VERSE | BIRDS

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

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 horses 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

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

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

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

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

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 IS GOING TO POT

Our blue green world is going 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 is going 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 is going 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 is going 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 is going 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.