Much 'adieu' about something

Dear Guinea,
I guess this is goodbye,
don’t know whether
to laugh or cry…
that you are off,
all set to fly…
to a new job
in an old city
that you hold dear.

Promise me,
you won’t forget
the minty
caprioshkas
and ‘high’ lesbians
who foamed
& frothed for thee…

But I hope you know
what you’ve let go…
The Nankhatai brass band,
SK’s harangue,
the quirky Bong jing bang:
Anshuman’s t-shirt slang,
the ‘deep’ duo and
and their pangs…
well, you get the hang…
Gosh…now I realize why you flee!!

One of those mornings

The irreverant bell pealed
once, twice, thrice,...
Finding no takers,
it perpetuated the crime
of marauding the dregs of my
dawn dream,
regardless of the virginal hour
or the unearthly time.

Virtually swatting the wasp
that was the pigheaded bell
I pulled the blanket over my ears…

Meanwhile...
neither incredible hulk twitched
nor Frankenstein stirred in
the sound-proof dungeon.

Sponge Bob irked for a second,
went back to sweet slumber
while with the resounding buzz
I turned into a scheming mumbler.

With no respite from the clamour,
I dragged those things
that heave my torso around
to the door; to kill the din
& see what's in store.

A midget demanded
"Money for milk?".
"Extortion in the morning!"
is all I could think.

Blinking and grumbling
I sent him on his way,
promising to pay
another day.

And as I tried to go
back to sleep,
I didn't know
I was knee-deep
in a conspiracy
that began to unfold;
as the buses honked past,
the ambulance siren shrilled,
and birds congregated in protest
outside my window.

Until I exhumed my head
from below the mound of pillows
and woke up to a word-of-mouth rally
that had ensued...

But how could a mere
boy of one and two
be so shrewd
and have the whole world
join in on this feud.

A war that saw him
rob me of
my sleep...
Revenge so bitter
from one so young,
I weep.

Ode to a misogynist

Declaring war on
all things female,
you blew your horn
and regaled
an unfair win.

Except,
crossing swords
with lofty notions
and stereotypes,
she was bound to retreat
rather than suffer defeat
at the hands of a "boor".

I presume
there was a heart
once-thwarted
by one now
deemed a ingrate tart.

In her name
you sparred
with words,
spewing:
For all "eyes full of passion,
crimson lips, whisperings
and timid breathing…
I wouldn't spare
even a brass farthing."

And…
underneath those terse curses,
lurked a desire so deep;
an urge to submit
to female fraility
and be the
sentimental puppy
you denounced.

What escaped you
was: With men,
women go
hand-in-glove.
Couldn’t agree more now,...
could you Chekhov?
But then again,
it's what you'd
dub "petticoat logic".

This & that

Mr.Opinionated,
would you be so kind,
and not presume
that perspectives are
what people hide behind.

**
Two to tango:
The woe in woman
& the maniac in man.

**
Never at a loss,
they gather around
and make a fuss
about some more “goss”.

**
Blow hot,
blow cold;
what a waste,
he ain’t bold!

**
Perfected the art of
waddle-dwaddle
coz’ darlin’ you
never fail to
mollycoddle.

**
Sometimes
beautiful basics eclipse
plainjane logic.

**
Chekhov’s Tragicomedy:
Mistaking the comic ethos
they dubbed you
the master of pathos.

**
After losing the
thread of thought,
I was left with a
oblivious “what?”

**
Sleep deprived,
I coerce alphabets,
words, sentences…
but they only
spell zzzzz…