The King's Tomb

(needs work)

A pair of ferrets scurried across the scaffolding,
The day was grown dark, and they were quite blind.

Unmarked marble graves, under an adorned dome,
Mice squeaked in a corner, the roof leaked.

“Majestic” chuckled one, but then grew silent,
Every stroke on stone, every nook, every slab,
Whispered a story that carried across centuries,
And they had grown too deaf to hear.

How timeless it must have seemed,
The king to his beloved, “My dear,
We lived, we loved, we shall lie,
Side by side, in our marble beds,
Forever”.

How timeless it must have seemed;
How cruel! Taken over by louts and lovers
who wont let the royal couple rest in peace.

The ferrets slunk away with a sombre thought,
The King of man remains a man.

Penance and Bliss

Have been wrestling with this one for a while. Originally wrote prose while waiting to meet a professor, and then rewrote it as a poem while waiting for said professor (a different meeting though).
Still not satisfied with it, have given it up as a lost cause. I have it in my head, just can't express it.

There, once, was a singer of great repute.
People thronged to his concerts, to witness his mastery.
Through his songs, he consorted with the angels themselves.
Intense penance.

One day, mid-concert, he stopped singing.
Never again did he sing, the frown of devotion gone forever.
But, the divine song he always heard, and the smile on his lips never fell.
Immense bliss.

Prime Location

Behold! A magnificent mountain on the horizon.

"Feel", said one of the party, "the glorious sun",
We shall settle here, grow old and prosper,
And, as was decreed, the city was peopled - all was done.

Eventually, Empires emerged and Others began to appear,
Heroic wars were fought, many died, much trouble,
All for a bit of land and a lone mountain standing there.
Death did not deter the intruders - no, their strength redoubled,
But peace reigned supreme, wrought with great care.

They came, first with pickaxes, and stripped it of it's pebbles,
Boulders were hauled, cliffs chiseled and a fort erected,
Manned by a carefully chosen set of warriors most capable,
But the best creation of Man is doomed to fail - and it did,
Ignorantly, He ploughs on, living in his own bubble,
It is a travesty of Nature, and I am to live here,
Rock by rock, everything's gone, all's left's rubble.

Innuendo

"Father Agnels licks Saint Mary's...in a basketball match". - Yours Truly.

Literature. Oh Literature. My Literature.
Dear Literature. Please Literature. Don't Literature.
For you, Literature. I will Literature. I do Literature.
Yes Literature. More Literature. That's it Literature.

Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook. Ook.
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Ook! Ook. Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook? Ook. Ook. Ook! Ook. 

Radio Play

He shall, one day, overthrow the oppressive yoke of Pride,
And Dignity, slaughtered in the cobbled streets, you will find,
There I shall stand then, embarrassed,
with a rekindled zest for living.

WINGS on FIRE

On an unforgettable weekend of a forgotten week,
When the semester had reached it's give-up peak,
I returned from home and found
My wing had burned to the ground.

Now, fire is fine for fire's sake,
But booze-induced fires are a bit hard to take,
Especially when yours truly finds his room charred
And the wing indelibly scarred.

Piece by piece, I pieced together the tale
Of heroic deeds done after heavy ingestion of ale.
Not heroic really, some seniors (and batchmates quite tame)
Thought it would be fun to set the wing aflame.

The spark stoked spread soon, gaped the drunks foolhardy
(Lesson learnt : Do not feed a fire with Bacardi)
An army of sophies, at 3 a.m., from their sleep roused,
Bucket after bucket,

From the bathroom to the foyer,

The fire was doused.

All this happened in my sophie year,
Now it's the wing's legend, for all to hear,
Only recently upped by the 26K treat,
But thats another story, tell you the next time we meet.

Disturbed Thoughts

Often when I'm accosted by
A stranger with his tremulous sigh,
I feel an urge to knock him down,
But instead, meet him with a polite frown.

