Monday, December 18, 2006

Who let the cat out? Meow, meow, meow

The past is so redundant.

That you don't see it seeping in you.

Slowly and silently.

This is not the past that you have seen.

Something about which you know something.

Trends and conditions.

This thing is pretty old.

Older than you can imagine.

You don't need to be wise to see that.

Wise people always fail to understand the past.

They will just give you examples like-

History repeats and learn from your mistakes.

The child is the father of a man.

And this earth you live is round.

Mind-blowing stuff they tell you.

Do you care?

You don't.

For you are worried about your performance appraisal.

And the negotiations for the next job.

With your girlfriend giving you an ultimatum.

Marry me or perish.

Or marry me- you will definitely perish.

The credit card bills take your salary away.

And you still live on borrowing.

Either your country borrows to make roads.

Or you borrow to buy the sweet home.

We all borrow.

And we forget all the time.

That this life is also borrowed.

It's true but has a personal angle.

We live for a time and then we leave after that.

Nothing new in that.

But everything foolish in that.

You try so hard.

To give this life a meaning.

You remain positive all the day.

Taking deep breaths.

Ignoring your shouting boss.

Yet you don't understand.

That the chains of slavery which you don't see.

Still binds you to the dark room.

With a small round window.

There is a difference in people who can be free.

And people who can never be in this lifetime.

I know you are the one who can break the chains.

But you won't for the past taught you not to do so.

I told you so, isn't it?


Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Is this what you got to sell?

Can you write this?

Can you fight this?

Can you believe Pinochet is dead?

After many heart-failures.

This was his turn.

Don't you think the world is moving at a fast pace.

Indeed but where?

Isn't it the same small world.

The fucking Global Village.

Fuck you five times.

For giving me all the shit.

I don't even deserve this.

How dare you push your frustrations to me.

Do I look like a garbage bin to you?

Bastards.

Your father is known you mother is known.

But you have become a bastard of your mind.

You don't get enlightenment in a decade.

Or in a century.

You don't get it at all pal.

You never do.

For you treated others like shit.

So you sell shit, get paid for getting it sold.

Now you and your fellas are trying to do a research.

How to shit-sell and stink the fucking world.

May you all drown in shit-pit.

Just fuck off.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

The Complete Man

Is this the time to tell a story?

Do you bother to read one?

Someone please tell them to fuck off.

This writer has gone pervert and crazy.

He doesn't have anything to do in this world.

His hips don't lie and he is satiated to throat.

With memory lapse and nervous disorder.

Holes punched in his ill-fated bloated ego.

He goes down the darkest hole.

Spinning like a zombie.

Smiling though.

His thoughts dismembered by heroic misfortunes.

And over-calculated risks.

A complete loser when it came to losing.

The complete man. (courtesy Raymonds)



Attack of the Mojos

Throw the pen.

In your shit pan.

Oh! don't forget to do the same.

With your scrapbook.

The fast cars and wi-fi is here.

With eveything digital.

I guess the condoms are digital too?

What the fuck?

Get the news before it gets you.

Reporters beware!!!! the day-sub is here.

He will screw you right and left.

No press-releases, no cut paste or else.

You will be cut and pasted too.

The wires are there -invisible yet obvious.

The Mojos are coming.

Are you reading?

You will be news.

I will be news.

Shakira Shakira.