Category: funny

VERSE | Aii-o!

On By Mahvash K. M.In Coffee shops, food, Foot in the Mouth, funny, Rant!, verse, womenwriters, writingLeave a comment 
It was so, that palpitations on the go
Were what this brew 
Bestowed on me willy nilly
Everytime I put a mug of it
To my lips and took a sip

That cup-o-java treacherous 

Time took its stride, I began to write
And the gentle infusions
Of earl grey tea and BOP 
Just lost the zing they brought to things
Robot, human and alien

As onto joe I transitioned

Now I’m somewhat of a connoisseur
Of the brew, and what have you 
I cringe when it is less than perfect
My taste buds scream at every defect
In a mug or cup or a takeaway

That I encounter through my days 

I tell this story because today
Is alas one of those days
Where my joe, is a little slow
In bewitching my senses as I conjecture
Its milky hue and grainy texture 
Grounds afloat like demon specters 
No soulful brew, no gods’ nectar 
The stuff of theses, TEDx lectures
I could go on, but suffice to say

Dear barista is off his game today.

Image generated via illustration software

VERSE | I THOUGHT I’D GET A KINDLE

On By Mahvash K. M.In funny, poetry, satire, womenwriters, writingLeave a comment

A bit of a humorous jab at AI snoop-iness and how we’re all slowly but surely slipping and sliding towards that destination one and all.

I thought I’d get a kindle
Get on the tech bandwagon 
So off I went exploring 
The retail world of Amazon 

The user friendly tablet arrived 
Gleaming and spanking new
I undid the strings, savored the unboxing 
It was a serene and calming blue 

I set it up, easy as pie 
No I’m not a gadget beast 
But I laid my trust in wise old words 
Find you shall, what you seek 

I downloaded my first book 
Orwell’s dystopia galore 
A perennial favourite of mine 
His truth-telling “1984”

As I perused in paper white  
The old lines that I had read 
Someone said in New speak 
Thoughtcrime bytes. You dead 

I looked in horror as the words 
Came skittering off the screen 
They grew teeth, gnashed them at me 
I rent the air with my Old Speak scream 

I woke up with a start the pad
Lay innocently charging away 
I unplugged it, boxed it back in 
To the pack from whence it came 

I picked up its paper bound twin
from the shelf, I held my breath 
The words there safe, 2 dimensional 
Stayed in their realm of width and length 

And so I have resolved that
Poking around in a digital brain 
Isn’t for me, the glue bound leaves  
Is where my read-ventures shall remain.
Image: Malcolm Liepke

VERSE | THE AB-SIND CLUB

On By Mahvash K. M.In Foot in the Mouth, funny, poetry, verse, womenwriters, writingLeave a comment

This is a fond tribute to all the microscosms of colonial design and demeanour/ architecture and attitude that continue to faithfully roost in various cities across what was once the coveted Jewel in the Crown.

I’m having a day that’s making me feel 
More sterile than a beetle on its back 
I’m walking on the thin side 
Of breaking down, losing sight 
Of my psychedelic, privileged life 
I need some of the forgetting tonic 
That Pir Buksh so expertly whips up 
That makes me happy, schizophrenic 
With every sip and every glug 
I drink the potion, and I duly grow 
My Abs synth-esizing my lost bravado 

Suddenly they’re all like flies 
On the periphery of my eyes 
They cease to make me wince and curse
They cease to be a part of my universe 
I sit back, bark an order 
In Bloodhound, German shepherd tones 
Throw a carcass, throw some bones 
Throw a tantrum for good measure 
The club becomes a pyramid 
I’m at the top, the very apex 
Those hoisiting it upon their shoulders 
The club like a majestic boulder 
Matter not, they sit there 
Like a pile of boring underwear 
They’ve seen it all but you don’t care
They keep it all precisely together 
The erstwhile jewels in their imperial leather 

“One more!” I shout in thundering tones 
“Absinth me up quick bartender!”
Before I lose the precious threads
Of the delicate lace of elegance 
Pir Bukhsh gives me some more manna
From the counter in the shadows 
And I swallow and I glide
In the throes of happy amnesia 
The absinthe in the Ab-sind club 
Makes me feel so damn superi-a
Heavens be praised I’ve had a day
Like I’m lord of a castle in the UK
Indeed, the last few hours have made me feel
Like a hero in a Bollywood reel.

