Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Death hides in the body

but who sees? 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 care?

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

--R.K. Singh

Tuesday, July 3, 2012


Their minds
hallowed in the borrowed sun
joyous in hate
celebrate emptiness
of the pimp's asshole