Saturday, November 16, 2013

Tush Talk

What's in a Rump?

The butt of a woman is more than a thing of beauty
It’s a butt without ifs
No tosh in the tush
Buttocks you may tap if allowed
Drum the bongo if permitted
When walking it’s a rhythmic bounce
When sitting it’s a cushioned pomp
Bottoms up is in fact bottoms down
Her arse never makes an ass of itself
There’s panache in that booty
Pizzazz in that rump
Bakery in those bon bons
Fun in those buns
These bums are never lost
Chutzpah posteriors
Mooned razzle-dazzles
Their rear-ends are sanctified realms
All one can do is gaze
As they sway those hypnotic mounds
Leaving you behind
Looking bonkers
Gripped by panic attacks of fear of the rear
Of hanging out with those tantalizing twins
Causing traffic bumps
Men falling into potholes and cracks
Those holy humps
Cheeky sisters


Subway subterranean extrapolation
Seeks exits
To suck in open air
And feel alive

Stare At:

Rested sleeping body awakes
Busy activist mind rises in concert beeping conscious alarm
Forever looking for each other


Subterranean recesses grips
Life’s buoyancy surfaces
And back to open dungeons as it’s wont to be

Wall Talk:

Graffiti is the lingo of the streets
Open craft
Anonymous artisans
Personalized sprays
Universal status
Daring dirge to dire straits
Bearing bare bones
Pissed provocateurs
Benign bulletins
Positive publications
Banal banter
Deep diaries
Regal expressions
In colored collaborations
A single epic narrative nurses life
From birthing buoyant babies
To growing adulterations
And eventual passages
And back again

Back Seat View:

Sitting against the traffic
My train goes back in time
Bringing me back to where I began
And stopping at places I don't wanna be
Now I take the bus
And sit with the traffic

Laughable Life:

Without self-deprecating humor
One would probably live a serious life
Parroting cherished mottos ala ‘it’s no laughing matter’
Sternly followed by ‘it’s not funny’
Posthumously remembered as ‘that serious ol’ twat’
Rather than fond ‘funny ol’ farts’

Changing Skin: 

A superficial twat
He'd seek and scan approval
Frown at disinterested faces
Dress in dead scaly reptilians
The pathetic little mammalian sac of shit
Holding onto the embryo
Hanging around with an umbilical cord
So I went over
Trashed his skin
Made an omelette out of the embryo thing
Fried umbilical cords
Roasted placenta
The bugger said it was the best breakfast he’d even broken
Asking me for the recipe
Raving on about the taste
I guess it must have been finger-lickin’-good

Airport Mode:

For pure theatrics
From the crafted method to the overly melodramatic
Airports are fun places
Like Disneyland without the costume
And the exorbitant fee
As one watches anxious departures
Longing arrivals
Enthusiastic meetings
Frantic waves
Inspired exchanges
Insipid queries
Sheer exuberance of a guy who’s been standing in one spot for a solid hour
Suicidal looks on others
Murderous intent
Weary businessmen in sweaty suits puffing on their long-awaited nicotine
Expectant cabbies
Bored security
Touts with plans
Touts without any plans
Another day at the job serving mundane menu for ‘who gives a fuck’ vendors
Couldn't careless salesmen
The airport is like a country in a perpetual state of transit where everyone coming in or going out are meaningful citizens on their way to work around the world
It’s probably the closest thing we have come to a Utopian state because nobody lives there, yet everyone comes around and gets high on differing planes

Flat Points:

I've stopped hating anything
It’s too exhausting
Plus the novelty of screaming new expletives has kind of worn out
Almost depleted
We must work on that part of the vocabulary
And being unable to love, a natural self-sustaining resource, is a problem as it is without the added aggravation of breathing in or spitting out what is the most venomous toxin known to mankind- hatred and its self-sustaining resources


*We never have to worry about forgetting to remember anything that is self-serving; although the opposite requires constant reminders

*If it serves your purpose, a man will bury all pride and prejudice


*Without twitter, dolly said she’d been a lonesome dove

*Without Facebook, Kojackski would still be a recluse. Now he is positively a social butterfly

Singled Out:

It must be my looks
I always get security folks concerned
Then we talk about shitty lives, greedy loves and twisted morals
Sometimes we make exceptions and talk about Shakti Kapoor
Exchange names
Shake hands and part friends

Who's There?

Contrary to stereotypes
The ‘Fuck It’ philosophy is concerned with everything
Including giving and receiving a fuck


Deep disappointments
Must be churned into vile bile
And spat out
Or spewed out
Cleansing the innards


Man is a walking talking parody of self-fulfilling paradoxes of sinfully ironic proportions
When the irony is found all wet and wrinkled
You laugh till you drop and pop
The irony!

Fare Well:

You resist but bid some goodbyes and farewells with wearied hearts 
as much as you detest looking forward to some hellos and hiyas 
with secret riddance 
and open escapades

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!