Google
Google

Monday, February 28, 2005

Feeling Fine

Feeling fine
Life's travelling in a straight line
Traffic's a blur
But you're in the rear
So I can put my heart on a string
All that loving
You and me, baby, we rock
Just pull out the stops
Swap the drive-in motel
For the highway to hell
And when we get there
We'll turn around
Just to watch that horny Dick
Squirming in slapstick ... ha ha
I see: heaven's in sight
We'll take the shortcut alright
Through this firepit, on the other side
So baby, just enjoy the ride

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Ends and Beginnings

He came, I came
the end
Begin the Zygote

Fireworks were lit. People everywhere sipped their gaiety and shouted “Auld Lang Syne”. He took my hand for the first time that night and led me away from the crowds. He stood close, facing me and began lifting my layers of societal conditioning, slowly and gently. He brought his lips to my mouth and his tongue entered carrying new lessons learnt from mistakes repeated over and over again. He worked me up steadily till I was unduly stressed. Then he pushed me down, laid himself heavily over me and I knew that there was no where else to go and nothing else to do except what we were doing. I heaved and panted as he kneaded and moulded me relentlessly. He rode me, to and fro, through untimely deaths, violent illnesses, dyslectic relationships, faithless friendships, lethargic unemployment and general disorientation. I felt him penetrate deep inside me, jerking my life vigorously and I yearned for the pain to end, shamelessly crying out, “Mama”. Yet there I lay naked, helpless while he raped me over and over. I envyingly watched my cohorts take the elevator to the top floor. But he struck me hard and brought me back to his moment. And I was stung, even though my body was now numb to all other feeling. Then out of nowhere, a dull sensation pulsed inside me and increased progressively in magnitude. Glowing hope that began where he entered me slowly crept towards the tips of my limbs. I followed his lead, I joined his rocking movements and only then could I see my silver lining. We rode together now, and faster, as if we knew our destination, as if we had but one destination, and all the while he timed that perfect moment of exhilaration. I screamed soundlessly as the moment arrived and I felt our orgasmic juices mingle and overflow. Still overcome by the moment I was shaken up as a thousand voices blasted my mind, singing “Auld Lang Syne” once again. Only then, I realized that he had pulled himself off me. I sat up and looked around for him but I only caught his shadow leaving in the darkness and my longing for him escalated to higher levels. However, I knew that our one-year stand had ended, that he was gone forever. So I silently prayed my goodbyes to him and I picked up the gift which lay between my legs, the child of our bonding: 2005.

Saturday, February 26, 2005

Lets Eat

Sometimes I wish I were born a piranha
So I could eat anything I'd wanna
And would never feel those dying urges
To binge on chicken and ice-cream in splurges
I also wouldn't have to spend too much
On cuisines of the French or Dutch
For I'd eat alive the first person I'd see
And nibble a bimble of humanity

And while a piranha, I'd wish for dual ability
At times to walk out on land with alacrity
I wouldn't also mind air travel altogether
Only airport security would be such a bother
And cable TV suspended in water would be fine
With 105 channels to watch, all mine
And how about the occasional pizza n' coke
And the Sunday Times with the internet joke

But then there's that nagging thought
That these pleasures to me would be naught
Cause a piranha hath no pleasure in life
Besides feeding on someone or his wife
Guess I'll put aside ideas of being what I'm not
And finish my dinner while its still hot!

Thursday, February 24, 2005

The Spider and Me

Written one bored afternoon, like a lot of my poems have been. Something that may not be absolutely striking is that the rhyme scheme is monotonous throughout.

I love the animals
The animals love me
I don't harm anyone
I treat all equally
But there is one spider
As difficult as can be
He just won't come around
He's the absurdity!

Last month that I moved in
He came to me
We were introduced n' all
Over cups of tea
I saw the web he'd spun -
Brilliant architecturally
But on my peach n' yellow wall
It was plain ugly!

So I asked this spider to
Move to a tree
To which his amazing web
Would match perfectly
But this stubborn spider
Refused point-blankly
Though I employed my charms
Upon His Majesty
Though I begged n' pleaded
And lost my dignity
And all for a spider
With no capacity
To understand the nuances
Of colour harmony!

