Thursday, January 11, 2018

Old Monk and a Clueless Son

Old Monk & A Clueless Son

We can beat em all one said
A line from a book on the only bed
Three of us lay, one sat on his bum
Two packs of Peanuts, a bottle of Rum

Friend number one cleared his throat
That girl I spoke about, wrote her a note
F**k! Only three glasses? There. There’s a cup
And then someone brought out the Thumsup

I was saying, listen to what I have to say
Told her we’ll fly through blue skies or grey
Shut the f**k up you talking poet
If you write to a girl, never ever show it

Two of us picked up our guitars
And someone sang Chasing Cars
The sober one quoted freaking Artistotle
Me? I just got wise from that odd looking Bottle

Always wondered, I asked one friend
Do we keep the tongue straight or does it bend
Is it Tonk, or said like a ship sunk
Old Freaking Monk, or Old Freaking Munk?

If I lived this bloody life my way
The speaker got up and swayed
Sit down you worthless drunk
And leave that bottle of Old munk

So it is munk, I raised my weary head
The O is clearly unsaid
Not for us, the Bengali raised a hand
The O for us can never be banned

The Punjabi didn’t care much for pronunciation
This is not Rum, this is national integration
He looked around, all of us sprawled drunk
The Bengali repeated Monk, not Munk

The poet did not give in and gave us a stare
After a glass, she will be standing there
So we all sadly looked his way
Why do writers show up and never pay?

My father was a fauji, I quickly said
Drank like a fish, yet never went to his head
Still have the unfinished bottle I softly cried
From the evening that my wise father died

Three glasses and a cup was raised
Hands steady, eyes slightly glazed
To women, to music, to a selfless father & his clueless son
A toast to our younger days and old Mr. Mohan  

Thursday, January 04, 2018

Every Now and Then

Every Now and Then

Three tables away
Throwing glances my way
With diamonds and two Audis
Sits a woman and three Saudis

All I have is this out of ink pen
She still looks every now and then
I look like shit, so it couldn't be that
Maybe it is the angle where she sat?

Then I know, I fking know
I remind her of a boy who kissed real slow
And made her heart beat real fast
They clearly tried, it clearly didn't last

Maybe it did but the world gave a fck
Lucky lovers ran out of luck
Looks away, when I stare back
Returns to color from black and white

Friday, December 29, 2017

Flightless Boomerang

Objects in the mirror or something
A saying or a song you would sing
This whisky... anyways. Anyways
I was thinking today of our days

I played Nostradamus and you said
What exactly is it you dread ?
How do you know we won't work ?
Wipe that gleam in your eyes, and that dark smirk

We are just the same I said
Wont last a day if we wed
What about the nights you cried
And I became a ghost who died

I don't know, I just don't know
We will be fishes trapped in dead snow
We are meant to be, we will grow
How do you know the end at the start of our show?

Let's waste time you sang
I said something 'bout a flightless boomerang
Today, I just thought I will let you know
There was a muffled yes behind my no.