Heap Of Words

The pencil, Sharpened and ready. Fountains, Bursting to spring forth. Uncork The wine- let it flow! Dried up? Why is it so? "Come." I say, But today it won't. Pointless This exercise- I stop. "But do Come tomorrow." I implore. And thus A whim I chase; an abyss explore. I'll wait.

Ok so what do you do when you absolutely don't want to work? I write completely useless Vogon Poetry that would come in use one day when I catch hold of victims for my Poetry Appreciation Chairs. Warning: Don't read this if you can avoid. ahem ahem.. The Time has come, lady n gent, For Anarchy to be a form of government! We are The Mango People; of the masses And- kings of cliché- for the masses, by the masses! We want no kings, no ministers too, No Hitlers we need, nor would wannabe legends do. We want no rules- of Gods and law- no sir! I care not if the motor of the world stops to whir. I’ll work not if I want not. Period . You guessed it- the reason for this ballad. Still. I’ll work not if I want not to! I’ll sleep late if I do want to. I’ll want my share of grain I’ll contribute by way of refrain From useless poetry for its more than plain That all it does is fry your brain

The morn is here, you said you'd come; I have stories to tell, and news with welcome. I'm ready you see, for you said you'd come Your presence I feel, and my heart begins to hum. I'll know when you come, I'll hear your tread. Still I need to watch the road, for I dread The unspeakable- what if this shred Of Hope were false- Oh! I'd rather not instead. I hope it rains, it'll settle the dust. It mars my vision, for watch I must. But no! Rain may defer you! I'll just Bear the dust and my ears to trust. Have you noticed? Time stops when one waits. Otherwise, it just rushes in minutes, in hours and in dates. O the illusions that this Demon-God creates! But come you will, I know, no matter how late. The noon has gone, soon dusk will arrive. Its rather late, and I know you'll contrive Some silly excuse, and then as usual drive Me into the rage and from laughter to derive. But come you must, for excuses or not. Though punctuality was never your strong spot....

--Disclaimer: As against my own principle, I am making a lot of generalizations here. Caution.-- I read an interesting opinion today, about women. Quoting D.H. Lawrence, from "Women in Love": "And woman is the same as horses: two wills act in opposition inside her. With one will, she wants to subject herself utterly. With the other she wants to bolt, and pitch her rider to perdition." I won't be fair if I deny the first bout of horror (no doubt, feminist in origin) that came to my head; to sample a few- Not a horse, surely! And so judgmental! To define an entire race in mere 40 words!- and so the rest. But a calmer examination of these words opened up another universe of meaning to me. No doubt there is more to women than horses alone. Of course, men can't ride on their backs (and backs alone i mean). But come to think of it, there are two wills inside me at times; and I am a woman- though a poor sample set, but that is the beauty of generalities, who cares ...

A day won't pass without the wish, "Oh! Had I limbs just more than four!" "Oh! Could I cut miles with just a swish!" "Oh! Had the day just a couple hours more!" A night won't pass without the dream, "Oh! Were I the Kent with super speed!" "A personal robot with the laser beam..." "I'll just do this, then I'll be free-ed ..." The train has arrived but the crowd's too slow; Fingers don't match the speed of thought flow! Oh! Why does not the green light glow! No use any longer, of the horn I blow? So much to do, so little time; Oh! Gather cant you, from this hasty rhyme? Oh! How I hate that hourly chime! Tardiness my friend, is nothing short of crime! Entrained in haste does Humanity run; Nobody's noticed? We've left behind the fun... And where to? I see no ribbon No crowds that cheer, no trophy that's given. The stone just might be rolling downhill, No moss upon it- yes- but neither a will. Ru...