the last sin
  pale ashen sky
a bleary eye
clouds of recurring screams...
i am a zoo
  an octopus leviathan
tentacles into an ocean
of unformed emotions...
syphilis and love  
  syphilitic pall
stifles the clear blue
i contort...
 
shell and pearl
  amidst highs and lows
in life's ocean flows
a shell peony-mouthed...
 
i am an unmarried mother
 
  fed on stings
of barbed milk morality
my child-plankton...
 
the lovers
  cell upon cell
bridge of their union
hung on the pillars...
rebirth
  ogre of age
and time cavil
at a warm picture...
the young today
  innocence thaws
at the altar
of ambition...
 

waters live: in verse

three sixty degree quadraphonic sound
blaring helicopter and lunchtime siren
clusters of black balloons
thirty thousand fans sporting attitude
inhaling dust of palace grounds
april thirteen zero two remember the date
wiping pigmy “mtv, enjoy!” out of significance
the lunatic is on the grass
lighter flames in a cultic show of brotherhood
strobes beams animated psychedelia
liquid phantasmagoric visions
a pig with wings and menacing frown
atom heart mother with udders
onshore oil rig being blown to smithereens
it all makes perfect sense

who says it was music?
a trip to the dark side of the moon
city pubs had set the tone
from nasa to 180 proof
it was comfortably numb
all the way who cares for food?
when the legend arrives in the flesh
like the piper at the gates of dawn
even though decades late
acolytes queue up bearing primitive conditions
and digitised entry
for the experience of being there
hey you would you give it up for anything

who says it was music?
it was waters almost sixty in iconic black
with jelled hair tall athletic gait
in an english way
“thank you, it’s our first gig in India”
set the control for the heart of the sun
crying out for the fellow journeyman
who reached for the moon too soon
shine on you crazy diamond
barrett now a paunchy balding
gardener in cambridge in a world of his own
wish you were here
amidst baby boomers and thirty something
pinkheads who rocked with classic rock
and listened in silence and with reverence
to waters strumming his guitar pouring poetry
and protest

who says it was music?
it was education minus the stuffing
hey teacher leave the kids alone
your thoughts are chasms in the classroom
it was anti-war protest
bring the boys back home
it was voice against violence
jews and arabs why must you bleed
war games on television make a good picture
but make monkeys out of us
the species had amused itself to death
it was a cry against dehumanisation
welcome to the machine
it was a longing for lost childhood
mother should i run for president?
it was not another brick in the wall
it was a visit to the temple of rock

and when waters belted his unreleased number
flickering flame as a parting gift
hope got a new life
it’s a miracle
and it could only happen in bangalore.

(15 April 2002)