Brown Sands on the Blue Beach

2007-12-11T14:11:00.000-08:00

2007-12-11T13:59:00.000-08:00

Taupo yellow bird songs

2007-11-17T22:01:00.000-08:00

1

look i can see the bottom of taupo
Max's Emma's blue salad eyes
amie's baked cakeish creamish redlips
texting heaven away from greenfield screaming
bikes that Justin likes.sea gulls object to my
talking to redhaired Irish coffee. I'm
lucky says bright green neon lips on
yellow trees and sparrow and orange
beak myna. Giggles in a distant away
from a cow dung song three leaf
clover fencing the children away from
the snow on Rupeha. clouds will not
more tonight. The indigenous will smile as
hunch back parrot mountain
sun wakes summer backs. There goes
the pirate mayna again calling me to
Napier. Let fields shine float queenstown's
yellow hills dry winds love life killing
mother earth a warm irish song. give
me a warm kiss that i will not forget KFC

2

look i can the eyes on the mountains as
a bald Maori lady does her research on
oil. i can smell beef talo as grassnoses
my breath & I break Moses'
commandments on women. M
said i was unstoppable $ S is lovely
lady tall % full of stars in her smile
my neck's burning natalie redskirt
as i massage chookie's back just
back from 74 splitt ave where poms
are pleasant not pompous. No
one has to die tonight is a mutineer's
cold gold song. My black sweater is faithful
& Emma turns & cries on every auckland
hamilton south isle. Taupo street why
do we get so personal is morgan-ators
song. 14 racing licensed in a country
against boy races. irene i can smell your
kiss that you never gave me. i love you.

3

in scotland like pigeons shadow everyone
related to wallace as red flowers sing
with white flowers outside my blind window
an emotional computer shutters talks
to a million seconds of mom's dying
voice. my brother loves me & Ed
has decided to win a lotto lover by
a blue pond where ducks quack
at quake point sweating not bleeding
poetry need not bleed. jack it potatoes
scream soft breeze whizzing mobikes
no dampness push no clouds in land
sway sing blue piercing summer transparent
waters. i love you amie. always have
how people find true love land
volcanic proportions let lovers kiss
cry like emma as i await stephanie
book tonight 7 neha looks at rajastan's
bleeding dusty horizons. no horseman
sings savage and the princess
nothing rises from the dunes

4

two messages from jones double clicking
chicken habit. stuff's with me subway's oil
cajun sauce and oregano sonali I
fought by her lemonade kitchen
is love worth three years only. what
does one think of argentenian nurses
that earthshattering scream thud
coming fucking heaven's graffitti
terrorism. wellington woos
warm smiles in cold isles
do not forget the ducks dark song
canadian pines hurt X smile
careful we love you - the whanau
you are x alone pics sweat bebo smiles
magnified flower's magnanimosity
magnetic friendship no one needs
to die tonight. dust in takanini spears
a grey grave henderson song. no one
needs to die tonight

5

pools

2007-11-14T11:49:00.001-08:00

hot pools

black pools

brown bull dos

a world in your pools

a bull dog yelps and kisses warmth

a doctor out to kill

waikato I do not know

Solomon is cool I understand

Mangonui

2007-11-14T11:37:00.001-08:00

Manguniu’s sharks and chips

Old Viagra failed red mountain

necks sisters and mothers

& a whorehouse that none use

a bay part brown part blue

gulls high and whitey

an abandoned ghosthouse

backpackers English white fish village

old Scotland away from holes

warm white burning sunlight

a distant mountain german backpacker

sleeps wakes dressed in black in night

a wooden carving hits me as cold water splashes

a huge breakfast

a small fire

2007-11-11T12:55:00.001-08:00

a small maori fire greets the northern isthmus nights

do you need some light

sulfur darkens brown the green pakeha

fields & hedge goes wild

paiha brown faded weeds chookie screams

manuka loves an angel tonight

do i need some light

ambulance and sirens

no almonds black

a marae ascent

smoke rises non stop

angel heart

hine puruto

germans come chinese hide

solomon taints a distant snow

no one knows

where ngawha leads

Flash journal

2007-11-10T07:30:00.001-08:00

Visual Diary: Writing with a Camera

It's raining cats and donkeys
The camera has to be held
Closer closer closer
Slowly get closer…

I made the picture with amy's
Name explode. My first independent
Flash experience

`

What an achievement
I'm proud to be me
Fifteen hours to
The deadline

Drafts and Journal
hold that camera steady

It was a clear night and the red bus had passed the Sahyadri Mountains from Bombay to Poona. It looked like a speck, a firefly that sped on the motorway at 100 kilometres an hour. This is where Shivaji fought the Moghals in that pass where Bajirao died protecting his king. Those were the days…loyalty, valour, honesty, sincerity and all the other abstract nouns that can't be measured. I marvelled at the lake in the distance. The stars were playing catch and cook. The moon was being fickle behind
the clouds. There was a warm air flowing. A reassuring warm air with the warmth of a mother's heart that looks at her first born as the baby takes those first crucial steps. The lake must be freezing. And all the fireflies above could hardly be warm. Thank god for the fire in their bellies. Raison always has a fire in his belly. Wonder what he wants this time. It was early evening yet and the wada pau he had eaten on the motorway was charged with garlic chutney. Hot as hell. Raison on the other
hand, does not like food. He prefers tea to food and smoking to drinking. No wonder he is so skinny.

This time I must write a story that is fresh and captivating. I appreciate this class and the voice thingy. Read Witi's story…he's captured the mood to perfection.

The Start
Luckily I have the resources. I have three hundred and forty three poems on 343 on my website blueskyfox dot com. I can use a host of pictures and resources, I have created and collected.
Took a look at ready made templates for a photo presentation. Beats the idea of originality.

But first I must collect the pictures from various sites. 10 good pictures is all I need. I'm beginning to enjoy this and it's just been fifteen minutes.

