One-Woman Man

Can it be true?
That these creatures are non-fictional
That there exists a tribe, to whom we’d ascribe
Loyalties that are non-seasonal?

Can it be true?
That they settle down and settle for
A life more sedentary, yet far less ordinary
Rather than wanting more?

Can it be true?
That temptations, no matter how glorious
Are nixed at the bud, lest they raise their head
And create a situation quite precarious

Can it be true?
That the one-woman man is for real
He may not be folk lore, but chances are he’s a bore
And that, my ladies, is the real deal.

Plans

I used to have plans

To make it big and travel to small places
To find my groove without losing my mind
To think like a girl and feel like a woman
To live simply and take tough decisions
To feel excited for others, and be calm with myself
 To be quite random, and yet quite sorted
To eat little for dinner, drink lots of water
To pray each night and curse only if I meant it
To change my haircut often, my mind far less
To take the fall, and rise in my opinion

And just as it happens to me in a car
My plans sometimes took the backseat
Which is fine, for it’s the ride that matters
In the end, and not the balance sheet.

Mixed Signals

You call me twenty times a day

And then go incommunicado
You say you miss me all the time
But for months, you’re a no-show


You send me mushy drunken texts
That suggest your heart is for the taking
Then you act cool and so-platonic
Clearly I feel so mistaken


You specialize in sending signals
That are mixed, oh-so-confusing
You blow both hot and cold, all times
An approach that’s not amusing


So sweet Sir, please play your game
Surely you’ll find success
With those looking to be used
Like a pawn in the game of chess.



.

Dirty Secret

The skeleton’s tumbled out of her closet
Have you heard her dirty little secret?

A life packed with grey, a face sans regret
Have you heard her dirty little secret?

Losers weepers, what she’s found, she’s kept
Have you heard her dirty little secret?

She’ll spare you the drama, light up her cigarette
Have you heard her dirty little secret?

She’s a write-off, but don’t do that just as yet
Have you heard her dirty little secret?

We, the Women

Women, we’re a peculiar lot
And I am talking ‘bout each one of us
We’re as shrewish as we’re catty
We’re as smart-ish as we’re batty
I think the word for it is ‘DICHOTOMOUS’

The young ones can be kinda weird
Though older ones are no less weirder
They’ll talk bold, then go coy
Fake orgasms, take your joy
I hear the words men think are ‘BLUE MURDER’

Of course, some men claim they’re wiser
And make feeble attempts to entice her
They’ll hang around, be the nice bloke
Take her to movies, laugh at her joke
I fear the words they end up with are ‘GAME OVER’.

Not Happening Today

A good shampoo needs conditioner
A good dog deserves a bone
A good girl needs a spanking
A good writer needs time alone
A good drink needs company
A good fish calls for chips
A good wallet needs more money
A good wine demands more sips
A good night needs less sleep
A good job needs more pay
A good poem needs a hug
But that's not happening today!

The Screw

The blokes, they say are thinking
Of sex most of the time
The chicks, they love the talking
Which some consider a crime

The rakes, they count vaginas
Like a shepherd counts his sheep
The innocents, they prize their virginity
Then gladly, lose it to a creep

The Indians, claim they’re experts
This side of the Brahmaputra
Their experiences few, their theories vast
They proudly cite the kamasutra

The kids, they’re shielded fiercely
From the proverbial birds and bees
But the parents soon figure, that sex is de rigeur
For a generation fed on sleaze

The 69, well, much has been said
At cocktails, some hold court
Of affairs in the past, when they’ve left ‘em aghast
With their prowess to contort

The truth, when all is said and done
Is that, no matter how you think or act
Whether you’re wedded, or simply just bedded
Life will screw you and that’s a fact.

These days

Tears threaten to well up too soon, without warning

And my jaw hurts in an attempt to smile, its true

These days

I look at childhood pictures and wonder, alarmed

Where the girl in them has vanished, or has she

These days

I wander alone in my flat, stare at an empty fridge

And feel a sinking feeling as I try to sleep, but don’t

These days

I have nothing to lose, yet I feel lost

I get up and get dressed, yet feel stripped

These days

Nothing is the same, yet nothing has changed

All that I say, hear or see, is the same – rearranged

These days

A Note to Fat Cells

I like fat cells, I really do

Though often, my reactions are drastic

They absorb shocks, absorb booze

Though physically, they hang loose

Now, that’s not exactly fantastic

I get this feeling, they’re spiteful

To people who abhor and fight them

They’ll enter without asking

And go to parts most taxing

Then settle down, till you can’t move ‘em

Now if fat cells were more polite

And took permission before entering

Easy come, easy go

Go to bust, not booty, yo

They’d probably be worth sheltering.

