Vile and Vicious

2009-03-17T20:22:00.000+05:30

All credit due elsewhere.

2009-02-02T18:38:00.004+05:30

Define 'Politically Incorrect'.

2009-02-01T03:09:00.001+05:30

You are advised to speak it out (of course, pronouncing every word properly).

Winsome body wonders why
And win day wander when -
Venn, does it make sense? -Yes it does.
Then wander yet again.

And wonder why, vile playing chords,
The King is what you knead
An' doll you get upon your fret
Is wart you hadn't keyed.

And what are you, and water my
Chrysanthemums and where
Verbose and Sterling, 'cause, you know
Chris and the mums were there.

And there Yule sea a Yuletide tree
Eye know you thought I new.
Watt, do you know where people go
And what were-people do?

And still, do pee pole-jump around?
End can they nought stent still?
Snot what they can or can outdo
But rather wart day will.

End with those vice wards, I should tick
My leaf an' die shoed go.
And Ass fur all I've shed, ice poke
A lot of crap, you know.

Nonsense Nonsense Nonsense (If you say it thrice, people believe you)

2008-12-14T21:37:00.010+05:30

It was a long and boring winter afternoon, I found

The sunlight seeped in through the broken windowpane, the ground

Was sparkling; Lying on the floor, a sleepy fly began to snore

And softly, slowly, somewhere near,

An insect whispered in my ear

And told me things that made me blush

The chocolate fudge-cake gooey mush

That gets me warm and fuzzy, I

Began to smile, began to sigh

Began to dream of rainbows and

The moonlight walks where, hand-in-hand

We'd giggle, kiss, and cootchie-coo

We'd do the things you'd want to do

If you were there with her; and she

Then crept beside me lovingly,

And kissed me on my cheek - I sighed

(I swear I think I nearly died)

But then her dad flew by my nose

He looked at me with one of those

Compound eyes he had, he frowned

And I lay writhing on the ground.

Since looks can kill, I guess I'm dead;

He looked at me, and frowned and said,

"BUZZBUZZ BUZZ!!!" I gasped, I shrieked

I yelled, I jumped, I froke, I freaked.

No honourable mammal would

Take this lying down: I stood.

I looked him in the nose, I frowned,

I bared my teeth, I turned around

I brought the kitchen knife, I stabbed

Erratically, her father grabbed

Me by my nose-hair, and he yanked;

He punched, he pounded, and he spanked

Me. And my darling, standing there

Upon the windowsill, her hair

Unkempt, her lace untied, her eyes

Were filled with tears (oh, when she cries,

Or cried – ‘cos filled with grief and woe

She slit her wrists, she stubbed her toe,

She hung herself, she stabbed her heart

She leaped before a bullock-cart

She broke her neck, she hacked her head –

I guess I’ve told you that she’s dead,

I don’t know how she died, but she

Clearly meant a lot to me.

I think I’ll go and go and cry.

But then again, I don’t know why).

Why is everything so still? So silent, still, the windowsill

Is gleaming, and my bed's so clean -

The pillows blue, the bedsheet green,

The pillow's green, the bedsheet's blue

And since I've nothing else to do

I look into the mirror and

I see myself, I wave my hand,

I wave my hand as well, I smile

I sit there smiling for a while

Then something happens, something clicks:

Reflection plays such dirty tricks -

The glass begins to sparkle, then

I see me smiling back, and when

I watch me watch me watch me see

Myself, I watch so carefully

I peer, I stare, I leer, I glare

I see me see me sitting there

But where is there? And where am I?

And who is who, and which is why

I look right back - I look to see

Me staring back quite pointlessly.

I'm quite confused, I can't make out

Exactly where I am, I doubt

I'm confident enough to state

Exactly which am I - I wait

I sit, and yawn, and roll my eyes

And then I take me by surprise:

I bang the mirror ‘gainst my head

And watch the bright and white and red

Shards of glass fall down with me

And everything’s been sorted, see?

And everything is as before

The mirror stands there by the door

And everything is as before

And I lie shattered on the floor.

2008-11-01T22:17:00.005+05:30

My Obituary.
How apt.

