Crushed

Why is it that I think of you?
Every day and every night,
I don’t even know your name

Why is it that you’re so beautiful?
It kills me a little inside every time I see you

Why is it that I envy you?
You’re so amazing and adequate,
To make me feel this way

Why is it that I don’t just tell you?
I’m not sure if you know I exist

Why is it that I still want you?
It hurts so badly, I want to forget you

Why is it that I’m going insane?
Why is it that I hate you?
And why is that I love you?

The Champagne of Freedom

“This power cut is the last straw. I can’t bear the Congress anymore. It has to go”, shrieks Tia. “Tell me about it. Future super power, my ass. Inflation! Declining growth rate. So many corruption scams. And, now this. Give other parties a chance, will you? It’s as if the Congress is judging us for giving them a second term. Sonia Gandhi is probably having a cocktail party up there in the Parliament House with Manmohan and Chidambaram and laughing at us, calling us ‘gullible shits”, spews Alisha.

 

“Yeah, I don’t see people being held accountable for their actions. There are more scams than the people being punished. We are totally at the mercy of our government.”

 

“Who-ever called this a free country? The British very humbly handed us over to these politicians. It was their final trickery. The Queen is probably up there dancing in her castle donning our diamond crown and having a cocktail party alongside an Olympic pool with Michael Phelps and laughing at us, calling us—” “GULLIBLE shits, I know! ‘Enough with your cocktail parties.”

 

Tia leaves the room.

 

Sabitri Bhuiyan, a woman I have created to enrich my thesis, is now ninety-one years old,

I need a joint

I wrote this poem when I was 20. It’s been close to three years now. I feel that it is worth publishing – it speaks a lot about me (at least I can decipher a lot about myself from it).

 

I had taken this elective course on creative writing and writing a poem on any topic was given as an assignment. As always, I had decided not to do it and pull one up from the internet at the last minute. As I was searching the internet for poems I came across some great poems by contemporary amateur poets and also by some legendary poets like Wordsworth, Lord Byron and many more. (I was doing this just 50-60 minutes before my class.) Then, suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the idea that I always wanted to write poems and be creative, so I decided to write and submit my own poem. And this is what I composed.

 

I need a joint. 

 

The cuddle in the unearthly Mary Jane fields

Indifference to the earthly beings

With our insane coming and intoxication

T’was the apogee of pleasure and fascination

My personal brand of heroine was she.

 

Now I worship alone, oh! Bacchic lord

I lie inebriated, only spirit by my side

Undeserved is this solitude to me

Just other mate I have is a fag

Reminiscing her I breathe easy on its smoky teat.

 

 

Now my age gets some perspective, doesn’t it?

 

I did not submit this poem (due to its obscene nature), but I pulled up another beautiful poem from the internet (which I never could have written) and submitted that one. However, I decided this poem was something to treasure. I don’t expect anyone to critique it. Although, you can tell me how it makes you feel.