Inspirational? I think not

Inspiration let me tell you, is a tricky thing

They say it that it’s something comes from within

Now here I sit, lonely and sad, with a paper and a pen

Inspiration; Show yourself before the count of ten

 

Be careful, my friend, you don’t want to invoke my wrath

Many a trees I have vanquished to find your slippery path

The blame for their screeching death lies on your head

After all it’s you who were so quick to abandon your sled

 

Oh, come now, why play this childish game of hide and go seek

When we both know, that you and I, we belong to the same clique

Now, what have I ever done to upset you so?

Fine, gave a few critiques, just meant for you to grow

 

All right, I give up; I take back all the things I said

And all the paper I may or may not have shred

Tell me, are we fine now or do you want me to beg some more

Oh, have some mercy, little one, my dignity lies on the floor

 

Now, I was thinking, this time we could create something dark and gory

Or something out of our comfort zone maybe, like a little suspense story

Pay attention, now, coz our last write could have been better

Honestly, to me, it sounded more like a creepy little love letter

 

Wait! What now? What happened? Where’re you going?  Oh no, not again

Oh, please come back, if not me, at least think about this poor little pen

Its sweet flowing ink waits patiently for you to cast your enchanting spell

Oh, fine, leave, me and my pen will do just alright without you, go to hell

 

We’ll be great together, me and my pen won’t we precious?

In fact we’ll be better than great, dear, don’t you get restless

All right, brain, long time no see, here’s your chance, think

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Oh, what good are you? Goddammit you really stink

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Mmhmmhmm, la la la, I don’t know what rhymes with la

Aw? Craw? Law? Jaw? Oh wait a minute, I know; Blah

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Oh, inspiration, I’m so sorry, my dear friend, you’re my one and only, please come back

I’ll beg and I’ll plead, if I must; For the way I’ve treated you I really do deserve a smack

From now on, I’m at your mercy, I promise, I shall do as you tell me

I’ll give you the reins, go on, dear, spread your wings and fly free

 

You and me, love, I’m the yin to your yang, come now, let’s start this with a bang

We’ll form our own gang, and while we’re at it, I really need to learn some new slang

All right, let’s concentrate, from where do you suppose we should start

Let’s organise our thoughts, do you think we should make a little flow chart?

 

 

Tragedy, you say, that’s a good idea, I mean, that is stunning, but if I may offer a suggestion

Haven’t we written more than enough tragedies, perhaps we need to break this obsession?

Maybe we need something different, a little catchy, with a little zing, and a little more wow

Oh, you’re leaving again, okay, fine, no need to point it out; I know what I did wrong now.

Happy Beginnings

 

The whisper soft rays of the evening sun gently drench my living room

Like a meeting of two lovers grown distant through the tortures of the bright cruel day

The soothing sound of the playful raindrops hitting the rooftop

Lulls me into a carefree trance that my poor heart had long coveted

 

My nostrils gladly welcome the heavenly scent of fried pakoras cooking

The sweet humming sound of my ma singing out of tune, an old bollywood song,

which curiously reminds me of a time I unfortunately never witnessed

Papa sits on the balcony with the evening newspaper in hand

Sipping hot chai, with sugar this time (diabetes can go to hell, he says),

that my ma made after much pleading and grumbling on his part

 

The repetitive thud of my brother mindlessly throwing homemade pencil darts

On an old art project of mine, unfortunately made of thermocol,

Hoping one of them would stick, in a very successful attempt to annoy me

Even the screeching sounds of auto rickshaws and buses outside

Provides an almost bollywood style background score to this much relished normality

 

This, right here, with my papa loudly announcing the Cricket scores much to my amusement

With my ma singing horribly off key and dancing little circles on the kitchen floor

And my stupid brother, now grown tired of his game, desperately trying to steal my samosas

Is my sunshine and fairies, my happy ending; this here is my nirvana

No heroes to save the day, no sir, just some memories made on the sip of a hot masala chai

Beware of a writer

 

Beware of a writer

I will steal your stories

your quirks

Your personality

I will find what makes you tick

I will dig deep and figure out your every flaw

I will build a cage of words

And let you peek out from behind the bars of my letters

Like a beautiful little bird

 

Beware of a writer

For I will steal from you

A part of you that will always belong to me