Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Drunk on Cohen, again.
An early treatment scribble
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
An unfinished song.
You had a copy of the book you bought
Was to show the taste you sought
As you queued up next to me on the aisle
Was a long time ago that you thought
I was wise for the lies you wrote
I fell for them, swam into your isle.
Then it takes a while to rationalise
Learn the hands turn anti-clockwise
Seen from the other side of the dial.
So depending on where you stand,
You get clockwork or you get orange
Get tortured by Beethoven, meanwhile.
Here we go once again, play it out
Use up one more benefit of doubt
Declare love from starbirth to supernova
Don’t Freud our childhood, let us out
It’s not the past it’s been about
Wasn’t me who whispered Naro-Kunjrova.
When I say you, I don’t address you alone
We’ve all desired, for which we atone
Didn’t Cohen apologise to Eunice D’Souza?
What’s poetry but perspective, and yet
Can’t really be mature till it rhymes at
A a b b, a b a b, abc and blah-blah-bova.