6 - Vagabond Drinkers

Me and Glen Fernandez were out for some tea
We came back wearing cross-stitch stars.

Me and Keith D'Souza were out for some rum
We chatted up pixies with Milky Bars.

Me and James Peters were out for some cola
We chased our dreams in wind-whipped cars.

5 - Melancholia

I walked into the river
with a line from a song.
I wore my black cape
and I put on a frown.

I can't deny I want my
happy ending.

The smoke curled slowly
in psychedelic gloom.
The first time went by
in sadness for Haroun.

He can't deny he wants my
happy ending.

Cybersadism

I was out walking with a friend last night. Around one in the morning he suddenly asks me, you have cash on you? I have coins, I say. He turns to point to an ice-cream shop across the road which is surprisingly closed. If you sell things like juice, junk and ice-cream inside IIT and you are closed before midnight, you should not be surprised about low sales, or uninteresting conversations in your parlour.

Suddenly, I had an intense craving for ice-cream. It was a perfect craving, because the urge was licking up my belly and red-hot whistles were blowing off in my head.

There are varieties of cravings. Mild earl grey ones. Ones which act like additional plugin required pop-ups, incessant and self-updating. There are ones which simmer for weeks, months, sometimes even years without our knowing. Ones which teach you things about yourself you never knew. There are others which haunt you forever, which are never fulfilled.

Barely twelve hours after my perfect craving, I come across this.

And this.

This put my teeth at their edge.

See what I mean?

Just thought I'd share the agony.

(Photo Source)

4 - Semicolons and American dashes

That twirling arrow came from nowhere
Oh God;
I didn't know what to write anymore.

The blinking cursor was stranded somewhere
Oh God --
Punctuated poetry is such a chore.

3 - Talking till Three

We were talking till three in the morning
I told him that not all flowers are red.
And even if all flowers were red
We would be talking till three in the morning.

2 - Bloopity

Bloopity is my middle name
No, my mother's not to blame.

It all began when I was born
I came out feeling rather forlorn.

I didn't cry, I didn't scream
In fact, I shone with neonatal sheen.

The nurses were also very nice
They all smelled of Edelweiss.

I remember in particular: Namaha
Her laugh was a roadside brouhaha.

Have I mentioned lusty Piu yet?
Her boots are made for walking, I'll bet.

I can't believe I missed Antoo
Super-starched and straight hair too.

Then there was Sharan, a total goon
She'd always hum some sinister tune.

Sonal was the sweet, nervous sort
Her nose in particular had me floored.

Lord, those days were so much fun
The paediatricians partied till the rising sun.

Bloopity is my middle name
But my nurses loved me all the same.

1 - There's No Romance

There's no romance in a queue
Everybody's bored.

There's no romance in a pill
You could get cured.

There's no romance in a spinning-top
I've got the cord.

I'm telling you, there's none of it left.
A-tish-oo!

Ovelle

Over the hill and under the sky
Orbiting the rim of a moan
Circling slowly like a dizziness
It felt like an ocean folding.

Veering narrowly into a crevice
Scissoring sharply on his teeth
Cutting the air with its two knives
It felt like a vertical rebellion.

Rustling quietly, leaves on a tree
Creating spaces for three corners
He was edgy, sometimes leaning on me
It felt like weaving a symmetry.

She came down sliding like a turn
On a whip of lush, thick cream
She swerved slyly, gave me a kiss
It felt like a sweet misspelling.