My presentation will be called: where do ideas come from – where does poetry come from? That's a fantastic start. I need to cancel my interview for a teaching job tomorrow.
Great I have chosen the best six pictures but there is no pause between pictures. It's going at the rate of knots. Need to pause the picture. Give it blur effect and some words. It's a great start for a job that has taken only twenty five minutes maybe I'll sleep after all.

The Concept: Early Morning Subconscious Speaketh
Thursday, 10 November 2006 9/11/2006 9:31 a.m.

The transition from wildblueskies.com the original website to blueskyfox.com. Slide by slide. Call it the story. The story : Websites, Poetry, Ads.
Start with geocities website: loveatiger to wildblueskies to blueskyfox. Ok now that is done. The concept is clear. It needs buttons but we will look into that later, for now.

Got Godfather. The soothing italian mafiaso of a musical melodious miracle

But Macs are killing me and putting me under absolute navigational disaster. I feel like a ship driver taking his yellow submarine for a ride. And yeah, instead of automatic transition I need a click to move button.

Hey ideas I have. Flash expertise I don't
I have got a host of stuff available but am struggling for the little things. This thing that happened to me has drained me, totally. Anyway concentrate.

In 24 hours I will know Flash…A killer navigation system is on its way…So help me God.
I could have handed this assignment if it weren't for the induction yesterday. But look…I'm making excuses.

In some ways PCs are better in other ways Macs are better
Just sticking to basics so that I do not get stuck as I got in Dynamic text. Finally I kept it simple. The KISS formula that brings you back to eart and prayed to GOD>

The angela poems - II

2007-11-10T07:25:00.001-08:00

a childish look of glee by a maori poet that has stolen almonds
in a faded red night from a small white house that hides a marai
a little boy smiles
at a little brown crush

The angela poems - I

2007-11-10T07:21:00.000-08:00

walkway into fernflat
through wind carved
matheson & bleeding waitangi
as a bright keri keri
weeds brown lavender purple rimu leaves
tea leaves painting white churches
another whanau member dies at 46

cigerette, whiskey more subtle than christchurch trams
humid wind smells of sea, in a distant dark field dog barks
biting winds
brotherhood roam the nights looking for a broken car

she nurses a broken soul the tear angel brown
choog choogs like a dark messiah
dark home to a sweet white death

bright auckland frying oil

2007-11-09T16:13:00.001-08:00

in bombay style grease on colaba's streets
cheaper by dozen and jeans at elco markets
and the ugly juhu galli where we got our daily bread
as muslims prayed on early morns I sprawled on uncle's double bed
listening to Michael and Elvis, Rod and Shakin Stevens
grandmaa lived and the temple distributed golden sweets
and money that i bought Secret Seven's Malorie Towers with
Kamil discussed how one must never read the back page of a book
kills suspense under the pipal tree that has winter slightly warmer than
Auckland summer

hamilton

2007-11-09T16:08:00.001-08:00

waikato with it's long bright canoes flows silently dark brown cruel hidden waters
besides a yellow building's dingy tribal laugh that flows with the pumas of canada
there's magnolia in the side always wilson's magnolias but how'd we know if the river is poisoned with love

Julia Kitchen Cup

2007-11-09T16:05:00.001-08:00

julia kitchen cup smiles canadian dry cool cool
there's an innocent a maturity of bright mangoes in december
how many people do you meet in an obscure kitchen besides
a toilet with a knife a cup and hot burning chillies and know
you are going to be friends for life

Southland, ChristChurch, Queenstown...It's all happening

2007-10-27T02:40:00.001-07:00

I just returned in the blistering, rain-filled streets of Auckland and now having lived in 22 different parts of the city, I can safely say I hate Auckland. I am sick of the rush rush and construction concrete flying out as I have possibly just completed my Graduate Diploma in English and Drama and come to tie a few loose ends before I move somewhere, anywhere outta here. I have been Auckland's proudest supporter as Auckland has been mine but it's time to move.
The South Island is a different country altogether and before I went there I was toying with the idea of going to Wellington or Hamilton and working fulltime. I love relief teaching but to teach full time a bunch of thankless teenagers is not my idea of job satisfaction.
We flew into a red evening via Christchurch from Queenstown and I was deeply satisfied at my seven day trip and I will sending you bits and pieces of the travel journal through the night as I am inside graduate centre having been dropped by my cousin Gaurav Ramavat, who has drove us around South Island. I had a falling out with this particular cousin since I did not hear from him for a long, long, long time. My hostel office is closed and I am doing my last journal at the all night place which
is filled with people doing their academic shit.
Thus I am about to embark on my writing journey.

Meal at two palaces (aftermath of Ramzan)

2007-10-04T07:33:00.001-07:00

Meal at two palaces (aftermath of Ramzan)
The palace is Herne bay and does not have any bus routes. Now, I got an invitation from Yasseer, the Arabic teacher (its a club not a course) and the food was plenty and thus, I went. Chookie came with me. She's not my girlfriend and we reached Herne bay. I thought of amy. I should not have but I did. Anyway it was a huge house that these people the hosts, cooks and servers did not own. But it was like a white Saudi Arabian house that belongs to an egyptian and his chinese wife from malaysia!
Noo...Singapore. We removed out shoes outside and saw galeechaas spread on the floor and we were home. My granpa had a thing for galeechaas or the carpets that looked like flying carpets from Arabian nights but did not fly. Now this red carpet was in Andheri and it came out during diwali and i am glad it did not fly or we would have hurt the crackers and the rockets and the fireworks that Jetli, a mad bastard send from the floor and laughed. he drank too much Chivas Regal.
Anyway so we went to this palace and had koftas (no not of sweet gourd or dudhee but they were made of mince) and lentil soup also known as dal. There were too french girls who had come and i was talking to chrisbarretto@gmail.com. His real name is Chris Barrett but that was taken. Too BAD. Anyway he confirmed my theory that people on vodafone have vodafone friends and people with telecom have telecom friends. Both Cell phone companies that allow free text to ONLY their company. It's like Airtel
vs Orange or now it has become maroon or purple or lavender. Anyway the food was gorgeous. Humus and baba humous and dates (not dry but fresh) tasted like leechee and the yellow small fruit the skin of which stuck to my tongue. The doctor woman was great and chookie pointed out only in hamilton where we went next day for another feed that I should have spoken to her. She was beautiful. Yasseer introduced me as a mentor and master as he thought I was a great poet. i think the guy who wrote
humpty dumpty was better than me. I told Yasseer, whom I call yahweh (Jehova in christian) that Arabic women were the best women on earth and he confirmed that they had lovely legs. and i wonder how one can see the legs through burkha and yasseer confirmed times had changed and i was happy for arabia and told Yasseer that he would never have a chance in taliban since he did not offer namaz and he confirmed that the prophet said food came before prayers just like the POTOBA_VITHOBA theory of the
Marathas. We went to renu's house next day but that was great. By the way, renu went horse riding.
The horse was larger than an elephant and her helmet moved as the horse jumped and the horse went to fight with another horse. Reminds you of that fat girl in Hum Kisise se Kam nahi...Kajal Kiran. that's the name. But renu was petrified. I will send the details soon.

