Monday, March 31, 2008

just some thoughts

Writing poems is being dangerously close to truth and storytelling makes lies interesting. Now, as a poet and a storyteller I'm torn between the two. Some days it gets hard making the distinction and walking that fine line...but the other days when the hot chainsaw of imagination rips through the butter of life, those days are worth all the stupid days.

People, have faith. There is not need to believe, just have faith. In God, in imagination, or in Mountain Dew, on for the extremists, The Monkeys,[ now that I've said it] or the Tankman.

Having faith is the key.

Hope life is treating you all well....

We shall be back with more madness this week :D

April is here!!

Thursday, March 27, 2008

The MonkeyTron

The soul of a man is but Version 1
But monkeys have come from the sun
Raping dinosaurs to breed humanity
Monkeys can count till infinity

For thousand of years the monkeys have seen
What humans can do and what they have been
But now a new messiah will rise
A prophet to take mankind by surprise

The MonkeyTron!!!!!

His eyes of fire, burning like the sun
All female monkeys scream "He is the One!"
While the male monkeys rub their tails in jealousy
The MonkeyTron has arrived to salvage humanity

He sits on the Tower of Babel alone
His words drifting to radio frequencies unknown
He will speak till mankind is done and gone
For, he is, The MonkeyTron!!

Warming up the fingers that love writing monkey poems. Next, we have a poem about TankMan. Please check out the links to the left for rest of the monkey poems. Yesh! Lots of keywords. Hail Google!


Saturday, March 22, 2008

The Problem

I have a problem
With myself
And that is
That I have too many problems
With things around me
The people that surround me
The things in air, ground and the sea

Because, somewhere,something is fucked up
Somewhere something is not right
Somewhere someone is dying for life
Somewhere someone gives up without a fight

But I that is the way the world works
It turns and turns for me, us and them
And when another day comes forth to meet us
We just have to face our own problems

I'm not looking for an answer this time
Because I do not know the right question yet
I just know that I have a problem with things
The things I can not ignore or forget.

There we go, just one swear word in the whole poem, I losing my touch?

Thursday, March 20, 2008

on going home

Dear Home,
You are not a city
You are not a town
You are not a country
You are not a noun

Dear Home,
You are a box full of memories
Locked by a secret key
Inside a room long forgotten
In a house long since locked

Dear Home,
You are a friend
With who I played long ago
Whose name I have forgotten now
But I hope he knows

Dear Home,
You are not six hours of ride away
You are somewhere close and I can hear
But I'm inching closer to you anyway
And I can hear you calling me loud and clear

Dear Home,
Tomorrow I will sleep in the bed my own
Eat food under my own roof
And like a stranger lost in time
I can not wait to be home

I can not wait to be home.
I'm going home after almost 6 months. Yay me! Be back before you can miss me.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

The Time

There comes a time in life
A time at the bottom of a bottomless void

That time when you are all alone
You have switched off you phone
And you are done watching all the porn
It could be late night or early morn

The sun is not up but you are
An train whistles somewhere far
Somehow you wish you were on that train
or under it.

You look up at the dirty gray sky
You have no courage left to even try
To make sense of your life, the people
or clean your room.

This is time when the bottles are empty
All your friends have passed out
The cigarretes are gone, so is the dope
But the only thing you are missing is hope

In the philosophical time of 5.30 AM
You wonder how many people are fucking
at this exact moment, and why aren't you
with that special someone

This is a dangerous time, my friend
When you start thinking about the end
But in truth, the Real Fucking of your soul
Has not even begun.

When it does, I hope you have fun.
I have many student friends, and when they bitch about life, I feel like doing things to them which I would not like to say on this blog.

In a way, this poem is also a poke at how I was when I was a student. I'd have done things to me too, almost an year back. Time, eh!

Saturday, March 15, 2008

The Chase

Maddened, we chase
Dreams and Deadlines
Life slips away

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

I'm Bored

Bored of life
Bored of death
The violence only tickles
Sex is a myth

Bored of pain
Bored of pleasure
Bored of internet
Bored of prono treasure

Bored of the word fuck
Bored of my stupid luck
Bored of writing poems
Bored of getting comments

Bored of checking my mail
Bored of trying to fail
Bored of failing to fail
Bored of silly tales

Bored of vodka
Bored of whiskey
Bored of getting high
Bored of trying to die

Bored of all my friends
Bored of The Ends
Bored of the lonely nights
Bored of days so bright

Bored of typing like mad
Bored of being glad
Bored of being fucked up
Bored of being correct

Bored of being an inspiration
Bored of being looked up to
Bored of being some kind of fucked up role model
Bored of saying What the fuck to so many things

I'm bored. So bored.
And I wish I could bore you
With my poetry
Like you bore me.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Banana, Orange or Egg?

This planet to God
is like
a banana to a
more like an orange
or an egg
to be precise...

But monkeys don't like eggs
and perhaps
is the reason
why there is pain in the world
I'm allowed to write poetry.
With free verse we just get worse.
Hey! Let's stop making sense for a while ok!

Sunday, March 9, 2008


Being pissed off if better
than being pissed on
Ok I know some of you freaks
like that kind of shit too
Not me.

Being calm is better
Than causing mindless harm
To property, people and animals
Some of you might do Yoga
Not me.

Being drunk is better
Than being stone cold sober
Throughout the day and the night
You will say I'm not right
Not me.

Being dead is better
Than being alive in this stupid world
At least you won't have to suffer
All the fucked up bullshit and
Stupid poetry
Written by me.
Don't look at me like this. I slipped on a psychedelic banana.

Thursday, March 6, 2008





I think I'm probably the only blogger who can pass the above crap as art.
Think, if you can hazard it, it does hold a meaning.

Monday, March 3, 2008

What the fuck was I thinking?

I ride the beast everyday
To a prison, but in my own way
The open road calls to me
My soul is trapped yet I am free

I stare at the skies through the bars
When it gets dark I name the stars
I'm awake even when the dogs bark
And old people walk in park

I made my choice and gave my word
The line between madness and sanity blurred
So now I live for something impossible
Dying without a bang would be so dull

And in between, I write some poetry
Trying to get feelings out of me
But the word is not true, it died
I'd only smile at the feedback you provide
Been a fucked up week, but what else the hell was I expecting.
More poems from now on, I repeat but let's try atleast.
Hey! and none of you reminded me
to do a poem on psychedelic bananas!!