happy homes
near and far
come, see my toys
my colorful toys
and dolls made
in various countries
for all good little children
of our bright world
there are toy soldiers
and there are ballerinas;
there are ducks
and pigeons
and this little pig goes:
Oink! Oink! Oink!
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Greek Tragedy (A Tale Of Horror)
1
He'd love her
and then the coldness
of marriage took love
away from him
and the coldness turned into suspicion
and then into an obsession:
and she was an inconvenience
he murdered her a Friday
night
suffocated her with her pillows
it was easy;
and he heard her whisper with her last breath:
'I'll have your eyes'
he cut her up in manageable parts,
and buried her below the floorboards
in the study
2
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The Old Miser and his 3rd Wife
1
The Old Miser
my husband is dying
and he makes me promise
I must put all his money in his coffin
when he dies
“O my legal third wife
the only one surviving -
you must put all my money
secretly in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring away all the money
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
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