Warning: Irony And Others Ahead
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dearest readers online
be forewarned
when you read a poem
there may be irony ahead
and if you don’t look out
yes, it can be like you’ve
run against an iron pole
smack bang against the forehead
(which may not matter if you’re Ironhead â€"
but if you’re anything like me
flesh and blood and heart â€"
Ouch! It can more than hurt!)
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be forewarned also
when you read a poem
it can be like
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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one day at school, Korea (1801)
I don’t like school, Sir
most venerable teacher;
and though you are kind, Sir
and all my classmates too
and you all help me study and learn
like you make me know
the first five characters in the alphabet
but the moment I am out of school
all I can remember
are the rice-cakes and sweets and the dumplings my mother makes
and true, Sir
most venerable teacher
you teach me the numbers
and I can count from 1 to 5
when I am in class
but when I’m out
I love the toys my father brings
and I play with the wooden toy soldiers
and I love the ducks and the clay horses;
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Donkey, Dog and Master – a very gentle fable
Come, listen all -
listen to a very gentle fable
Of Donkey, Dog and Man
and the friendship
amongst these three
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Donkey and Dog are loyal servants;
they’ve served the same master
all their lives
It’s night now and
Donkey and Dog sleep
in the courtyard
while Master
snores in the house
A thief sneaks in
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Please, O God of Humor
Please, O God of Humor, give me the gift of being funny
naturally funny
so I can produce poetry and verse that tickles
and makes readers laugh so much their coins roll out of their wallets;
and let the children roll on the floor when my poems are recited;
for indeed my humor is the worst online by any standard
(or lack of standard)
for when I publish poems meant to be funny
my readers never understand me
and what I thought funny, they think tragic
and what I thought was tickle-tickle material
they find pathetic and practically laughable;
I am lectured to or consoled by readers
when I attempt humor;
I am sent e-mails and spam of advice
and words of caution when I attempt to be witty;
and my 113th poem
on the funny side of social networking
brought sympathy and pity for my lack of friends
but no appreciation for what I thought was funny;
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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Rainbow Snake
This story of the Rainbow Serpent is an Australian aboriginal legend and I have re-told it, with the best of intentions, for an international audience. I may have made some changes to the story and I hope my re-telling is true to the spirit of the original versions.
the rainbow snake
see it tickles
the frogs
and water fills the rivers and gullies
and waterholes;
and see the rainbow snake
see it brings forth
all life sleeping before
it is the beginning
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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It’s No Fun Going To The Toilet
it’s no fun, dearest friends,
going to the toilet
with your entrails full
and at zero hour
and rushing to the toilet
and finding every cubicle shut in your face
and you run to the next
and there are grunting pigs
behind closed doors
and you are truly full,
and you know you are in big trouble
and there is not even a discreet bush corner
in the god-forsaken damned city;
and you are walking up and down outside the doors
like an irate Principal at a school assembly;
it’s really no fun
putting yourself through such agony
to put yourself on such public display
going to public toilets
when you could have cleared all
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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where did I park my car?
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where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before
had a coffee at the center
caught up with some friends
watched a movie
and bought some stuff for home
and now I can’t find my car
though I’ve searched past 10 minutes
where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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A Snail Goes To Heaven (A One-Act Tragicomedy)
Bare stage. A square neon sign on extreme right which reads: “This way to Heaven”.
Prolonged silence. Enter Snail, moving very slowly throughout the play.
Snail:
I’m a dead snail.
I’m going to Heaven.
I’ve lived for 15 years.
That’s a ripe old age.
I’ve been blessed.
Had a marvellous sex life, you know.
Well, if you know snails
we attract a mate with our slime.
Oh, slime turns me on, baby.
(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)
Well, maybe I should focus on holy thoughts.
Purity...refined thoughts...you know...
Snail God does not like sex.
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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On The Poet And Poetry: The Complete Text
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Shakespeare and Kalidas and Homer
had no need to flaunt qualifications
so don’t trumpet too much of yours
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in this kingdom
where one writes
there is no seniority, each is equal
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it is not important to be a poet;
the thing is to bring the poetry
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Man And Woman: A History
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a man is frothing history
a woman is the coalescing undying past;
and together rolling as the beast with two backs
from murky undefined time
they roll further into the cloudy distance
each brings in memories
and traditions and nuances
and each comes with a constitution;
each comes conditioned
each manufactured in the same factory, and both struggle
and there is just whingeing all their lives
a man is labeled
a woman is branded
and they are manufactured in sperm factories
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poem by Raj Arumugam
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