Renu Goes Riding

2007-10-04T07:31:00.001-07:00

It is 2:37 in the morning of 4th October 2007. It's somebody's birthday but I don't know...wait it's Kim Red's birthday. But never mind. Write(?) now I have more green tea in my veins that Lalit Ramavat has alcohol. I am intoxicated.

Who is Lalit Ramavat? Well, Lalit Ramavat is the guy who wooed Renu, my maternal aunty in the years of 1976 to 1979 in Anand Society by acting cute on a small bicycle. A Lilliputian bicycle and disturbing her when she gave Tinnu(a boy who puts coconut oil in his hair) tuitions. And then of course, they fell in love and produced Gaurav and baby (everyone calls her that). Anyway, Renu is not the fastest on her feet. I remember once she took part in a race in Anand Society (an apartment with
three wings...not red bull but three buildings A B and C). She ran this race and borrowed a pink floral Salwar Kameez from Kishori Sharif (her sister, mother to Sameer, wife to late Abdul Rehman Sharif who wrote the movie burning train). Now Renu fell during the race as she tried running and Renu being Renu laughed. But Kishori was pissed off and the dress had to be darned since it was a pink Salwar Kameez with flowers. Renu once tried swimming in the Andheri Recreation Club where She
closed her eyes and flapped and flapped and flapped wild as a dolphin. Shobha was watching over her. Shobha is the youngest sister and a tough nut to crack and a lady with immense self control. Shobha once jumped into the pool from a height of two stories and hurt her hands but did not even budge. She got married at 29ish and yet she was pure :) if you know what I mean. Now I don't know any white girl or black girl or brown girl with that kind of self restraint. Anyway. Renu was flapping all
this time and when she opened her eyes...she was in the same place...ladies and gentlemen...not a mean feat this. Most people would have reached the opposite end and back.
But Renu was right next to Shobha in the pool when she took a deep breath, flapped like hell and after 5 minutes was in THE SAME SPOT. Something similar happened at Nainital where she was so proud of her cheeks turned red that she wanted to catch a helicopter to Bombay Walkeshwar where we lived and show off. And once said look how fast I can walk. And she flapped and flapped and did not reach far. That's Renu. Who once called prostrate 'prostitute' by mistake and the doctors and my grandpa
And my mama (Unky Pandey) were embarrassed in a Dadar Hospital where Grandpa had an operation. She barged in all 4.10 inches of her and asked if the 'prostitute' was done. That's Renu. Now she went riding. Her daughter in law Priya Gold wanted her to ride and I could not give her adequate warning though I am on a free phone away. Priya thought that she should show her mom-in-law a good time. She was all excited the night before but I was not. I actually forgot to warn her though I did remark
One cannot trust animals giving the Christopher Reeve example but did not ask her not to go. Priya was thinking if I ask her not to come she will be offended and Renu was thinking if I don't go, Priya would feel bad. Both waited on ceremony as Indian women do. Both waiting for the other person to back them out. Anyway. The day arrived and the horse was a huge madafaka. Huge. Taller than Renu. She was given a yellow helmet and words of encouragement by the white instructor and you know how
Polite and sweet they are. Ladies and gentlemen, don't go away. Now this horse was a moody bastard and in India the horse-Cooley runs besides you but here you are given instructions and Off... you go. it's like being given a manual to car driving and sends off on a long drive. No horse Cooley ran besides her and the horse vibrated off the ground like a spring toy on an electronic motor. The helmet was jumping and Renu thought this was it. END OF THE STORY. But It did not stop there.
The horse went faster and Renu was sweating in 10 degrees cold atmosphere over a hill route that was perilously closed to the valley and than the horse! Then the horse got into a bad temper and started fighting and competing with the other horse. Renu was closed to crying but the horse kept going to the other horse and FINALLY after an hour or so it was finished. And Renu was scared white. You see!

Renu goes to Raglan

2007-10-04T07:23:00.001-07:00

Now if the horseride was not enough where Renu was bouncing like a rubber ball on a hard wicket, wait till you hear this.
I should be studying but I am wtiting memoirs. I am hopeless.