VERSE | BIRDS

On By Mahvash K. M.In Foot in the Mouth, funny, poetry, verse, womenwriters, writingLeave a comment 
I’d become an avid bird lover
Since the pandemic hit my town
Ere I never could relate except
As a beholder looking on

But then this pair of mynahs
Intrepid little things
Well one was bravheart, the other a mass
Of nervous fluttering 

Decided that my balcony 
Was a good place for some treats
So they would pay me visits 
For some raisins and some cheese

I came to home number two
Carrying my avian love with me
Cooing pigeons in all forms
There frequented my balcony

Their rolling gait, their gentle sounds
Quite stole my heart away
And so I wooed them as they cooed
Treat-luring them everyday 

By and by the guileful birds 
Dropped their adorable avatar
My chairs and tables were endowed 
With their organic pockmarks

Now gently I admonish them
When they flap into my home
But they think I’m requesting more
Of their nitrogen-rich guano

I’m now a not so avid fan
Of the expelling, flying flock
My OCD has on my glee quite
Turned back the blessed clock.
The parents had brought their fledgelings to my home a second time. A bit of a soft initiation into the real world 🌸

VERSE | BLUNDER WOMAN

On By Mahvash K. M.In Foot in the Mouth, funny, poetry, verse, writingLeave a comment 
I was in a hurry, in a mad rush 
The morning was crazy, yes one of those 
The alarm had belted shrilly out
But I was dead to the world, comatose 

Dreaming of wishes being lattes and Bookers  
Until the clock struck ten and then 
I threw off the duvet, leaped out of bed 
Limbs all awry like a headless chicken 

Here’s a little aside: when I’m stressed 
My hair also declares a mutiny  
Acts up like it’s the raging heroine 
Of its very own show on prime time telly 

And so it was in this agitation 
That I knocked my elbow on the door 
I cursed like a sailor who’s had too much ale-er
Deliriously, frenziedly I swore 

I vented as much as a random string 
Of choice expletives can enable 
The rest of the rage I swallowed away 
As virtuously as I was able

Then the ultimate decimation came to pass
I stubbed my wretched left little toe 
What chanced to happen in the heat of my passion
You really wouldn’t want to know 

Suffice it to say that on that day 
The angels filling in my Wicked Gal page
With brimstone, hellfire, the sinfulness of ire 
Had a field day, ‘twas their advantage 

And so ‘twixt my shoulders and my feet now
A funny bone doesn’t exist at all 
I try to be sweet-talking, kind and good 
Until the next time I slam, stub or fall.

VERSE | MONEY DEOL

On By Mahvash K. M.In funny, poetry, satire, verse, writingLeave a comment

A fond and fun tribute to all those who live in close quarters with Money Deols. May the universe keep sending you little kindnesses to make up for the relentlessness of your days 😄

I had this absolutely delicious dream 
Of floating amid pocketbooks laced with cream 
Dollar bills and five thousand notes
Were sending their special bouquet up my nose 

Morning came and I had to resign 
Those exquisite dreams to the tides of time 
But ever the optimist that I am 
I know I’ll dream of riches again 

Today after breakfast I meditated
On my bank balance in the United State-es
My heart skipped a beat, I had to be cautious 
But oohhh! All that dough! So Expialidocious!

For lunch I had a sandwich and a coke 
My mind wandered into another nook 
Yes it was lined up and down with money bags 
I was so overcome I almost gagged 

Tea was a peaceful affair as the day waned 
As I dipped in a biscuit my thoughts roamed again 
My prime real estate and other things like it
Made each sip sweeter, each bite iconic 

By dinner time the perfection of my day 
Was marred only by the distance that lay
Between all my riches and my two hands 
That lovely bond only wealth connoisseurs understand  

My prayers were modest as they always are:
God please don’t ever take me far 
From my beloved’s legally tender embrace 
I bow to you, I request your benevolent grace