At last exasperation
Overcame me
I pulled out my rifle
And aimed precariously
A shot, I fired:
It whooshed noisily
And down came the web
Almost half-heartedly!

Yet that cheeky spider
Escaped, though barely
Never to return
To my family
But wherever he went
He bad-mouthed me
So 'Spider-shooting Mama'
Is what they all call me!

Friday, February 11, 2005

Upset the Pace

She drove fast.
Speed thrills, speed kills. Who wants to live under the rock anyway!
I needed to get home. So I drew a map of the route in my mind and let out a simper of breath at every landmark we passed on my mental map. With the other half of my brain I watched the speedometer-needle notch higher and higher as gears shifted and gas burned.
Eleven PM. The roads are bare. The traffic acquires a function of peristalsis.
She swerves around every turn, the looks into the rear-view mirrors ceasing steadily. She won’t slow down for the speed-breakers, the bumps, the ditches, the lights (there aren’t any), nothing, not even the shadows that creep in the gutters that line the tar.
I sat upright, uptight, my back pressing into the seat as I watched the next bend arrive. 90 degrees, envisioned measurement. O! If we could only clear it safely, plus 20 metres, we’d be across another mental-map landmark!
You can light up every dimension and we will still create a shadow.
She got him just as we made the corner. He was fumbling on his moped at the drear gully where the tar meets the dust. He went down without a sound.
I screamed, “YOU HIT A MAN! STOP! YOU HIT A MAN!”
She took forever to stop while she starred at me uncomprehendingly, while she peered at the rear-view mirror and saw only a picture of the night. Even when she stopped, she hesitated.
I was out of the car in an instant. He was already up with his moped-handle in his hands and a hurtful look on his face. He was ok. I shouted, “WE’RE LUCKY - HE’S ALIVE!”
Luck is a philandering whore.
I gave him an address, a phone number. He took our names and the registration number.
She said, “Tomorrow”
He said, “Today”
She said, “We need to go home now.”
He said, “How can I go home like this!”
As he spoke, invisible bubbles of alcohol left his mouth and burst in the air. His slur exaggerated itself. His stagger revealed itself.
Psycho! Run.
She fired the ignition.
I barely got in before she hit thirty.
Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty. No more.
The bumps slowed us down. The speed-breakers slowed us down. The ditches slowed us down. There were so many of them everywhere. And in the rear-view I saw a single bright headlight chasing us down every lane, around every bend.
It was miles and minutes and I lost count. Finally at the bleakest point of the night, we stopped.
She slammed on the brakes in a wham of a skid. She slammed the door as she got out.
The lone headlight that had hunted us came to a halt besides our red racer.
You can run but you can’t hide.
He still wore his hurtful look and his eyes carried a doleful expression. But we knew better; we had seen the glint of steel behind the still black pools.
She began her barrage of words, abuses, insults, accusations.
He defended with slurs and stutters.
I watched listlessly. A siren sounded in the distance.
One AM. Hope dawns.
He startled. Life seeped back into his veins. He jumped onto his moped and vroomed off and was a speck in the distance much before the deep blue van, with the red light on its roof, halted next to us.
They escorted us home, sweet home, where she couldn’t drive, where I could just lie and be.

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Yellow

I submitted this poem for a writing exercise on "Colour". It got me no comments, but I still like the way it turned out. I don't really know if I can classify it as a poem; it seems to be a load of gibberish. Yet, it captures my mood well and my expressions in one single colour and being the defiant creature I am, I let it be my first entry on my blog.

when i happy i yellow bubbly yellow
fresh ripe lemon slice tantalize from
the rim of cocktail glass zing thing i
also yellow when i bored like a sun
lazy run over clear blue sky at work
i yellow when i lied to gaudy yellow
of silk saris six months ago i be anaemic
yellow my blood go yellow no iron
no strength yet i never yellow with
jaundice and bland love life not yet
yellow no nor like Cantonese nor
even Yellow River but my favourite
song be ‘Yellow Submarine’ and my
body be smooth like yellow butter
melt in your mouth utterly delicious
sometimes yellow teeth when i eat
much meat yellow spaces in my mind
i be much fine no yellow in my heart