Chronicle of a Deinstallation

When I uninstalled face-recognition
from the software amid my own brain

there commenced an amorphous condition
that some might recognize as insane

had I poured my whole life down the drain?
had I nixed my fine knack for precision?

much was lost & how strange was the gain
when I uninstalled face-recognition

The Great Escape [story in 16 lines]

(i)

"Escapeescapeescape!"
we stood with mouths agape

no prisoner had fled
but one amid his bed

went wandering so free
in mental liberty

his soul had left behind
body & humankind

(ii)

nocturnal moksha seemed
a dream we scarce had dreamed

yet every dreamer goes
beyond sorrow I s'pose

yet fleetingly 'tis true
till comes prison anew

when dawnlight's tassels drape
there ends the great escape

The Hazards & Advantages of Confabulation

A billion banana peels
     were lounging in the park
a pool of rather lively eels
     had festered in the dark
I took a stroll beside the pool
     and slipped upon a peel!
while I might claim I'm not a fool
     thank God this wasn't real!

An Inner Sojourn

A poem from my toe arose
     and when it reached my heart
it lodged a spell and (I suppose)
     developed its hushed art
but when anon it further rose
     and reached my addled brain
my intellect remarked it glows!
     tears tumbled in soft rain

Vasu In Situ

Here's seen the Professor in his natural habitat
his shirt is sharply ironed & he doesn't wear a hat

fluorescents mark the ambiance of this eternal office
but where's his phone or laptop? where his prose & poem & chat?

no violin is noted in this pseudo-natural photo
nor is a dog observed! can you perchance account for that?




================

for Vasudev Murthi

Pantaloons

The soul has infinite pockets in its pants
in each life it's depositing something new
when honeyed nuggests attract long lines of ants
what is the soul in its pantaloons to do?
 

Cheesecake Factory Evening

I.
Pomegranate mojito evening
(someone like Sade's background croon)
neither elated nor quite grieving
(hidden from view the rotund moon)

avacado eggrolls for belly -- but brain?
philosophic drumrolls may fail to sustain

II.
Some blame my beverage for florid expressions
I spy the blooming of torrid impressions
haply my verses lead readers astray?
such are the hazards of having one's say

III.
Quiet in the carport with fon & cigar
idly we broadcast stray doodles afar
quoth Blake 'Tis published as soon as it's penned!
mirroring angels I thumb the word Send

IV.
Poems' allusions mere gossamer lace
limned on the parchment of infinite space
data with voice like words scrawled on the shore
brief in the pause before waves may erase

"The form of my intent" [boomerang poem]

The form of my intent
the formula of my aim
the shape of my lament
the audience of my game
the content of my frame
the tenor of my extent
the self behind my name
the form of my intent

==============

first line (& last line & title) borrowed from Shakespeare (Twelfth Night) [via Nitoo Das's Facebook status update -- I having dashed off this verse riff without happening to recognize the origin of the line]