I then lay me down for another night 
Of gilded dreams and green backed sights 
I slowly drift off on precious wings 
Made of savings certificates and treasury bills

VERSE | SCHIZOMEDIA

On By Mahvash K. M.In funny, poetry, verse, writingLeave a comment 
I Laugh Out Loud as I hear him tell the joke
Of the 12 inch pianist who was quite the coincidental bloke
She Twittered delightedly out loud and on her phone

We were out and about, having coffee and conversation
About Freedom of Religion and Marijuana regulation 
Facebook also heard it all through her joyful proclamation

The waiter brought our food in style, ‘here you are madam!’
He and I had pizza, she had salad with J. Statham*, 
(The pleasure of his photo presence she could only fathom!)
But Instagram was hit with #handsomeboy and #foodgasm

We were done with lunch now, chatting over cherry flan
When there was a bustle and in walked Fawad Khan*
Of course she put the video on Snapchat for all her fans

Three hours later, satiated, our day updated digitally
While saying goodbye, he tripped outside and fell on the concrete 
TikTok later showed us all how hilarious tragedy can be

And there you have it, dear friends and frenemies 
Our lives on a platter for all the world to see
A Schizo-polar history for our bedevilled progeny.
* Jason Statham: An English actor and producer. Typecast as an antihero, he is known for action-thriller films and portraying tough, irredeemable, and machiavellian characters.

* Fawad Khan: a popular Pakistani drama and film star.

VERSE | THE ART OF TRAINING PRIMITIVE MAN

On By Mahvash K. M.In Foot in the Mouth, funny, poetry, verse, writingLeave a comment 
I walk down the street, my face set so 
The kind that threatens “Back off!” you know ..
Some also call it the Resting Bitch Face 
I call it my Psychosocial Can of Mace 

I will deny that I’m a lonesome brooder 
Heck! I love life’s energy and sizzle
It’s just that as I’ve grown older … and crosser
My Crap Tolerance has all but fizzled

The thing is I now don’t take kindly to 
Neanderthal stares when I am about
Eyeballs a-popping, dignity devolving 
Seeing Homosapien man driving himself out! 

I remember I used to look away before 
The caveman crassness too much for me 
Now I reward them, with stupendous contortions 
Maybe add an unlovely squint or three 

Here’s the ruse, these men are obtuse 
They’ll only ever shake their tails 
To the pretty demure, girl next door 
A vibe that so many ladies emanate 

So when they see, the prettiness flee
Leaving a facial mass of disturbing stuff   
The caveman stands up, evolution catches up
The genteel one can’t look away fast enough! 

So the next time, that you feel inclined 
To give an avid ogler a fit resprise 
Toggle the peeps, bare all your teeth 
In a grimace fit for Franken-bride 

And that ladies, is why you’ll find me
Walking serenely down the street  
Until I’m in a parade, for the Staring Brigade
Then I unleash the power of the squint and the teeth.

(Amen to growing older, madder and wiser! 😉)

VERSE | THE KNOCK KNOCK JOKE WITH A MENTAL TWIST

On By Mahvash K. M.In Coronavirus, Foot in the Mouth, funny, pandemic, SriLanka, verse, writingLeave a comment

Written amidst the mind-numbing perils of never ending curfew lockdowns. Read at your own mental risk 🤓

Tak taka tak - Tak Tak
Kaun hai bhai bata ab tak

CHINA!

CHAI NA girana babu
Bari tarpay tarpay tarpay
Meri leg not so halkay halkay

Knock knockity! Knock Knock
Who’s there, before I click back the lock

ZEBRA! 

ZE BRA in France is black or white 
Practical and just hugging one right 
And if you feel the added zeal 
Add some colour, like lilac and teal. 

Tap ti tap tap - Tap Tap 
Who is it? That was a fine rap

LIZARD! 

LIZ ‘EARD you call her “mighty stout”
You really put your foot in your mouth!
She may be big but she’s got style 
She’ll make you eat your words for a mile 

Ding da ding ding- Ding Dong
Who is it? Come sing us a song 

RHINO! O-O! O…OOOO!

