Rantings of a raving maniac

You had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around.

I'm having a bad day....
three frigging bad days, to be precise.
Some days the odds are so heavily stacked up against
you that you wanna jump off a building even though
you know fully well you are no Superman...or
a cat with 8 spare lives.

I'm so frustrated (i'm not excluding sexual
frustration here, lol) i could cuss at a lamp post
just to let some steam off. I wanna shout, scream
and gesticulate in a completely incoherent and
meaningless way till every pissed off part of me
evaporates in the wide blueeeee yonder.

So on that happy note here's a semi-prose, semi-poem
that is delicately absurd and poetically pointless
which is an ode to the
(everybody-pisses-on-me-including-the-dog) Lamp post.


The Spondylitis of faith (Rantings of a raving maniac)

I'll swami your priesthood till kingdom cum
Pret-a-porter you to designer heaven
I'll pretzel you till you choke on my behalf
I'll swindle and swine you till you become porky enough to be buffeted on
I'll beseech you to the beaches of the Bahamas
I'll bowl you over with my bowel-enticing boogers
Bemoan your beauty till you blush and bloom
like a wild flower in the loo.
And laugh out loud when you're through
reading this baloney!!

If any of the above lines makes any sense to you,
better incease your medication and go see a psychiatrist.

Thought of the day-- where is the moment when
i need it the most!!

Its time to go back to flower power

I'm not the type to raise issues of 'larger interests/concerns'
(being intellectually lazy and a dodger of debates), but
when i'm interrogated before being allowed to pass
through the gate to my office and my bag is checked
as if i look like a brainwashed dodo about to blow myself
to smithereens, that's where i draw the line
and say - Burrppp..i'm so full my stomach is spilling out
on to the floor. No, wait. That's what i said after i've had
my dinner last night (deep-fried chicken).

What i really want to say is - this terror and security issue
is starting to be a real bugger, although i would rate
Hrtitik's, oops i mean Krissh's rubberband-like dancing
infinitely more irritating. I mean, what kind of superhero
with rippling muscles disco dances to woo a girl.
(Imagine Superman doing a moonwalk or prancing
around trees!!!) As Batman would
say - "It's the car. Just look the car."
NOT the breakdancing-in-shiny-cloths. goddammit.

Coming back to the terror issue, i believe we have
turned Samuel Huntington-ji into the new-age
Nostradamus, what with all his predictions about the
clash of civilisations being played out every day,
whether it's in a wider scale like the islamic jihad
against.... everybody, and the never-ending
Israel-Palestine conflict; or in a smaller, or at least
less conspicuous scale of perpetual tensions between
small tribes and clans in places like where i come
from (where you get poked in the butt with a militant's
gun while the Army prods you with their
gun-nozzle in the front).

With the most pressing concern right now being ideologists
who blow up like old unstable dynamite sticks,
I have a suggestion to stop the rampaging Humpty
Dumptys - Flower Power.
We must go back in time to learn from the wise men
and women who came before us- the baby boomers.
Because?? You ask. Because they were the
"Love Generation." The swinging sixties. The hippies.
Woodstock. Flower power -make love not war.
Cool cloths. Outrageous drug use.
The Beatles... free sex...

We must teach about their enlightened philosophy
on life (smoke pot till u're too stoned to think about
anything except the imaginary flowers bursting in your brains).
Imagine a suicide bomber-wannabe after three sticks
of Marijuana. He'd be grinning till the side of his lips
touch his ears and singing 'all you need is love' while
hugging everyone near him. The only alarm will be
if he's still got the bombs strapped on to his
chest when he hugs You.