Bad investment

Is it worth waiting for?
All that hardship and waste of time?
whom did I sell my dignity for?
I should’ve known the value of time.

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Gotcha

What you sow is what you reap
Your baby spilled what you’d asked to keep
Why oh why oh why oh why??
I caught him stick his middle finger high!

Libya

Grumpy grandpa had a goose
That laid a golden egg everyday
But they killed the grandpa and his goose
On a bright sunny day.

Gone was all that came for free
They had to sweat for bread and tea.
Shootings and looting were on the rise
Greed was paying it’s price!

The going got tough and the tough got weaker
To their surprise it was all much quicker
How do we undo the done they asked
A wise question that came out at last.

Flood

Rolling down the valley towards a molehill
Taking down lives and houses and riches
The cornfield of filth – see? I made you spill!
The bad, the worst and some witches.

They were there: those that are not of their blood
Caring for none and daring to reach
It wasn’t rain they feared, it was the flood.
May be this is how he chose to teach.

Now they knew. Well, not all of them!
The colour of blood can only be red
We have to go where we came from
Some went early while the rest are dead!

 

The one eyed

I am coming, I am coming
but I can hear you cry!
This is just a trailer of a movie coming soon.
Now save your bloody tears
‘Coz I’ve got many things to show
and you’ve got many things to see.

Buckle-up for the rough ride!
‘Coz I am the ‘one-eyed’!

Ignorance is bliss

We were having a casual conversation. He said if he had money he would fly to America. ‘That’s one place everyone wants to go’ I said. Out of curiosity I asked “Okay, after America where would be your next stop?”

He looked at me and said “After America I will fly straight to California.”

The leader

Deep in a dungeon a man was kept
The more they whipped him the more he wept
He moaned and groaned and never slept
His future was sealed and his dreams were swept.

Then came the time for them to act…
They knew precisely how he would react
A deal so evil on a table was kept
He saw the surface, not the depth.

He had no choice but to adapt
He was just a zombie wickedly whacked
What then we saw was the special-effect
The plan of the devil: impeccably perfect!

 

The henpecked husband

A Man must be a man. If a man starts behaving like a woman then he better cross-dress! At least we will know the difference. I am talking about a straight male who is extra macho while his wife is around. For every little thing he has this urge to run back home. I don’t know who controls whom behind the closed door but the least bit you can do is open your mouth and talk. Of course there is plenty of room to change your opinion later (after you consult your wife, I mean).

It’s rather funny what happens to few men once they get married. Yes, it’s a husband’s duty to keep his wife happy but sometimes you need to pull up your socks and be a man! It is laughable when you see such poor souls. It happens when you let your wife take decisions for you; when you are so addicted to consulting your wife for every little thing. It is when you blindly believe everything your wife says is right. It is when you are too damn weak in calling the final shots. Sometimes you have to use brain or it might get rusted.

Nonetheless there are exceptions to this rule: When the wife is the only breadwinner or if the husband is mentally ill or if he is a lazy bum to find a job…

I am not mean to the wife but there is a thing called ‘discussion’. The husband and the wife converse nicely and as a man you bring forth the idea if there is a need for such a discussion at all. If someone asks for your opinion give them YOUR opinion and not wait for your wife to tell you what to tell them.

There is also a need for the wife to let your husband to be the man. It is easier for people to notice if it is otherwise. You don’t want your husband to be a joker in public. Do you?

Legacy

You’ve got to leave behind a little something of you while you are gone so that people dear to you could feel your presence. It’s like a photo album that is opened once in a blue moon yet memories are refreshed instantly. There are chances that they might feel your breath as if you are sitting next to them.

I am thankful to wordpress.com for providing us with such a wonderful tool to record our feelings… forever (presumably only if you have selected the free blog)! Here I sit with a contented silence swiftly moving my fingers across the keyboard and saying what I am supposed to say to my dear ones who, I wildly guess, might read it one day in an unknown future.

Back in 2016 I would get ‘likes’ and honest ‘comments’ for most of my posts from this wonderful lady, Cynthia Jobin, who by the way is an amazing American poet . She was experimenting with her poems. To be more precise, she was trying the ‘Urdu Gazal’ form in English. I would enjoy reading her bits and sharing my views. Although she was a regular at blogging I found it odd to see her blog inactive for a couple of months back then. When silence swept across her sweet whispers I decided to pay her blog a visit only to see it gone!

I couldn’t stop myself but google her name hoping to find her somewhere and guess what? I did! I found her in an obituary column: Click here. Sad but true. It never once crossed my mind that I would find her in such a place. I was deeply saddened.

All her hard work that was painted meticulously over her blog was gone just like that. I felt really bad for all those exhausting hours she might have spent to fill her blog with creativity: http://www.littleoldladywho.net/. It was gone because she had a website (.com/.net) and not a free blog (yourblog.wordpress.com) that I am using now. A website, if not renewed on time will be suspended unlike the free blog that stays forever (at least I hope so). Like so, the legacy that she was trying to build through her blog was wiped out from the face of the earth. I felt really bad and I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed.

Beautiful people with beautiful mind must live on forever.

Whereas, Cynthia Jobin is a familiar face and her legacy will surely live on, I am hoping that my blog will survive at least a decade after I am gone!

Cynthia Jobin

Cynthia Jobin (Jan 24, 1944 – Dec 13, 2016) – Age 72

A certain age