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Cochin, Kerala, India
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Monday, January 10, 2011

you get to name it.

When I fall my final fall
and get my trial before the divine,
What I did before the final call
insignificant though, with this life of mine.
Can I be proud? Can I stand tall?
Or did I just indulge in food and wine?
Will He smile, or frown at my life so small
And tell to try again and fall back in line?
Is this it or is this all?
Give me direction. Give me a sign...


This is the result of a lonely day and me lost in thought. more to follow soon and you my dear reader, I reserve you the right to name it. Until I find my writing self again, bye for now.

2 comments:

  1. Hi, sorry about all the deleted comments... I had tried to post a comment and somehow, it didn't come out right...

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  2. [Oh, good! That got published all right...And the comment itself... here it is...]

    Hey there... good exercise in rhyming, and good poem... I'll call it 'Angst'... Was reading it again, and it was a lonely day here too... so I tried to get into the skin of a guy who could write something like this... and then imagine what more he'd write, if HE were feeling bored, had just listened to a dozen rap songs, and wanted to amuse himself by sticking with the first rhyme that came up...
    And this turned out...
    ... Thought I'd give it here, right along with the inspiration...



    'Angst', Part II



    I sit back and let the unrest unfold,
    hear it tell me what I've myself told...


    For sprouting this angst, which seeds did I sow?
    Bruised by blows from fixtures that break the flow
    of the path that I had chose to follow
    Is this the way to light, or is that glow
    from a will-o'-the-wisp that marks woe?
    Or sparks from the chair at the end of a Death Row?

    No hope springs from my hearts' fields fallow
    when I go there, and into them I throw
    what others say is the intelligence that I show,
    that makes me differ from your average Joe.
    I feel locked in, how the hell can I grow?
    I'm boxed in, by lines that they say I must toe.
    They give you blinders, you run when they say 'go'
    They tell you - "there is gold at the end of the rainbow"
    (that they've drawn from the blood of an imaginary foe)
    "This is 'competition', as you bloody well ought to know"
    (Just like 'constipation'), "it gets uncomfortably tight, so tally-ho!"
    You get your a$$ whipped if you're too slow
    They scare you so much you laugh at E.A. Poe.
    You run till your spine feels like it’s made of jell-o
    and your face is an unhealthy shade of yellow
    with green and red mixed in for effects very mellow
    You want some air, but you hear your voice bellow
    "Can't stop, don't stop, see that other fellow
    He's catching up, and not just to say 'Hello'
    He's gonna be on top, and you'll be be-low
    (That's being Desdemona, at least be Othello)"
    Just a while ago, this guy was your bro
    But this is a rat-race, you gotta be a pro
    Push and shove some, to others kowtow
    You don't wanna be outta a job, a hobo
    Cutting up grass in some farm with a hoe
    You gotta get the dough,
    for the banks that you now owe
    Holdin' up a crummy life over thoughts shallow
    Music of Living becomes a monotonous tremolo
    played to the ears of a insensitive buffalo
    Hiding horns in the glare of a self-made halo
    However you F$#* up, its just a peccadillo
    Life's rich, and it's a bitch, just be its gigolo...

    o, o o, o o.....

    [{... and just so that this senseless rhyming may now cease
    (before it goes into decline and disease
    already the crowd is going ' Stop, Please'...)
    I'll tell you.. the sound of 'o' is the reprise...}

    I could go on, I tell all of yo
    I still had Violoncello, Apollo
    and Abbott and Costello…




    Cheers, pal! Keep up the good work...

    P.S. : With your permission, I'm sharing your blog entry and this comment on R2R too... :)...

    ReplyDelete