Well after I met the EsSalaam Aleikum gang (Arabic language Club by Yahya: Not yasseer I had got his name wrong) and discussed the Arabic women's legs. We are both in the danger of being shot. But Yahya has a big heart that he gives to the most cruel women as you do and loses romance out of life. Anyway the food was great and next day chooks and me decided to go to a hot springs pool south of auckland near Hamilton.
Incidently that's where Gaurav and gang live. Now renu is a cook of high acclaim with her initial flirtations with garlic so powerful that Natalie my firstr crush who lived on top of the Ramavat family could have died of Ramavat Garlic syndrome. So high were they in use of garlic and onion that as a child gaurav ate onions like we eat apple. Slurp Crunch Yum.
But then hey Renu is a great cook in line with Neeta Mamee and my mom who is no longer a cook.
I told Chookee if she enjoyed the Arabic feast which was a delight (sorry to repeat myself) She would love Renu's home cooking. Anyway, we went.
It was a sunny day and than started drizzling and then lightning and than downright stormy. Priya gold the famous daughter-in-law was seated on the couch and thinking of assignment. Capture this Kodak moment please. She looked as if she was eating cotton soaked in kerosene because the assignment date was due. It is a pain in the ass, these bloody assignments and i have around 40 to do in a journal but I am writing the adventures of renu.
The meal was sensational and Chooks (all 5.9 kissed all of them, on the cheeks) and the food that tasted like mung was bean seed and bloody sensational plus the dal that grandmaa specialised in.
The ginger was perfect and the fenugreek seed and Kokum. You may ask what the F is KOKUM?
Kokum is made from Ratamba (Garcinia indica), a fruit from the plum family. The pulp and peels of the Ratamba are separated. The peels are soaked or smeared in its juices and sun dried. This is repeated often till the skin shrivels up but retains the red/purple colour and the slightly astringent flavour. This is now kokum, which is used as a souring agent in cooking.
Yes so the dal was perfect and thus we decided to go for a drive around the country may be to a hot sulphur spa pool. However, I explained to Chookie the slight problem of Baby and Renu and a public spa and swimming costumes and Chooks understood since her father used to call her a slut if she put perfume and thus her Maori mentality caught up with Indian modesty. Lets call it Culture.
We went off to Raglan after setting out in the opposite direction for 60 Kms. And the countryside was filled with sheep on hills and the horses (yes, horses, the ones that you ride on) and than we went in the right direction thanks to Mukeshbhai, a gujju dairy owner setting us right.
Raglan in the Maori legend is a healing place and I know it for sure. We were racing against sunset and storm and the hilly ways were very much like Piha beach pathway (Kaho naa pyaar hai) where Ms patel danced in a skimpy and looked gorgeous. It was spectacular and chooks was careful since we had precious cargo: Baby nad Renu. It was a beautiful drive and luckily my duvet was there in the boot that they used. NZ is having bad weather and rumours of a coming Tsunami.
And thus, mom had called up to find out if i was OK. It was heartlessly cold and i decided to invite them outside in two of my jackets also in the boot. It was a Tornado-ish wind and both started running in the jacket and before we could reach the bridge, a small white monument that looked like something out of Saagar the movie in which Dimple showed her true self. These two wear shivering and thus tried running with the oversized jacket looking like small sheep and then finally we felt sorry.
We ran back to the car and bought some chips, cooked in Veg Oil not Beef Talo. I ensured that since Mcdonal had a huge backlash from the Jains of NYC. the jains in New York and the US are the second richest community after Jews.
There they were in raglan running on the slippery path and screaming and happy after $8 chips on their lap from the Chinese who looked half Maori but than due to NZ Sun Kiwi Chinese do look peculiarly brown.
Raglan is a healing place for Maoris and the black sand beach combined with Stella's weed smoking that makes her kidnapped by Alieans. notice how aliens only kidnap the maddest human beings for anal inspection.
But the weather was suddenly clear and colder and the stars came out in a crisp night and Gaurav's Veg Makhanwala was great as was the rotis who cooked. Now gaurav may not be a lot of things but good cook he is. I had once tried butter chicken in a Maori household that had cute daughters and forgot to put cream and butter and burned their mouths and noses.
Gaurav cooking was great and the heater stopped B & R from shivering. Chooks and the ramavats loved eachother and we drove back late leaving them shivering. But if rumours are to be believed they enjoyed the trip but i still cant get over them shivering and screaming and running like ants in a bugs life.

Not tonight i have a heartache

2007-10-02T16:11:00.001-07:00

cause dark devils delight at the donkeytown hamilton
a slurp and it's all gone and steffi scores a match point
a painful joint that i wont drag nor i wont brag
a nightmare will slowly began and jordinian's will sleep
once before the thorns of the bush hit them too
before they hit back.

the cry of the afakasi

2007-09-29T22:59:00.001-07:00

a child runs on a oneway street in bombay to strangers thinking them parents turning home
an old bookshop in a hidden lodge away from the food stall in hawkers bay chandavarkar lane
a kid dragged over cow dung as mom works and a slow hatred makes him red hot in rains to kill
an ocean in her eyes in 1992 as she flees to LA a promise made to a dying uterus cancer tear drop
elvis hits anand in a big way murali returns from singapore bangkok sydney melbourne with rod
a singer is born ahead of a maroon curtain as jailhouse brings the house down from bad to goodboy]
a ring is lost and honesty established on bhagya nagar sands as cycles fly in an honour fight
garlic brings an aroma to a million pores in the room where grandad sung hymns to a jain god
the jain god is in 26th century first cousin to the buddha 25th tirthankar suching for nirvana
a tired photographer returns to two children and a wife half punjabi half gujarati believes love
a fast bowler breaks stumps on the wall with a red rubber ball whom does he hate where the power belong
a married woman finds love in his arms as they hold forever before they kiss and kiss forever before a spell
a black magician sends his black shirt packing as his reiki lover tells him after business collapses
an argentenian loves him with the tenacity of a scorpion woman but not more than emma. emma was his goddess
a parnell church comes tumbling down with ghosts anglican past pass on par with the tear he shed next week
the eden church knows his name and auckland and new zealand love and hate him as their own as waves tumble
northcote no no it was milford's madness to a dark grey ocean as moon burnt it with a white light
jamie promised him and christian gave him his word that may will be june too soon as empty houses
a book keeper sells him a book that he loves and a steffi that hit the ball in his court. he loves her
as marshes gave him strength in his legs and legs carried his poetry on the escalator on mom's b'day
the librarian loved him and he lost her as the bp petrol station caught fire in a tintin book black gold
winston did not want him year but symonds million ghosts sang his tune as steffi brought tears to columbus
it rains. it snows. it storms as he waits. neither here nor there. neither bombay nor wellington. she knows
she can see everything. decipher the space between words as he drops one ace and picks 11. bad boy
trees shine with grey melancholy as they find solace in black arms. his charishma came with a price
mom said he was born here only for her. he was of there. he hated his ilk not out of wannabe fever
out of being a stranger in every city and hearing poetry in every language and crying tears of many colours
he was not one of their own nor belonged to the ones he loved - who loved him as northshore softly bleeds today.