Go get yours at http://www.quizgalaxy.com

2008-09-27T20:45:00.003+05:30

Through my window, I can see

Through my window, I can see
A lonely little mango tree
A wilting flower, a rusty car
An old, abandoned factory
A yellow bird that's feeling blue
A rubber band, a leather shoe
A garbage can, a homeless man
A mangy cat that would not mew.

And through the window I can see
A curious boy stare back at me
He smiles, I smile; he frowns, I frown
It seems he's come from out of town:
His eyes are black, the town is grey
I'm pretty sure he's lost his way
He smiles again, again, I smile
We stand there smiling for a while,
And then he disappears, and though
He hadn't said a word, I know
That he'll be back - 'tis rather plain:
Reflections on a window pane.

2008-09-27T20:40:00.001+05:30

This was written a while ago. It isn't funny. It's rather trite but since I've given up feeling sorry for you, let's get straight to the rhyme.

A winter's night, a lonely tree
A frozen song, despondency
While cold winds blow, the supple bend
The rigid break, the strong transcend
And all achievement, all applause
On outspread branches, lie, because
We needs must cling, because you see
We're forming our identity.
As cold winds blow, achievements freeze
Like sparkling hoar-frost on the trees
But all it takes is one bright day
For all the frost to melt away.

2008-09-21T13:45:00.002+05:30

One day, for fun, I shot me dead
I put a bullet through my head
And drank some tea, and waited, sighed,
And then I yawned and slowly died.

I woke the next day and I found
My corpse was lying on the ground.
I quickly got up, ran downstairs
And there, on a pair of rickety chairs
Sat Mom and Dad – They looked so old
It’s time those blasted chairs were sold.

So there, la mère and père, they sat
Discussing this, dismissing that.
Dissecting eggs and butter and meat
And other things our parents eat.

“Mom, I’ve shot me in the head.”
“You haven’t cleaned your room,” she said,
“You never do. Have I not told
You a million times, when coffee’s cold,
Don’t drink it? Wait. I’ll go and heat
Another pot. You look so sweet!
Your bright pink shirt fits perfectly!
Your velvet pants they seem to be
So snug, aha! You like them too?
You think I should have bought a blue
Pair as well? Well, never mind;
Some other day. You know, I find
You most annoying, leave at once
You lazy good for nothing dunce.”

And so I left for school. And there,
The girls began to point and stare
And giggle, whisper, sigh, and smile –
It felt so strange, it took a while
For me to realize that I
Am one goddamn good looking guy.
Then, all at once, they pounced on me;
We squeezed, we cuddled, we fondled, we
Had quite a blast – at half past one
When, quite exhausted, we were done
We went to class. The teacher taught
Organic chem. and god knows what!
Riemann Integrals, I think.
I noticed Susan, saw her wink
At me, I winked right back, she smiled –
When all our class-notes were compiled
She led me to her office where
Without a thought, without a care
She kissed me, and … well, as for me
I really love debauchery.

I stayed there for an hour or two
(Doing things I always do)
And when I looked around and spied
The Principal was satisfied,
I left. And on the field I saw
A Bully punch me in the jaw.
He punched me twice – once more for luck
He called me ‘Prick’ and ‘Dick’ and ‘Shmuck’.
I kissed him on his lips, I ran
My fingers through his hair, began
To whisper in his ears, to say …
But then the Bully ran away.

I left as well, went to the park
I stayed there till ‘twas very dark
Wondering where my life was going –
Then, alas, it started snowing
And so I ran back home, I ate
My dinner and I washed my plate.
And, like a good boy, went to bed;
And no one noticed I was dead.

2008-09-08T20:01:00.002+05:30

Threatened by Egregious Dudette, here's another terrible, incredibly stupid rhyme. Poor you.

It was a Monday night,
'Twas dark and quiet too,
So I sat reading porn
Discreetly in the loo.

I heard the doorbell ring -
My heart was filled with fear.
I put away the book,
And hid the crate of beer.

As I crept down the stairs,
And went to get the door -
I heard a werewolf howl.
The clock struck 24.

As I unlatched the door,
She kicked it open wide.
And there she stood - I saw
My mother-in-law outside.

I tried to find a knife,
A chainsaw, or a gun.
I saw her evil smile:
I knew I had to run.

