in the East they say

''KARISHMA....’’...MAGIC

ASK A CERTAIN POET HERE,
YES, KAILASHNA
to confirm

But I call it the nuance of
TIME
unforgotten
and
the scourges unlimited
undefined
not for you or none
but for all and any
YET, EVERYONE

it will...
w o r k

I degrade my once passable looks
falling into ruin My face etched with
fissures that do not compliment
my teeth removed by wear and pressure
and not from a good scrap
turning slowly to a din colour
My beard filling with the winter white
of age..And still I spend hours taking
them out one at a time!! The west
coast natives plucked each others beards
out with clam shells between their fingers
a time for talking and grooming
when not hunting or spending time with
the wife or kids or concubines

my mind is stripped of its thoughts by drugs
and booze.. the sweet wreckage of the
party that never ended till late
and yet I still have the fiery dedication to studying
life and nature that I had when I was just
a teen with car keys in my pocket
and eight track of good song and the woman
at my side

One day if I last and be so lucky I will wear diapers
once again and drool... I remember visiting the
old folk homes..the poor ones and the horror there
The once proud man walking with no underwear
on and no mind..the pools of urine and those
locked into their chairs and wheelchairs watching
the parade of madness go about

I remember the "retirement" home that looked
like a victorian haunted house
the roofline like a broken spine with tilted
lightning rods and windows from the twenties

I was in hospital once from a drunk incident and
listened and watch as a man died of cancer
his wife doting and wonderful and the family
badgering him to tears to change his will
and cut the wife out of it.. the window was open
and he cried from the cold and the wind blew
his white hair all over...I combed his hair
as this bothered me for some reason..He was
a big contractor up here in the city and I just
knew that he would have kept it straightened up
strange too how my step daughter trims my
hair and keeps on me about these details too
now.. Karma is the little pail we have when
life sinks and we are on the last voyage
in our little raft of wonder... its only the storms
that we fight and bail like hell
alive in the moment the futility and exhilaration

Love this poem I have felt this
I have seen this

Thank You

i think everyone has felt this at some point in their life, and most fail to write about it well. i am glad to say that you are not one of those; very well penned.
always,
mag

I was drawn to this poem by the title. I delivered quite a punch, though not entirely in the direction I was expecting.
I don't really know who the lesser god is. Might it be the persona, or his accusers (my first thought)?

I loved the last lines:

I fear the pain
tomorrow will bring
again.

Very powerful, and quite odd, that tomorrow will bring the pain "again". That's some good language there, in my opinion.

I think some background will make it better understood. :)