on a bright day

2007-08-31T19:07:00.001-07:00

Mrs Bhatia declared her stuttering son
spoke in a Kiwi accent proudly
I was sure it was South Auckland Otara mangere
with a dash of Hunter's Corner
I did not argue
After all, her son had joined the army
to spill his blood in a foreign land
a very kiwi thing to do!

clouds glamour poetry

2007-08-26T16:43:00.001-07:00

a small candle calls
in my mom's voice
St Francis is reassurance
a plethora of smiles
tasting head dips on silver blue eve
life's hot iron burning
my joints on a frozen night

what did you leave for witi today

2007-08-19T14:17:00.001-07:00

love war and acity called auckland
dark clouds bright clouds and a long white
a stranded love at a waterview bus-stop
a pacific curl of million sparks - a smile
a damp road filled with colgate
a country turning third world, my fault?
a kiss towards wellington...a cry for epsom
an ancient ancient history building
a warrior called buddha Billy's Cry Some
Tim Cahill or Seymore ... Hear less
2002
2003,
2004,

2005
and 2006

and the year of the goat

a city called Bombay and a country called India
a PDF file that goes to california or Portugal
a travel piece througn the bylanes of two whorehouses
cities coloured with paan
graphic books in hope of redemption
am I grumpy now that Caroline's gone
A graduate diploma that seeks my favourite poets and people
marshy legs sabreing perks
and that cunt from US of A

who died at your bust stop, last nights?

2007-08-18T18:32:00.001-07:00

evening filled night with rain
magical moments bleed again
metamorphosis of a ring story
acid falls from sky and blinker eyes

tiny spotlights an fable stars

2007-08-13T23:23:00.001-07:00

the nymph smiles and the sky turns lipstick strawberry red
the golden star fills the grey winter with a solid splash of warmth
an old lab has a new new radiance
a glowworm smiles
a melody speaks
is it dove?

the death of abdul rehman sharif

2007-08-12T23:02:00.001-07:00

the bharat nagar sun at the government bandra colony goes down like
the sinbad and the eye of the tiger as french toasts fry and maasi sweats
the burning train was sterling express and br chopra a son of a bitch
the paper rockets rise and fall and this is the seventh death it could
have been the first the cancer sun hits the tropic of capricorn.
his specs and the colourful tee shirts he gave me came from dubai
and sameer is strong and the voice of indiana is strong and the koran
he did not believe in came to his aid in his death. he was my diary hero
as aunty prayed to her hindu jain god and ask him to leave as they would survive
a tear reached his open ceiling eyes that were open in coma for two days now
he loved his food and lived his life. now is gone & oh the difference to maasi.

distant burning parnell

2007-08-10T22:55:00.001-07:00

japan and her indonesian lover
onions on beach road
no panell not for me
jangles my jaded jewels
run up and down and round
and around
a lonely lopsided lamp burns

oh my concentration

2007-08-10T21:18:00.001-07:00

where do i get my concentration from
i stick to 700 poems
i can barely think straight and too fast
i can't survive anti histamines
and people swallow P.
Sherry is tall and chinese
my words and songs and books
drugged by sleep

Robs palace

2007-08-10T21:14:00.000-07:00

a milli000000n b00ks
and my missing hangers
the only cat I loved
Michelle suggested Ginsberg
but he sucks too many dongs
I prefer O hara having him confused with O Henry
I love leggot and frame and selina and avia
even baxter so what if he is fame
my hurting bones are testimony to my obvious dislike
for salsa
not latinos

somewhere in a dancing corner

2007-08-10T21:09:00.001-07:00

besides a cross tower
a grey and brown stoned
after a night drugged
by avil the antihistamines
and those bobs that brushed me
violently
and a music that still goes
in my head
india slaughtered england
and making my wuthering way
through Jane's pride
and tom fins scrapped in
twain
i pause even try to breathe
dettol is keeping me asleep
million thoughts and pauses
and magnet lillies
and little brocollis
and traces of pepperment tea
and your huge taupo breasts

climbing gilbert hill

2007-08-05T02:10:00.001-07:00

One tree hill
in andheri we can see as we pretend to play with lilliputs
I am a bit too kind as cousin utkarsh wants to hit them
the fruit salad was good and the batata wada i love
but brother ravi and me climbed gilbert tree hill
as the gravel shook and we nearly fell
but someone was saving us
as kamil pushed me on a wooden plank over a mined quarry
but balance and i was saved
a string of i was saved
sudha maasi saved me from drowning
and everytime i jumped i was saved

The cobbler

2007-08-05T02:07:00.001-07:00

on a cross street in Bombay heat stitches with his waxed threads
our football is torn and Stanley does not want to go to ashoka sports
we wait and haggle
as his child is crying in the ragged tent
swinging from a rusted nail in the wall
the shop next door sells illicit country-made liquor
and stinks to timbuktoo
my grandpa is going to the temple in his cream silk dhoti
i often come here as my slippers are always broken
and the waste paper basket shop next to udipi restaurant
sells cricketing pictures of barry richards in colour
juhu lane is alive with small toy inside peppermint packs
the green and pink thing moves as you whistle
dimple must be 5 and i am 8
a decade yet to meet though i spend my days at krsna
near the well where i fell in love with her
but that was 85 this is abba era not michael jackson's beat it
i can barely sing its hot in bombay

What is Colonisation?