I ran up to the roof,
She followed - I could see
Her wicked yellow eyes
Staring back at me.

She reached the roof, and smiled
And from the way she looked
I knew that I was sunk.
I knew my goose was cooked.

Attack, I've heard them say,
Is quite the best defence.
And so I clenched my fists
And felt my muscles tense.

I tried to punch her nose.
She blocked, and then she hit
Me on my neck and said,
"You namby-pamby twit!!

You pantywaisted ninny!
Why, you can't even fight!!"
'Twas more than I could bear
(Even thought she's right).

I yelled at her, she yawned.
I went and caught her hair,
And pulled with all my might
And then began to stare!

For there she stood, quite bald -
I quickly looked around,
And there I saw her hair
Lying on the ground.

She screamed and called me names
Which cannot be revealed.
I know you want me to -
But no. My lips are sealed.

And in the Matrix style
I leapt up in the air;
She looked at me and sighed,
And punched me you-know-where.

I fell, lay on the floor
Writhing, then, in pain.
She laughed a horrid laugh
And kicked me there again.

She caught my neck and squeezed
And I began to choke.
I felt that I would die -
'Twas then that I awoke.

I found I was in bed:
I had no cause for fear.
'Twas all a horrid dream,
The hag was nowhere near.

I looked around and found
A letter by my side.
I opened it and read -
My god! I nearly died!!

"Dear Honeybun," it said.
'Twas Mary's name for me
(Mary was my wife,
A lass of 53).

"Dear Honeybun," it read
"Now look here, don't you frown.
I'll be away a week -
I'm going out of town.

I got a call last night -
Some very urgent work
(My Boss is such a twit,
He's such a lousy jerk!!)

I know you'll be alone,
And that was scaring me -
So Monday night my Mom arrives to keep you company."

2008-09-07T18:04:00.002+05:30

Once upon a time (it was a long long time ago)
A little girl began to think that she would like to know
What knowledge is, how human minds communicate; she tried
To think 'bout what she meant by thought and then, annoyed, she cried,
"My God! These things are so damn Vague! These concepts are confusing!
And no one seems to know the meaning of the words they're using!

And A priori knowledge seems the bane of human life
While Analytic statements are the cause of all my strife.
Synthetic propositions seem so simple - well, they're not.
"Cogito Ergo Sum" My God! 'Tis such a scary thought.
I've torn my hair out in despair, I think I'm going bald
And yet I never seem to get what Berkley's theory's called!

And then, to make things worse, my Philo profs are so damn boring,
So every time I go to class I always end up snoring!
I don't know what to do or think - the Truth is so elusive
And so damn fucked up ..." here she got a tad bit more abusive.
But skipping over her invective, we can clearly see
The little girl was irritated with Philosophy.

And rightly so because, you know, philosophy's a pain
And wise wise seers have spent their years and energy in vain
In lonesome thought 'bout god-knows-what and just before they died
We often hear their last words were " I don't know why I tried."

But anyway, this little girl (who, I'll admit, was bright)
Was quite obsessed with all these thoughts - she thought both day and night.
She thought while sitting on the ledge, she thought while bunking class,
She thought while sitting by the jheel or lying on the grass.

She thought and thought and then she stopped and then she thought some more,
And then she stopped again and found she'd thought all this before.
And then, annoyed again, she cried, "Enough's enough. I will
Go meet the Sadhu Baba sitting high on yonder hill.
They tell me that he's really wise - he's wiser than his years
And wiser than his Ganja smoking, semi-naked peers.

Besides, I've heard - this sounds absurd! - that he's so wise a sage
That he's read that John Hospers book - each and every page!
If this be true - I doubt it is - then he'll explain to me
Exactly what they mean by thought and rationality."

So off she went to go and find this Sadhu Baba, she
Went armed with Hospers (first published in 1983,
Now in its 6th edition and with many more to go -
Exactly why I mention this, I really do not know).

While climbing up that little hill, she met a Giant who,
Though gentle, now (for want of interesting things to do)
Tried to vex her, wrote a poem 'bout her and a knight -
His rhyme was quite pathetic and his subject matter, trite.