Vapours of the Past

She dusts the corners, steadfast

Leaving it all behind

She clears the cobwebs, stringent

Burns the visions, unkind

She cuts her losses, merciless

Chars the memories in her head

She clears the spaces, demonical

Puts the stinging memories to bed

She chides the ghosts, haunting

Covers her scars with smiles

She fills the voids, stretching

With stories that stretch for miles

But as she fumigates, fervently

She realizes, quite aghast

That your drastic attempts are a weak ploy

To escape the vapours of the past.

Can't Erase Your Mind

You've packed your bags

you think you've left it all behind

You've settled your dues

And to the yesterday, turned an eye blind

But here's what you'll discover

Here's what you'll find

You can't erase your mind

You can't erase your mind

You've crushed all the bottles

In an attempt to quench your grief

You've chewed on nostalgia

And spewed regret with relief

But here's what you'll discover

Here's what you'll find

You can't erase your mind

You can't erase your mind.

A short conversation between a Cow and Human

Human: Yo Cow, shoo! Sorry moo...

You look kind of blue

Cow: Yo human, life is a farce

when they give you corn, not grass

Human: They're milking you dry, i heard

But this race to beef you up is surely absurd

Cow: Yup, they want me to get big and fatty

coz that's what makes juicier burger patty

Human: Cow, i don't understand why your spirits must nosedive

When you're keeping the meat chain kicking and alive

(Upon which the cow smiles in a stoic manner and walks off saying)

Fuck the food chain, you guys got my arse

But till then, let me go and get stoned on grass.

Monday, I'll pass.

One way is to grin and bear it

Be cheerful and truly heroic

Another way to face a grim Monday

Is to take the path more stoic

There are the abounding optimists

Who will tell you weekend tales euphoric

But you may want to vomit, sink and die

Or consider options more barbaric

Of course, there’s the profound truth

That this too shall pass

But when Monday brings about utter chaos

Such truisms usually fall flat, alas!

Me, I’ll have a conversation with the walls

And create a grocery list detailed

For when it comes to dealing with Mondays

I’ve been there, done that and failed.

Tilt

There’s a lot to be said about straight talking

But I’m inclined to believe

That a well-told lie is beautiful

That truth is best distilled through a sieve

That a story can serve its purpose

If it’s credible and robustly built

That realization need not be one dosage

That the milk need not be spilt

That the lines are blurring and hazy

That you can live life to the hilt

If you keep the fulcrum more flexible

Rather than topple, if you tilt.

The Fact Is.

Long after the laughter has died down

And the cocktail conversation has ended

Long after the clichés and stereotypes have left

And the deadline’s been extended

Long after the déjà vu has worn away

And the evening’s reached stalemate

Long after the cigarette smoke turns to stench

And the kisses reach sell-by date

Long after the drive home is catatonic

And the tears have welled up to a storm

Long after the calls have been diverted

And the phone messages seem lukewarm

Long after then, the day breaks

And the cycle of monotony creeps in

You step out, you work your way through

As you continue to rage within.

Get Out

I love the poems. the rhymes

I love the wine, the wind chimes

And the laughter and the nostalgia

But excuse me,get out.

You have the nerves, the balls

You inundate me with words, calls

and your cajoling and coaxing

But excuse me,get out.

You're good but you know it

You're selfish and show it

You're reasonably weak, considerably meek

So excuse me, get out.

This Pretty World & its Petty Realities

It's a Pretty world

Pretty cruel, Pretty mean

You'll be beaten and won't feel it

You'll pass by unseen.

It's a Pretty world

Pretty shallow, Pretty hollow

You'll cave in and think you're on top

Finally you'll be solo

It's a Pretty world

Pretty uncool, Pretty tacky

You'll realize just a bit too late

That everything is so hackneyed.

The After-Thought

I am at the party

And then it happens

The question is asked

The answer is quick

Apt, Clever, Smile-evoking

Till I go home

And when i wash my face

It hits me

I should have said this instead of that

I should have, I should have

Damn! I should have

But then, the moment has passed

So has the line from my lips

And no matter how much I ponder

It's still an after-thought.

Never Ever

i will never be famous
i dont do a single thing
I used to write okay
but now, u must be joking!

i will never be a who's who
but i'm fine with that
because the ones i've seen
are ugly, ridiculous or fat

i will never win any award
or make any headline
but what i will have is a foot-soak
and that big bottle of wine.

If You'd Only

if you'd only look beyond the face paint
you may find a sinner and a saint
if you'd only dare to take the leap
you'd find these waters run quite deep

if you'd only learn to read the commas as well
you'd maybe want to let that conversation dwell
if you'd only probe beyond the trivial
you'd find a life thats pretty much real

if you'd only care to spend some time
you'd realize its not just about the rhyme
if you'd only understand the un-obvious
you'd have the makings of a great 'us'!