2007-07-31T22:24:00.001-07:00

Colonisation is a clear division between two groups of people. When one set of
people are 'rulers' and other set is the one that does menial work. if you open
your eyes and see that it is only one class that is doing the menial work as in
the6y have actually been imported to do the menial work like cleaning toilets
and doing labour and yet are stereotyped as doll-mongers and fat lazy peoplw
and then it extends to another race that is also an immigrant race. Let's take
an asian example: Chinese. When this ruling class charges five times the fee
amount to this new people and yet blame them for getting the education
standards down. When suddenly a Samoan man is stereotyped as rapist and indians
as molesteors and media pictures ugly-cised as was done in a doctor's case who
was a good looking innocent dude in Australia and his hand drawn image
extremely ugly. That is racism.
But racism can work in subtle ways by an overzealous white girl being too PC and
thus condescending and just going all out and saying all Islanders are good all
whites are bad. That makes the whole argument a little less logical and a
little more ridiculuous and in the end a bunch a racist people will laugh at
this argument. Thus, a PC protestor has done more harm than good.
Colonisation is divide and rule when Samoans hate Tongans and Tobgans Niuiens
and Maoris Indiands and Indians Chinese.
When engineers work at petrol pum stations and airplan wings fall out. When
suddenly all Indians are wife beaters and all Samoans are child abusers and at
the same time the indian mind is eulogised and Samoan smile and Maori heart is
eulogised. In a country where there is a certain unity in one colour so much so
that if you are on a motorway and there is a cop they warn each others by
flashing lights, How on earth will a new immigrant ever have a chance when a
man named Winston Peters is more against Asians than Pakehas?
Colonisation is when one of the ruling party realise that you are going to
complain against one of 'them' and you lose credibilty. Suddenly from being a
bright star you become an extreme guy who tells the truth. Too intense isn't
it? The truth. The Chinese are giving us drugs but who is using it the most?
I should know about racism we invented the caste system and we invented the
lower classes but the clear demarkation was not colour of the skin so who would
know racism more than me.
But then hey, I am just the guy who does not get along with anyone so what
credibilty does my voice have. I am like the Hawaiins who are not allowed to
camp (LITTER) on the beach in their own country, since it is against the law. I
am a second language speaker who is taught grammar by insecure impotent
60-year-old just because I am a threar and he has hots for a 30-year-old and i
kick his ass in public forum. So what do i become? I become the loud-mouth
Indian who would kill his wife who whores around. I become a guy who likes
woman. the heterosexual mad bastard who is going against biology. It is
inappropriate for a man to like women especially if it gives old farts a shit
in their pants. i am the dangerous guy who speaks the truth. Somebody warn uni
depts. This man is trouble. political Insane animals...who does not view the
natives as a species that is both cute like gulliver's lilliputs and incestous,
carnivarous human eating animals. sorry I call spade a spade. And you can take
me to the Principal or god. But this is my definition of a colony unless we are
talking about colony of ants and then it would be slightly different. I do like
wordsworth though.

the arts class is warm

2007-07-29T19:59:00.001-07:00

since
ann's here

and then

2007-07-29T19:53:00.001-07:00

it rains
r
a
i
n
s

a
n
d

and the cows are wet
and the crows are wet and
the gulls are wet
don't forget the girls...they too
and the lovers are wet
and the political creatures are wet
and polite pc personnel are wet
immigrants are wet
and shivering
having arrived from warmer climes

shadows on a sunny day

2007-07-29T17:33:00.001-07:00

dark crimes hide in bright corners
in book shelves and classics
in toast and jam and world war poets
in tibetan alaska and tintin's tiffin box
sylvia is right look closely at any bright object
and you can see no light
no sound muffled by no sound
jane has destroyed the little pieces of chalk on queen street
construction begins
destruction eminent

someone's gotta laugh loudly

2007-07-29T17:17:00.001-07:00

I am shy
not a part of glitteratti nor glamouratti
my poems did not see the light of the eve for many years
i write to release and blueskyfox has gone too far
and google with 39 finds
i am already too stretched
bad boy in school
that's him...
i will just sit in a corner like silas

and write
destress
distress

bombay pigeons

2007-07-28T23:08:00.001-07:00

one ebery roof top and millions struggle
as kites fill the skies in winter
jan 14 and chikkis come out with glass beaded
strings to cut off the patangs
pink blue maroon and red squirrels jump
tiles and monkeys attack but that is ahmedabad
the drums will play and loud music loud loud loud music feels
the air
and animals run and humans run.

10p for fried mung dal

2007-07-28T23:01:00.001-07:00

The grey cement terraces of gwalior above the dark storage of wheat granary
as last afternoon pikkoo cried for oh-so-sweet porridge and we left for Lashkar
where the lassi glass was a litre tall and tempos three wheeler rickshaws
black and yellow that pappu road died of drinking too much on gwalior fort
with southern architecture on temples. yes mung dal in a small store aesbestos
sheet and blue wall was my pocket money for the day and I was five. it bought
peppermints and grams and bhel and sev puris and a host of things that we had
on green forms that belonged to my mom. shankar is now a truck driver and knows
how to show us a good time. he worked in his teenage years and is quite a man
that pikkoo wasn't.

new delhi

2007-07-28T22:43:00.001-07:00

new delhi

as the capital and the red fort and the jantar mantar
and the gandhi's loin clothed khadi hats and folded hands
to akbar's makbara and the distant taj dirty with pollution
and jamuna where moon bounced and lovers wanted to go beyond
the universe like the pacifika guided by the stars

new delhi

polite and the muslim joints on the street the paratha galli
and the spicy mutton and the chick pea kari and the smoke from oil
and ghee the clarified butter.

new delhi

the uinion jack is down and india awakens at midnight and sleeps
and glass bulletproofed against pakistan and planes circle like
the jain temple planes that throw coins lucky holy coins
and yellow flowere - no not daffodils - actually may be daffodils

new delhi
PC and believes in its own propoganda with punjabi women with mammoth boons
as insurgency and rape on the rise. nepalis pakistanis bangladeshis but indians

new delhi believes in its own propoganda believes in its own shit
believes in its own glory while bombay toils taxes like tigers on a warpath
Delhi is the capoital and everyone's uncle knows Indira Gandhi
and everyone's uncle is a war hero. Everyone's uncle hates bollywood in bombay

a conoe that sunk the empire

2007-07-25T23:53:00.001-07:00

the natives were studied by the anthropologists
blood read from their tattoos
but grace cannot stand the witty albert and with a four friend
at sun and sand the empire sunk and sun set

Ways of Knowing

2007-07-25T23:51:00.001-07:00

Ways of Knowing
a leaf
falls
somewhere
before trees
go and desert's rise
like shampoo in a bangkok whorehouse

how did i know?

at a 1993 tea shop that did not accept
the new silver rupee to call her dad` after a few dozen kisses
on my dark mezanine floor and the brown train in a brown country
with brown sands rising.

