Thursday 21 November 2013

Le Movie Terrible

My friends took me to watch Insidious Two
A movie they told me would be fun
I can honestly say, having experienced it,
A more clichéd movie, there is none

Over acting and long pauses galore
They dragged along a nonexistent plot
All the way to an end which was
Even more ridiculous than I originally thought

Every door in the movie seemed to be creaking
And most opened of their own volition
For a moment, they build up some semblance of story
The next hour, it descends into a farcical demolition

A scary voiced kid, a truant mother
A victim wife and her significant other
Characters from every bad movie ever made
No originality in these "directors" plying their trade

The one scary scene in the whole movie
Was in the trailer when an ugly woman cried
The rest of the night I was on the floor laughing
To me, it was the day horror died

Hitchcock must be turning in his grave
To see such abhorrences be applauded
The field of artistic horror is ruined
The honor of past movies maurauded

I walked out of the hall disappointed
I had foolishly hoped for atleast some fun
But all I got was ripped off scenes
That remain eternally overdone

I turn as ever, for relief in these times
To my everpresent master, and write her rhymes
For even at the eve of a day that was wasted
If I write a good rhyme, i have victory tasted

So tell me master, have I done thee proud
I ask thee solemnly, head bowed
Should I be happy or sad about today
Your reply shall return my frown or send it forever away

Monday 18 November 2013

Victory

A single glance, frozen in time
Can inspire a glorious rhyme
A poet does eternally strive
Such inspiration to thus contrive

And when the elders of the gentle race
Thus adorn him with this grace
Who possesses the strength to ignore”
His Master’s rousing, beckoning roar

Their battle cry pierces his heart
Their omniscient glare a poisoned dart
Onwards, they drive him with his sword
Consisting solely of the poetic word

In the midst of Xerxes’s Army
Leonidas did stand mighty strong
And in the end the braver men
Left the field with victory songs

And so the poet set upon
A foe much greater than he
He would perish but wouldn’t dare
Defy his Master’s will and flee

They came with almighty drums
And waves of writhing, marching men
And we held them off, using well
The power of his ball point pen

The foes withered and fell away
The power of words held their sway
None would ever question again
The majesty of a poet’s reign

Defeat

Discourse on philosophies
And fanciful tirades
The impression at first is dynamite
But with time that too fades

Surrounded by walls of legends
They gaze down, disappointed
At their so called follower
Who hath himself thus anointed

The follower sits, head lowly bowed
Ashamed of his cowardly posing
Courage, which nature so sparsely endowed
In him did not deign transposing

Mighty words, empty of deeds
His life’s tales do describe
The lord has his jokes and on this man
He aimeth his cruelest jibe

Still he fights on in his own small way
By force of habit, not from courage
He deserveth not his goodly friends
Who form his vital entourage

The wall gods do spite him
As much as he them loves
He lacks the iron fist needed
Beneath the silken glove

He striveth hard to do them good
Some justice of primitive form
But fail he does, time and again
Unable to weather the storm

For a storm it is that batters his senses
A relentless wave of assaults
And resilience, or its lack thereof
He knows to be his prime fault

Down he falls, in front of his Gods,
Lay prone, never to rise
The man who never finds his feet
Can never hope to claim the prize

John Lennon, Jim Morrison
Jimmy Page and Kurt Cobain
Scoff at this weakling’s incompetence
To withstand the littlest of pain

“What Soldier art thou?” They ask him,
“To thus defile our name
We need fighters of fearless countenance
Not mice, meek and tame

And here lieth thou, weak wimp of a man
Cowering in the face of mere numbers
Stand up and fight, uncouth being!
Lest we put you to eternal slumber”

But try as he might
He could not fight
The charge of the Light Brigade

And so in hell
At the toil of the bell
With deserters he was laid

Questions

Standing amidst chaos
Alone in a crowd
The noise does my discomfiture
In darkness shroud

All revel in dance and rhythm
None pay a mind
To the lonely giant
Abomination to mankind

Lights flash in a dizzy haze
I watch on in dull amaze
As one and all sway united

The beat smites my very core
Sweat drips from every pore
But no spark in me is ignited

But am I right and they wrong
Or is the opposite true
Am I so thick skinned that
Their wondrous beat permeates not through?

Or is it that my life’s meaning
Does not in this world find its place
Do I find true happiness
In morbidity’s menacing face

Do I need the grisly truth
Thrust in front of my blank eyes
Does the joy of the one
Depend on the other’s demise

As with all the queries I face
This question too has no answer
I tarry through life pondering
And my doubts spread like cancer

Yankee Doodle

Yankee Doodle went to town
Riding on a pony
He stuck a feather in his hat
And called it macaroni

Black man was picking cotton
And it caused him lots of pain
So he took his mom's advice
And dulled it with cocaine

Jewish people came to town
And money in they raked
Then a German joined the fun
And the Jews in ovens baked

Some Catholic priests came to town
And children they molested
The joke's on them, for the children
HIV positive tested

Some Mauzis came to town
And killed a few good men
I didn't join in their evil plan
'Cause I'm a good citizen

Some Americans came to town
In a land well oiled
But the Mauzis killed them infidels
And so their plans were foiled

Some Chinese people came to town
Their eyes looked like thin lines
But that was the least of our worries
For they devoured all the canines


Sunday 3 November 2013

Ode to Sohit

An amiable watchman awaits me
Though he lies in slumberous depths
His demeanor is always positive
And his job is to prevent thefts

A large man of twenty-four he is
Yet harmless as a baby seal
His rear end is so silky smooth
It adds to his sex appeal

Great writers have attempted to describe him
Dickens, and before him, Moses
But describing a Nepali man
Various difficulties poses

First of all they all look alike
You cannot tell girl from guy
And secondly, they have an innocence
That money just cannot buy

Their cooking stands a class apart
My palate it does enthrall
I only wish they didn’t go around
scratching their balls

They’re quick to catch melodies
On their strings of heavenly bliss
But they don’t receive hints so well
I practically begged him for a kiss

So if any day you need a guy
To make you feel just swell
Look for the watchman roaming the streets
Shouting “All is well, All is well.”

Friday 1 November 2013

Poem About Nothing

I wrote a new poem today
With nothing much to really say
I'm just filling up the page
To feel I've earned my daily wage

I now have written a paragraph
Without saying much at all
I hope with clever play on words
The audience's impatience to stall

You still keep reading even though
I tell you there's nothing to read below
This is the trick I try to master
At the risk of complete disaster

For if you haven't read this far
This poem I write has no cause
I write only to please myself
But i do crave your applause

Still you read, ah, lucky me!
You are of an angelic mind
To please you further I shall try
Another paragraph to grind

But wordplay too has its limits
I cannot write forever after
The applause you give so graciously
May soon turn to mocking laughter

But I'll take myself to the brink
With a cheeky grin and a sly wink
If there is even the faintest hope
Of you treading this slippery slope

For if I succeed, I have attained
That which genius never gained
Credit received for no work done
I guess that makes me a Kardashian