Although I should elaborate, I really have no time
To tell you 'bout his lousy story and his lousy rhyme.
So let's just say she got away and reached the top and she
Now found the Sadhu Baba lying down and drinking tea.

The Sadhu Baba was so stout; he wore a two-piece suit.
Beside him lay a violin, a cello and a flute.
He smiled at her, she smiled at him, he asked, "How goes it all?"
She asked him, "Um ... excuse me, but are you the one they call
The Mystic Sage, All Knowing One, the one 'bout whom 'tis said
That he knows everything there is, and he has even read
John Hospers?" "Yikes!!" cried out the sage, "Oh God! Oh I'm so screwed!!
Are you another student from that god-forsaken JUDE?"

"Yes," she said, quite haughtily "'Tis true, I study there."
"Oh no!! Oh God!!" cried out the sage, now wailing in despair.
"Get away from me!" he shrieked. She said, "What did I do?"
"A week ago," cried out the sage, "I met a boy like you -
A creature come from JUDE, a really curious looking guy
With unkempt hair, a bulbous nose - we sat and had some chai.

He asked me 'bout reality; what human thought might mean.
I tried to tell him what I thought - he stopped me in between
And told me what he thought - My God! He just went on and on!
And bored me, oh for 5 whole hours, until I cried, "Begone!!
You stupid twit! You lousy lout! You're so damn dumb it's shocking!!"
He did not hear a word I said and he just went on talking.

My God! I cannot tell you what a painful day it was.
And he just went on talking all day long without a pause!
He spoke 'bout Berkley , 'spoke 'bout Locke, and what he thought of Kant.
I'll tell you what he said 'bout Hume ... Or maybe ... no ... I shan't.
'Tis far too painful to recall - he spoke a lot of crap
And then, when I could bear no more, I gave him one tight slap.

He paused and looked at me and smiled and looked around and said,
"The sunset here is wonderful!! The sky looks rather red.
The trees are asymmetrical, in fact they're rather small,
And have you seen a little baby caterpillar crawl
Up its silken thread? And have you got wet in the rain?"
On and on and on and on - My God! He was a pain!"

"Oh no," cried out the little girl, "I'm nothing like him, I
Shall listen to you quietly, I promise I won't try
To interrupt." "Well that's okay," the sage said," In that case
I'll tell you all I know because I trust your pretty face."

And so the sage came closer and he whispered in her ear.
He told her everything he knew - the wisdom of a seer
So deeply wise, she now possesed. He smiled because he knew
This little girl infront of him was now enlightened too.

And then she smiled and then she laughed and then she shrieked with glee.
She cried "Oh thank you! Oh so much! It all makes sense to me!
I understand what Hospers wrote - what knowledge is, I know.
I know just what they mean by thought, and that's why I shall go
To teach the world at large and when I'm done I'll smile to see
Each and every one become enlightened, just like me."

And so she ran downhill. She ran to JUDE. Her friends, she saw,
Were watching someone strum a 6-string, listening in awe.
She cried out, "Stop!" She cried out, "Hey!!" She cried out, "Guess what!!! I
Am now enlightened, hence I know exactly what and why
John Hospers wrote. I know it all. I kid you not, you see
I know what knowledge is, I know Epistemology.

I know (and here she used some jargon I don't understand,
But nonetheless the words were complex and they sounded grand).
I know it all! I know it all! And then I know some more.
I know why 1 + 1 makes 2 and 2 + 2 makes 4.
I know it all and I'll enlighten all of you today."
She paused. Her friends, they looked at her and quickly ran away.

You know, I met her yesterday: she's in a padded cell.
The doctors there, they tell tell me that she's mentally unwell.
I met her two psychiatrists and both of them, they claim
To know exactly what is wrong - the use a complex name.
I smiled and then I smiled again, pretending I agree
Pretending that their gibberish somehow made sense to me.

But all I know is that that little girl, she knows it all.
She knows what Rationalism is, she knows why people call
Locke, and Berkley, David Hume - Empiricists. It seems
She knows Pink Floyd and Sigmund Freud and what they thought of dreams.

She knows it all, she knows it all, she knows it all, and ... well
I saw her sitting down, enlightened, in her padded cell.