I waited outside her singing lessons in Karnatik music
outside the Shreenathjee temple
under the yellow orange mercury lamp
outside the Bollywood God's apartment
she did not come as sages chased me
next night before she flew to California

death chased me as i sweated on the cotton duvet
and the polyester comforter and floral bedsheet
ran to Jelly's hid behind her skirt but death caught up as i
opened Uncle's drawers and showed Mr. Death her picture with a baby boy

"that is not you. that is someone else." she married two years later
but i knew as every dream i analysed told me a story

3 men in a boat

2007-07-25T18:50:00.001-07:00

Satan is summoned and wordworth waves at wellingtonians
I am afraid
there are slight hisses
giggles
as I speak. i sip a happy coffee
hold on to language
language is not bad
as tongan waters rise indirectly
native flowers sing daffodil in an imperial accent
hibiscus washes ashore with cocoil
who are we
inclusive or exclusive
avia's glossary is picture perfect
four took a canoe to break the brittanica waves
as lucy poems cry for irene
words words words worth million pesos
in chile
a colony of friends

earth storm water sunshine

2007-07-11T23:05:00.001-07:00

fortress arabic sands
hair whispering breeze
indian pot colour cracks
million shades ebony ivory
slights sensitive laser blades
smile haunted wounded souls a hotel
that revolves Alaska's warm winter seal
trapped in your beautiful pictures famous
mathematician with a soul searching eye that
sees volcanoes buried inside and damages a man
grieves you smile you shine fishing for a lampshade
a mermaid. a revolving post card that sings a northcote
song light on two lonesome beds...mirror on an afternoon sun
nemo in a trawler with a cotton ice khakhi at helms solving crink
-les I like saying sorries and thanyous for tenminute song breaks
moving ice and water and pics orange melbourne new carolina's sun
empty hotel rooms afternoon suns...red italian mailbox kumsumnidas your
hair glares at the evening sun and red buildings shiver in comparision
dark is feel a delphi yeah! green is the trapped grass outside hotel california
she has a dream this girl arithmatic alteration allures the green fish
you are ready you tell me but it has been a tiresome life and the NSW miners
dance in rains like aztecs and incas and farmers from gujurat after 40c resigns
I walk cold rains and watch saffron kiss shortland street and fructus shine like
a northern wave on shakespeare beach.

wine rains auckland digger feet

2007-07-05T01:57:00.001-07:00

ymca yawns at maia...scotia shines under a greeny palm
dig drag dunking orange splashed on muddy holes
red bus red bus red bus fills the asb streets jumping into
a midnight hue...dark over art and war memories black cries
an anthem emotion head bangers cock n skull
you ran from this very street on to whang's waterfalls
as summer rains beat bombay streets and storms strot samoan souls
winter rim zim sim sham cries stray travellers and naked streets

then there are those nights

2007-07-05T00:58:00.001-07:00

those dark evenings
as I run
from my house
on to the midnight street
at seven pm and
I run to a world
that I do not know
an empty shell
auckland has become
i hold back my tears
since I heard your voice
and you smiled
that hollow crabshell smile
Rangatito
is darker tonight
waves rise and tears subside
sands are cold at warkworth
do you cry as the lamp dies
and the word enlarges and loses focus
as you try to read from a wet book
do you cry...emma do you cry
the black soot rises and i may be in love
but I am not a fool
it's four years
you are a big girl.

Choir choir rainy nights

2007-07-04T02:11:00.001-07:00

Choir choir rainy nights

white church at Pitt st
niether manurewa mormon nor otara christian
sprung to sing a 1567 tune to perfection
as if ancient England had just arrived out of dark ages
the culture is there. the culture was always there
so why despair?

the aaa eee aaa keeps my thoughts away from the sa girl
and the maori girl singing tenors
i am lost in music and can hardly read the small print in the bible

but the door said all welcome and rob 's genuine smile
made up for the cold that heaters could not counter strike
the chandeliers dance like a hawaaiin girl shake shake shake
a dancing PI...four clover chandelier and the small brown bibles
that I can't read...
must surrender to specs
7 minutes and storms rains and stars

so i can see the specks and trifles and atoms and ants
the wood is 100 years old and the chinese sing hymns on the ground floor
the music still rings true as does the warmth in the white hearts

Bulsar Ancient Building

2007-07-03T21:10:00.001-07:00

in the ancient brown cream yellow building in a small lane with cobble stones
the hoofs of the horse-carriages with an oil lamp in Victorias as night darks
the temples and the graveyards and movie theatre of an artist that made fish
without water and thunder without dance...ayurvedic shops and cows doing cow
things on the streets before three wheeler autorickshaw came when 10p would
buy roasted lentils and boiled chickpeas with green chillies and salt and lime
in the ancient house joint families stay and through a small window I can see
a lady having her bath on the terrace. it was not lust but a sense of forbidden
joy of accessible kept me in that sunny room that had dust since not in use
a three story erect house with dark stairs as in an ancient castle's library
as i felt a tug at my my collar was I reading a ghost comic book another a tug
i sweat. i freeze. i dare not look. my little cousing is biting my collar
took me a few hours to realise this.

