Albany , I must leave

Leave behind Wolf Road,
along I 87 onto the East,
Hear those Dutch retreads,
Your footsteps, nimble repeat,
Travelodge’s long corridor, echoed,
every oak leaf of your hum, relayed,
pine bushes your songs, murmured,
every purchase at colonie was beloved
At Barnes and Nobles, it was rave intellect,
sale at every window offered, as we parted,
Except love which cannot ever be discounted,
Darker fears kept regal emptied,
long quietude, so longingly intimate,
i really wish i stayed through this fate,
in reality, i have left and accepted it for good.

Troy, Bye


Must take leave of you.
The city state of Uncle Sam.
Beautiful Hudson , girders undone,
Bridges on one ways, now redone,
Darker humid sweaty clouds.
Driblets of storm warning.
Yielding diner home beyond a Walmart.
Unyielding ticket on Congress avenue.
A friendlier Court of Justice, awed.
A downtown so ebullient, a buffet.
I 90 CDTA must leave in morrow’s sorrow.
Lone ferry from Albany to Latham Farm
and RPI.
Miss the walk from Sage to College avenue
Past ancient wood villas now sudent dorms,
Past a busy student Union replete with Dutch wisdom,
By a SEFCU branch steps on runaways of Londoner bank years,
There is life here. I really cannot but go
But I must reluctantly, go.

In Helplessness

Why my friend did you target me?
All i did was buy a ticket,
on a theatre drama midnight,
to spend a few moments of happiness,
but in your cerebral imbalance,
you targeted me in stealth loss,
impervious to my kindness,
you arraigned against my helplessnes,
let loose a string of armoury flashes,
a volley of abused weapons,litters,
i watched in helplessnes,
nonreactive to your hatred,
not knowing why this fusillade?
of bitterness,
as i fall on to this floor,
all i can think of is why , why did you do this to me,
so love borne, so nonviolent, so affectionate,
all i wanted was to hear your greatness.
But before i heard all , you destroyed me.
Thereby , you destroyed yourself.
Together, may we now grieve?

Times Square Adrenalin

Ne’er a loner amidst cheering crowds,
Lost in migrant dream thoughts,
Them red, blue, amber, flashes lights,
Huddled steps on steps of fantasies,
Foot paths of nudging dvd sellers,
seeking recompense in stronger dollars,
gyrating bodies on panes un-abashed,
Topless citysights deliberate slowed
Crawling halt of blues left behind
Never a feel of recessed unemployment
Midnight stories ring round in neons
Onto the sky, an electric galleon
Heat, humid, deep feels of lightning
From emotional floods a scurrying

Lesson from Bankers

I was a banker once. Libor was then a sacred rate … we believed that conservative dark blue suited bankers in London stared at their computer screens; read the quotes on bid and offer and then advised the bankers’ association of the London rates… we then re-fixed all rates all over the world in alignment with the London bankers. So we looked to London from far Pacific to Indian to near Atlantic…and the Bank for International Settlement said that London was the centre with maximimum volumes of foreign exchange trades… we admired that this was on account of integrity of the professional London bankers…

All that myth collapsed this week with the Libor fixing fraud….

My idols have feet of clay…

Note:: London Inter Bank Offered Rate. The rate at which banks in London lend money to each other for the short-term in a particular currency. A new Libor rate is calculated every morning by financial data firm Thomson Reuters based on interest rates provided by members of the British Bankers Association


Your long silence agonizes me;
I sense a thousand feathered thoughts;
They pierce my heart; tear it asunder;
Splinter, fragile glass; fragmented , strewn, the footpath.
Still. Stutters, sputters, gasps, blood smattered on scared paves,
I hold wounds of longing folds of nostalgia,
Some Samurai soul: brandished sword held back in humiliation,
Of love ridden capitulation, fear of abject surrender,
Unrequited , undrawn ,unsure.
Trampled upon, torrid trapped, tired.
Swept- past the history of our association,
Now some trash, deleted file,
The calls of despair are but
perched on the twigs of hope.