Fast Bowler

Brown, dirty, muddy, Indian.
pickle, poetry, spices, curry, cricket,
idling, Vedas, Koran, Gita, Bible,
Bollywood and Garlic Chilli Chutney”,
he said. The Pakistani. The Indian.

5000 years of corruption
hate I am a an assassin,
break the ball and the wall

rubber ball the weapon. I run on
my broken knee. Fervour. Anger. I run

Kanti at mid on. Mickey forward
short leg. Ravi gulley. Jigu wickets
Jack dropped a catch. I scream
“MadarChod” Mother Fucker.

Pintu experiments. match gets closer
Adrenalin and anger.
grasp ferocious. Stray Tiger
Blood pumping. Their back is broken.

hattrick sweat in eyes. brow the loins
and crotch. love cricket.
the anguish, the pain, the poetry

Paul white the bastard

he’s insecure. unreal. an old fart. typical
teacher of New Zealand. Afraid Brafeild is
better than him. afraid life has past him.
takes his frustrations and throws them on

people trying to play catch. he is sarcastic.
he is trying to impress the blond bimbo sitting
next to the gray window. smiling. telling him he’s
a god. he’s a rat. impotent piece of crap.

he knows it. She knows it. She knows he knows it
alas he has no idea she knows what he knows.
she knows he’s an old fool and knows he knows it
he’s blinded by his temporary glory. fed by shit.

Psychotic tai chi

Screaming. She took the spanish phone
Oh God, another wrong number leave me
alone. It is mine I said. Hi Emilya

She screamed. I want to marry her.
I can’t keep my phone on the ear.
I asked her gently if she was mad.

Oh Hell and damnation broke loose
She shouted at Chris and shouted at
me. And woke up the whole wild west.

She is crazy. Hatez me cause I can
study in NZ. And unlike her has no
visiting visa to suffer and nag and pay

And lie. I have a PR. I hate her. She
screams. I feel she’s gone mad. Chris
is kind. Drops me to the city. knows

He how ugly she is within the shiny skin
she’s a disease. a nagging machine. a pain
in the rear. A piece of stink mouth shit.

I feel the city air waiting for me. free
where it will let be me. Me.