the powers to be
have signed the decree
the brown poet shall no longer see
the technological truth and the governmental lies
the free beef steak burgers and the fatty french fries
the quiver between her shivering thighs
this boy is doomed his existence a curse
after all the expenditure we had to carefully nurse
after all that engineering he turned to poetry and verse
what good my lad has been poetry to you
cant you be a team player and write lines of code a few
if only the dragons in your head we could help you slew
but daddy said the poet i like it here
money is tight but poverty can be fun i swear
i will never be your steve jobs but i would rather her shakespeare
daddy daddy after all the lies you tell
mommy mommy after all the spies you fell
baby baby after all the cries the people swell
cyber war cyber sex cyber conflict cyber money
real people real emotions real character needed honey
alone you fought bloody alone you fell funny
let the poets while let the children play
let me drink my tea and eat my biscuit today
tommorow tempt me again in the hope I sway
Waiting for Bono to die
So his music we can again buy
reassure yourself anew
The eighties were the best music for you
When Bono will die
The internet exploding will ask why
St Peter in the heaven smiles wry
Take off those sunglasses when you cry
Why should Bono die
Isnt he beloved by millions in the sky
The record company makes a profit on death you see
Artists are more valuable with shortened longivity
Maybe we can arrange an accidental overdose
Maybe we can chase his car in a tunnel morose
Maybe we can cash in on his artistic legacy
Maybe we can climb the hill with One Tree
Silver Fox, Silver Fox where have you been
Have you been going to London to obey the Queen.
Silver Fox replies
with golden flecks in green eyes
I have been to New Delhi
to discover and explore
Silver Fox, Silver Fox What did you find?
Did you find nirvana or the snake charmer of the mind
Silver Fox is demure
With her well toned femur
I met a mad poet in a charming cafe
He took me shopping with his brown eyes, What else can I say
Silver Fox Silver Fox report to ground control
Come in Silver Fox and let us know the score
Silver Fox replies
With a twinkle in her eyes
I was too quick and the poet was mildly slow
So the quick silver fox jumped up the brown fence some more
Silver Fox Silver Fox love is dead and done
Poets are a poem a penny said Intel to someone
Silver Fox just smiled
Well I am trying to not get riled
But we are not too old for some more
Even though my legs are now so sore
Dear Miss K,
I am writing this in continuation of the conversation we had on the weekend. It was our second date, and once again we had a great time. I promised to call and stay in touch.
When I had some time, I started thinking about you. There is no easy way to say this. I love your smile. It can light up the dark and guide my ship home to port.
I love that we can laugh together, we can discuss politics and religion. We even share the same hobbies, writing and we both have similar professions. Incredibly we are of the same height, and even of the same ethnic background.
I would say you were my long lost twin. I would do that had we met platonically. But we met laconically. On a relationship website. Two thirty seven year old’s of five feet ten height.
We are physically tall, and yet we are mentally deep thinkers. We care more on humanity and its challenges than light weight stuff that seems to interest our “normal” fellow beings.
We are both divorced from our spouses and married to our own laptop. We are both people who love books over almost anything, and we are both on a lifelong pursuit of knowledge. The truth is out there.
There is no easy way to say this. I am afraid I am going to fall in love with you. I am afraid we wont last.
I have made enough people cry in my lifetime. I am scared I will make more people cry if I continue.
I need to be a daddy again. Call me a hypocrite, but I can only do that with a younger wife.Call me old fashioned. I need to have more flexibility to where I want to live. Call me stupid and sentimental. I hate the poverty around me, but the lousy men in blue cricket beats green card anyday. Call me an aging fool. I care less for money than for books.
Do I know what I want? I am not sure. I am sure what I don’t want. I don’t want a relationship that has the potential to make us lesser humans than we are. I want a relationship that lasts till I die, and I want to die of old age.
Behind every man lies a successful woman. I am not sure if you can be that woman. Call me an idiot.
Someday and maybe after a few years I hope to see you across the street. I hope you would be happy and arm in arms with a beautiful child and your husband. I wish I have happiness around me to. Why would I want to do that still?
Because I love your smile. Call me a poet. A bad one at that. But thats the way the Yamuna flows these days. Sluggish and dark.
But I wont be calling you. I am breaking that promise. But I really don’t want to break your heart. I would rather break the fingers that type these words.
I hope you read this somehow. Call me hopeless.
a work of fiction