Mr. RAI, NO we will not do this 
Mrs Rai yes it’s all the craze 
Rainbow coloured hair for you 
And I will go for baby blue 

Clap de clap clap - Clap Clap
Who goes there? Who gives my door a thwack? 

‘Tis me MAYNA!

MAY NA bhoolonga 
MAIN NA bhoolongi 
My nemesis is bharta de cauliflower  
And mine is garbanzo beans! 

Open the door for salvation
Open the door for your soul
Who …  who’s there? 
‘Tis me your moral sense, 
Call me your conscience 
No punning, rhyming words here
No weighty equations.
Just you and me and clarity 
That’s been lost too long at sea

I’m deaf! I’m deaf! I can’t hear you 
Ps. I’ve not seen any clarinet either! (Hehe!)
So the door stays closed, barred and locked
Not opening any windows neither! 
Go elsewhere, go where you can be heard
The (h)earless are quite rampant here 
Don’t come knockity knocking upon my door
Amd I’ll pretend as if you were never here - dear!

Conscience! Right! Where’s the pun in that!

VERSE| The Happy Ever (Cr)afters

On By Mahvash K. M.In Foot in the Mouth, funny, poetry, verse, writingLeave a comment

A satirical take on some of the fairy tales we’ve grown up with. Can you guess each of the four Scary Tales? 🤓

You know I kind of hate you 
With your magic and your spells 
Always trying to help folks 
Always being so swell
My father’s on his own trip 
Marrying yet again 
I wanted all his attention 
Now of my existence you’re the bane
So I’m going to show you up as 
The evil step mom in the wings 
Going to booze and then I’ll snooze
And await my Prince Charming 

I’ll do you better with my step fam 
A mother and her progeny!
I curse the day I met them 
The entire simpering family! 
I’m irked by their sweet faces
These step sisters of mine 
Always minding their Ps and Qs, 
Dimpling their saccharine smiles.  
I’ll raise a big fake scandal 
Of their meanness and their pride 
Pater will have no choice 
But to have them thrown outside. 

I’m a bit of a peculiar one 
I loved my solitude 
Until father brought in New Mom
My lonesomeness to loot
Always laughing, always nice
So gleeful and alive 
I’d been cringing night and day
At her effusive vibe 
So I plotted insidiously and 
By and by got myself out
I now have my own tower  
For my tresses and my gout. 

You’ve all taken so long to weave 
Yourselves into this rhyme 
We got rid of our step mom 
One bread crumb at a time. 
She insisted on healthy food 
And also bushels of love 
Ugh! No! We wanted none of that 
So we arranged for witchy stuff
Old Dame Crone opened her home 
To us to live with her 
Ice cream and pizza off the doors 
In bed, Twix and Ferrero Rocher! 

The old wives tales of mean step moms 
Are a riot and a half 
But we are not complaining; No!
We’re having the last laugh
Princesses and Cinder-gals
We’ve all got our own quirks 
And truth be told, we oft unfold 
Into audacious jerks 
These scary tales are the flip side 
Of the happy ever after 
Sometimes the cackle that you hear
Is our malificent laughter.

VERSE | OUR WORLD HAS GONE TO POT

On By Mahvash K. M.In Foot in the Mouth, funny, poetry, satire, verse, writing3 Comments 
Our blue green world has gone to POT
Not the stuporous, cheering kind
The elating, fascinating kind
The happily beclouding kind
The angst all a-blurring sort
No, all that it certainly is not

But our world has gone to POT
Not the souffle baking sort
Not the healthy steaming kind
Not the chicken tikka fry
Nor the chuck roast braising sort
No, none of that comforting lot

But our world has gone to POT
Not the bowel movement kind
The cleansing of the intestines
The calming morning ritual kind
The 1 kg load lessening sort
No, of the closet family it’s not

But our world has gone to POT
Moral compass broken down
Compassion harder to be found
Dignity, serenity, gratefulness
Are just so many hollow sounds
In the flowing waters of life
From cresting fullness back to the ground

Yes, our world has gone to POT
Not the stuporous, cheering kind
Not the soufflé baking sort
Not the morning ritual kind.
But the saddening, maddening sort
The depressing, disappointing sort
The “I’m done with it. Over and out”
That’s how our world is going to pot.