Tips from a self proclaimed poet

always skip a couple of words. 

never say sorry or thank you. 

write only when you hate yourself.

save the best for the weekends.

it doesn't matter where you sit. 


speak out loud, but whisper sometimes. 

create intrigue. change topics mid sen

flatulence is always a good topic.

never too proud, never too humble. 

do remember to pray on mondays.

sing,        flush,       dance,        wonder,      chew,       stretch.



look
for
a pattern. usually
works.



step
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 comfort zone.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
out of your 

beware, coffee is for closers only. 

when in doubt,

• A 
• B 
• C.

home is where the heater is.

double eww double eww double eww


go wander. 

do ponder. 

never pander. 

with six words, rewrite your resume.



friends are selfish. they usually help.


fathers sometime bother. mothers always smother. 

let go once. let go again. 

do you want to stay alive?








keep your distance from ------------------------------------------------         grammar nazis.








believe in pornography. it certainly exists.

don't believe in god-men. they exist.

rant rambunctiously. 

eat shamelessly. 

love unconditionally.

Nailed it, btw

What are you supposed to say when you happen to bump into someone after ages?
Someone you weren't particularly keen on meeting, someone you'd not bothered to find out if they were alive or dead?

"Hello, long time. Whats up?"??

What are you supposed to say when someone goes two nights later, " oh I nailed that chick last night, btw" between sips?

"Good job, dude?"

"Its a small world?"

and silently mutter to yourself, "I said pass a while back"?

Its a strange world.

strange insights

Our insecurities tell us a lot about who we really are.
I am always insecure about money.
I can never figure it out.

Sometimes I have lots of it and i throw it away.
Other times I have little which I put away for a rainy day.
Mostly I have none and I feel really light, and happy.

Right now, I have none.
But I am worried.

Because there are a whole lot of people dependent on me, today.
Expecting me to deliver.
To perform.
To bring in the loot.


My family.
My team.
Their family.
And all those who have projected their aspirations onto ours.

It is a strange sense of fear, mixed with a strong sense of longing.

Longing to go back to simpler times.
afraid those don't exist.
Longing to go forward to happier days.
afraid those are far away.

Just being
right here,
right now
is exhilarating.

I realise,
it is a lonely climb upwards.
Because baggage can get heavy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am going to run.
Every day.

It seems like the closest one gets to understanding
the predicament.

The pointlessness of the exercise
is enough to fill a man's heart.

I
will
die
a
happy
death.

Saturday Night Blues?

What is this sense of belonging all about?

Do I belong to my laptop with which I spend a major part of my day?

Do I belong to my EXcess love about who I wonder about on full moon nights?

Am I a part of this wonderful group of friends who I proudly proclaim as mine?

Am I a part of this city which gives me this strange sense of security?

Is my dad mine? Can I crawl back into my mum?

Can I claim I belong to this race? this clan? this religion? this faith?

Should I feel proud that I am from this nation called India?

Maybe I should thump my chest that I can speak Tamil?

Or should I feel proud that I have people who claim that they belong to me?

The ones that say I inspire them?

What about the ones who live in my apartment? my street? my area? my city?

This is a strange day, with a lot of fun stuff thrown in.

In the name of entertainment. Intoxication. 

Hello, Death.

"Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

"This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill."

- Requiem - R.L Stevenson

Encountered these wonderful words as I waited for inspiration. 

Never will I quote these again. Never will I forget. 

sweet refrain

This is the song I am gonna be singing for a while!
Catchy stuff. 

The best things in life are free
But you can keep them for the birds and bees
Now give me money
That's what I want
That's what I want, yeah
That's what I want

You're lovin' gives me a thrill
But you're lovin' don't pay my bills
Now give me money
That's what I want
That's what I want, yeah
That's what I want

Money don't get everything it's true
What it don't get, I can't use
Now give me money
That's what I want
That's what I want, yeah
That's what I want, wah

Money don't get everything it's true
What it don't get, I can't use
Now give me money
That's what I want
That's what I want, yeah
That's what I want

Well now give me money
A lot of money
Wow, yeah, I wanna be free
Oh I want money
That's what I want
That's what I want, well
Now give me money
A lot of money
Wow, yeah, you need money
Now, give me money
That's what I want, yeah
That's what I want

In search of...

We start writing in the hope that we are going to create something epic, plunge headlong into the plot, protagonist, the characters surrounding them - mother, estranged dad, baby brother, best friends, acquaintances, and so on
But
It falls short.
Disappoints.
The epic in your head falls short,
The pic in your phone turns ugly,
The story so far is beautiful,
But uninspiring,
It gets over too soon,
Simply
The end.

And the fishing begins again.

Fun, partly.
Tiring, mostly.

Faith.
Hope.
Love.

The next big epic awaits us.