KM 4 JP Anand picnic

2007-07-03T20:09:00.001-07:00

where did i get an axe from
why would someone sell me an axe
i owned a steel nan chaku
and it was a craze of the 36 chambers of shaolin
but did I buy it from a woodcutter i do not know

but the 14 year olds intoxicated by Hardy boys
and after facing a thorough interogation from Mrs iyer left
early morning for a hike

the pond was once a lake a brook a raging monsoon river
in the biggest jungle that Bombay has National Park
filled to the brim with foxes and panthers
early blue morning saw the ancient tribe of encroachers washing their clothes
in the summer pond

Those were bloody days for me as kidney stone kept urine red
but i had planned this adventure and we returned safe
after the train ride and teasing monkeys in the cage

and stealing dum aloo that mohan had created
it was a work of art and the iyers were big readers
but the railroad track was
burning the winds

was once the children rail road in waitakere kind train

and bollywood made most of it and tickets were always sold and we always there
on monday

when it was closed and i denounced it and wanted to keep the the picnic a hike

wild but some others jumped into the train
the iron tracks that we had walked and burned our skins
and summer had just begun
and cicadas made their sounds

grasshoppers and snake trails and caves that the train went through
but it was hot

and the tracks were red Iron turned red
and the dum aloo robbery that we indulged in
was not forgiven for three years

KMs tattooo awob

2007-07-03T19:50:00.001-07:00

it's afternoon at Vasai fort with an old old cathedral that has portuguese
and fish eaten with chillie and garlic chutney and bombay aloo
potatoes in tumeric and mustard and oil with our Indian naan's
first cousin and ants on ant's hill and fisherfolks with salt in their
history and hair and smile and andrew and mathias asking us is a woman
eating a bright yellow flavoured curry fish with rice says "Jevaylaa yaa!"
Come into eat...
The afternoon sun on the outskirts of the protected black stone church smiles
but the heat is too hard saved by promises of a rain that lashes bombay every
now and then...
the ice candy for 10p now costs 2 rupees but cools our brown skin
Gretchan was there....a million miles into Sachin's heart and reshma
in talks to Karla caves in Lonavala
I told you in blue sky fox. I told you
in travel click clock
that fisherfolks the world over have an uncanny similiarity
as the well has women who bathe and iyer sees a black triangle
and Gretch is angree but boys will be boys...indian summers
keep us burning deep brown red

Reading KM in the sunshine

2007-07-03T19:42:00.001-07:00

there is an absolute sunlight pervading the st andrews church as an old man with
a pipe basks in the sunlight to read a book. can i chance sleeping on the grass
to read Km in the seaming yellow day day topped with a light blue without a hair
of white.
can i chance
i return to tubelight
lifewriting exercises are a pain
let me aquaint with km again
a brown label and a sparkling aura
sensitive words and bruises in a tongan hibiscus filled
field that smiles to an open sea opening itself to the air
of the pirates
as sunshine bleeds and i reed the first poem under the tubelight
of HSBC. It's raining outside. It's shining inside

Karlo Mila: What a name - Dream Fish Floating

2007-07-03T16:28:00.001-07:00

a book that starts thanking Selina (an original copy in ink) for her
inspiration. Selina is a healing energy and recognises energies in other
people. But then let's get to KM> This woman has guts. her first line from the
first poem says ORAL SEX. Can you believe that. 'For Sia Figel' has sexual
language that seems puritan. Flower that opens to beautiful sentences.

First Book from Mars

2007-07-03T16:12:00.001-07:00

It has islands and conch shells
and broken promises and simple
women weaving baskets and singing songs
and palm trees and skies and earth and moon
75 onwards mind you
and then the pacifika words come in
and curling up
1975 - 1999 got denser and greener
as the sdun rolled off the islands
The islands are sinking as the Bush
loads a new texan gun

Dear Selina

2007-06-27T00:15:00.001-07:00

What is brown 720?

brown 720 is my blog and in fact the class blog where I will save my notes and observations. One can write into Brown 720 simply by emailing to suneal.varma.b720@blogger.com. this is my dedication to all Samoan and Maori people I came across in my stint in NZ starting from the guy who picked me from the motorway when I wsa walking on it on my second day here. He said he was from Sa' to Tusiata to Eddy and Milise and Selina and the Fafafine who was hit by his sa' lover and the gay poet kicked in Sydney and the cute Samoan girl in the Burger King window and all Christians and Mormons and all the people who made me feel at home including all the Pakehas and Americans that have a Moari heart and Islander smile. I will store my notes and my poems here. You may click on http://brown720.blogspot.com/ and by the way thank you.

Why am I here?

2007-06-26T23:47:00.000-07:00

To answer that question i would have to introduce myself. I am Suneal Varma and I appreciate Thaman's poetry that was of course, rejected by Auckland University Press. I used to write like this between 1980 to 2004 when I met Tusiata Avia. My previous poetry which is beautiful and i enjoy writing much more now. so how can I justify Avia's changes and Thaman's right to be published at the same time.
Well, we will have to go back to poetry. Michele confirms that poetry is anything that makes the adrenalin go. I totally agree with that. Thus, I believe that any poetry that talks about indigenous people because of the need for icons and role models must get a fair chance to be published. My poems that changed since the advent of the first creative course under Tusiata Avia is under the avia section of www.blueskyfox.com. And Tusiata changed the way I wrote poetry forever. But poetry publishing may have a strong bias by a mono-culturistic outlook of publishers and i am more than happy to change from my junk poems also on my website to my modern poems but to force Thaman to follow suit would be saying 'Don't do this, Do this' in a colonial tone.

What is Brown 720?

2007-06-26T23:24:00.000-07:00

Brown 720 is a forum for pacific writers and I did feel a little sorry for my Fijian Indian brothers whom no one seems to acknowledge...neither Indians like me nor other PIs. But I am pleased to be here. And I will suggest to Selina to put Namaste into the list of greetings and i will search for a Fijian Indian poet in English. this is my way of doing justice to the oceanic people...each and everyone of them.

2005-12-25T00:59:00.000-08:00

2005-12-14T23:32:00.000-08:00