"The cruel irony remains that the truth teller himself lives a life of sham!"

All the recent exam time studying had an unforeseeable effect on me, that of inspiration. So yeah, I've finally gotten back to writing poems, and I'm writing like crazy too! Here are a few -

Nice men and Nice women

“All nice men are either taken or gay”

Again, I marvelled at the oft-heard wordplay

Am I really the nice guy? Yes, in actions for sure

But in the privacy of my mind, I cannot claim to be pure

If thoughts are evil, please hang me so

For I just fucked through her entire bloodline!

--

So then am I taken or am I gay?

For both I’m afraid I must answer, “Nay”

Why then must I have to endure

This clichéd encounter, so wide and sure

Each time all I’ve managed is a smile

At the words which seem to laugh at me!

--

Even as they left her drunken lips last night

A friend on the rebound, now clamouring for a bite

Of the forbidden apple, but I just tucked her into bed

Damn, am I really the nice guy like she said?

The horror of it, why must it be me?

Who should laugh and cry, all at the same time!

--

To hold doors open and talk through silent storms

To act as the backup, all within social norms

Why must it be me who has to bid goodbye

To the girl I just loved, now walking off with another guy

The other pot-bellied guy who has no brains

But mind you, he has a shiny red car!

--

And so dear woman all I have to say

In this particularly dreadful Cafe Coffee Day

Is you were a fool to not realize

And utter those mocking words and lies

For I now know the sad truth – that in this world

Of luscious vixens, there are no nice women at all!

--

--

The words for this one struck me after watching the new Tata Sky - Advanced English advertisement for what was probably the 10th time in quick succession

English Indians

It’s not a mere language my father said

It is a way of life, a corroboration of class

The key to success in our fucked up world

The Queen’s language, the sweet language

“English, yes Sir!”

--

And so I read my books, and wrote in them too

Prose, verse, and vulgar ramblings in thick and through

Making a point to make them gently caress all rules

Rules and conventions of tense, structure and beauty

“Grammar, yes Ma’am!”

--

Then as I grew, so did the childish desires

For I too had been brought up on middle-class fodder

Such that now I’ve attained a reasonable comfort

In the language that wasn’t even my own to begin with

--

Yet I embraced it, or was made to do so

That’s entirely immaterial you see

For deep down I knew it was just a language

And these words now at all times ring true

--

But then I see my countrymen fawning over it

Crowning it in their minds, fanning its already resplendent glory

I guess it isn’t strange, that men who haven’t realized

Their own equality, should realize that of words

--

Old habits as they say die hard

Castes and races are now politically incorrect

So it is money and language, the new parameters

Parameters to estimate the value of a man in this world

--

And thus, it’s now an all too common sad sight

Of merchants eating into yet another disillusioned desire

Of schools and methods that claim to help you find your worth

By forcing down a potion that should all but teach you to speak!

--

--

Hah, I need not explain this one of course

Cows eat grass too!

Cows eat grass, we eat grass

They ruminate in peace, we meditate at ease

But every now and then I cannot help but feel

Sorry for us humans, and envious of the beasts

--

For they eat what they want, and not a judgment passed

Yet for our own habits, mountains of ridicule we’ve amassed

Is it not better then, their instinctive ignorance?

Which shields them from all, but a blissful resonance?

--

Does it not occur to our brethren while persecuting us,

That they are themselves painted in far more greasier black?

How else could it be that they yet haven’t realized their folly

Of killing their own kind, threatening our minds?

--

Maybe it’s the meat that makes all the difference

Probably, to oversee our sins and misgivings,

They must first bite into our flesh served between bread

Maybe then they shall have had their fill of blood to realize

--

That human flesh is just not the same duly processed

They would realize it loses its succulence

Maybe this truth would then make their stomachs sicken

Into a knot, and back to their hale and hearty chicken

--

It is then that we shall eat again, in peace like the divine bovine

We’ll moo our way to glory, we’ll chew our part in this sad story

For in the end all together, with our heads held high

We will eat grass, and cows will eat grass!

----