Often I've wondered about this quirk of mine,
How can a person who is otherwise sanguine
Look upon his brethren with no pity,
and later mask it with complete civility?

Often I've wandered about the city
Searching for a companion with inhumane humanity,
Flickers of scorn, glimpses of anger were shown,
That gave me hope that I wasn't alone.

It's then that I'm reminded of
a madman's anecdote - don't scoff;
For, it is representative of our shallow culture
and a true representation of human nature.

When charged with murdering six, and,
Harming three others, he frankly told 'em,
"I'm sorry, I did not intend to harm them,
I merely wanted to kill them."

How true! In this horribly civilised mess,
There is possibly only one way to destress,
For, it is only when man stoops to the level of a beast
that the pressures of being a man cease.

A Sense of Poverty

Out on the road, I met a beggar,
Poorest of poor was he,
Pitying him I slipped across
A coin of fair pedigree.

He pocketed the money with a thankless smile,
And shuffled away from me,
Not content with his gratitude, I
Transfixed him with my oratory.

For hours, I expounded to him
On the virtues of Industry
And chastised him for embracing
The vice of Poverty.

He smiled and led me to a slum,
The stench of sewers hung unbearably,
He pointed out his grandchildren
Who were playing in the mud peaceably.

"Observe, sir, the merits of my vice,
Happier they are than we,
This monstrous world has tainted them not,
Innocence will keep them free."

What right have you, sir, to
Deny us our own small happinesses?

"You, sir , with your frantic shuttling
Are entrapped in a vicious puppetry,
And not content with ruining your peace,
You thrust it upon the impoverished free."

What right have you, sir, to
Deny us our little contentments?

He was getting worked up now,
I tried getting away quietly,
He caught my hand and thrust my nickel
Roughly back at me.

"I thank 'ee sir for you kindness,
But I'd rather not take your money,
I may be poor, sir, I may be weak,
But I still have some dignity."

What right have you, I ask, to
Deny us our dignity?

With that, he turned and
shuffled uglyly awaye,
And I was left with a sense of poverty,
The Nickel- I threw it awaye.

A Dozen White Roses

"Someone gets excited in a chapel yard and catches a bouquet,
Nonetheless, there's a dozen white roses on the grave."
Audioslave - Be Yourself.

Tap on the window, Knock on the door,

Try the door now, the lock - it is secure.

The door is forced open, Oh! Her limp figure!

An angelic grace, but the noose does not flatter.

.

He crept up behind her, a bundle of expectation,

A second's embarrassment, he popped the question,

All the world and his wife be damned!

His beloved had laughed and accepted his hand.

.

Tears stream down her face, "Oh! He will pay!"

She mops her brow, and frantically scribbles away,

This love, it has spent her, She's weak now,

and He! He does not care for her anyhow.

.

The father of the bride was seated now

waiting for the ceremony's final bow,

Never in his life had he shed a tear,

But Joy can what Regret can't nor Fear.

.

"Strange are love's ways", she wonders,

"Must I pay with my life for one blunder?"

"No, the man I love is no barbarian,

I must not mar his heaven."

.

A dozen white roses are becoming on the bride,

A dozen white roses, great regrets it can hide,

And if in life it be happiness you crave,

A dozen white roses lie beckoning you to your grave.

SMSese

SMSese

I watch the world around me with a slight unease
The wind blows, but it isn't the good old breeze,
I wonder, as I fall on my knees,
Did the Devil finally this earth seize,
Our worthless minds too easy to please,
My brows, with intense thought, crease,
My lips, with a cold dread, freeze,
My Eye, oh unseeing Eye, no longer sees,
I have no share of my past expertise,
I whisper a dead man's pleas,
Beware of this unholy sleaze.
(Of greater danger to humanity than cheese :P)

I watch the world around me with a slight unease,
I am helpless against the onslaught of this disease,
Yet, I say, I shall not descend to SMSese.