the last sin
  pale ashen sky
a bleary eye
clouds of recurring screams...
i am a zoo
  an octopus leviathan
tentacles into an ocean
of unformed emotions...
syphilis and love  
  syphilitic pall
stifles the clear blue
i contort...
shell and pearl
  amidst highs and lows
in life's ocean flows
a shell peony-mouthed...
i am an unmarried mother
  fed on stings
of barbed milk morality
my child-plankton...
the lovers
  cell upon cell
bridge of their union
hung on the pillars...
  ogre of age
and time cavil
at a warm picture...
the young today
  innocence thaws
at the altar
of ambition...


A Big Fat Indian Wedding
In the Big Apple
Boy meets Girl
They sit on a bench
In a Garden
She doesn’t want
To get married
It’s only her
Childhood Friend
What a shame!
A little banter later
He convinces her
They part
Hoping to meet again

Girl gets married
Treats Hubby like a child
He wants a roll in the sack
Healthy male
With a ticking libido
She turns her back
And goes to sleep
Night after night
One day she asks him
To remove his trousers
My lucky day he smirks
Wags his tail
Licks his tongue
It’s the stain stupid
Needs to be cleaned she says
He dotes on her
Gets her flowers
Even massages her feet
Only a child
Not a man
For her

Let’s cut to our Boy
Momentary Marriage Counsellor
He’s an American Football star
There’s a swagger
In his walk
And a $5 million contract
In his hip pocket
Alas after meeting the Girl
He gets all goofy
Gets into an accident
And acquires a limp
Now his fashion editor Wife
Wears pants in the house
A mansion in Manhattan
Doesn’t come cheap
You gotta slog
Your pretty butt off
Boy gets bitter
Shouts at son
Violin is for Losers
He says
And Diva Wife gets busier
By the day

As luck
And Black Beast
Black Beast Black Beast
When you gonna come?
A masterly stroke
Of Genius
A tectonic shift
In the tale
Would have it
Our Boy and Girl
Meet again
And keep on meeting
At NYC subways
At Hotdog Joints
At traffic lights
At the Central Park
They fall in love
Real love
True Love
Grown-up Love
Heartbreak Love
And they even
Make Love
Unhappy people
Making happy love
You know that classical
Romp in the Bed
That delivers the Soul
And part cleanses
The Body
Then they decide
To come clean
With their partners
Such good people
Such prickly conscience

But hey there’s
Another Character
An old man called Sam
Even the winds
Whisper his name
Sexy Sam Sexy Sam
They sing
In a Holy Chant
Many a nubile Blonde
Becomes moist when
She thinks of him
Thanks to his prowess
In bed we get to see
Some stunning Blondes
Broadway Extras
With voluptuous breasts
Good selection of Meat
You should see
How they shake
Their sculpted Booty
On energetic Bollywood numbers
Anyway Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am
Sam is a Funny
And Truthful man
Full of homilies and wisdom
Age is on his Side
In an emotional speech
He tells his Secret
He makes love
To all these PYTs
As a Tribute
To his dead wife
God bless her soul!

Getting back
To our Shakespearean
Tale of epic proportions
Amidst loads of sound
And fury
Our Boy and Girl
Come clean
With their spouses
And are thrown out
Of their houses
Bold move
Poor Things
Nowhere to go
Life’s a bitch
Dust settles
And then
Lotsa songs and dance
Maudlin stuff
Glycerine overdose
Hair-pin bends later
Actually three years later
Three years of Separation
Three years of Penance
Bollywood ishstyle
If you will
They are united
Lo and Behold
By their ex-Spouses
Such generosity
Please pass me a Hanky
On the NYC station
In a dramatic
Nabokovian finish
It’s almost
A touch and go
Will they make it?
Edge of the seat suspense
Stop biting your fingernails
She rushes past
Milling passengers
Green light
Wailing siren
He steps in
The train leaves

There he is
On the platform
Together at last
Bring on the Music
The Great Indian Rope Trick
(Chain Pulling, folks)
Did it again

Credits roll
Cash registers
Ain’t stop ringing
Imagine so much
Packed In Just
Three and a half Hours
Hello, it’s a classic
Trashcan Popcorn Entertainment
For our dull
Boring lives

Mom, I love you.

27 August 2006