My friend Rajit posted a poem in his blog the seeker's thoughts, with the title ‘you get to name it’. It was a dull afternoon, and I thought I’d write a comment for him, because feedback always has livened me up, whether I give it, or receive it.
But what started out innocuously went on to occupy more space than his poem…
This was his post…you get to name it.
When I fall my final fall
and get my trial before the divine,
What I did before the final call
insignificant though, with this life of mine.
Can I be proud? Can I stand tall?
Or did I just indulge in food and wine?
Will He smile, or frown at my life so small
And tell to try again and fall back in line?
Is this it or is this all?
Give me direction. Give me a sign...
This is the result of a lonely day and me lost in thought. more to follow soon and you my dear reader, I reserve you the right to name it. Until I find my writing self again, bye for now.
{The following is the comment that appears by me...}
“
Hey there... good exercise in rhyming, and good poem... I'll call it 'Angst'... Was reading it again, and it was a lonely day here too... so I tried to get into the skin of a guy who could write something like this... and then imagine what more he'd write, if HE were feeling bored, had just listened to a dozen rap songs, and wanted to amuse himself by sticking with the first rhyme that came up...
And this turned out...
... Thought I'd give it here, right along with the inspiration...
'Angst', Part II
{This is a bit longer than what appears on the blog...}
I sit back and let the unrest unfold,
hear it tell me what I've myself told...
For sprouting this angst, which seeds did I sow?
Bruised by blows from fixtures that break the flow
of the path that I had chose to fol-low
Is this the way to light, or is that glow
from a will-o'-the-wisp that marks woe?
Or sparks from the chair at the end of a Death Row?
No hope springs from my hearts' fields fal-low
when I go there, and into them I throw
what others say is the intelligence that I show,
that makes me differ from your average Joe.
I feel locked in, how the hell can I grow?
I'm boxed in, by lines that they say I must toe.
They give you blinders, you run when they say 'go'
They tell you - "there is gold at the end of the rain-bow"
(that they've drawn from the blood of an imaginary foe)
"This is 'competition', as you bloody well ought to know"
(Just like 'constipation'), "it gets uncomfortably tight, so tally-ho!"
You get your a$$ whipped if you're too slow
They scare you so much you laugh at E.A. Poe.
You run till your spine feels like it’s made of jell-o
and your face is an unhealthy shade of yel-low
with green and red mixed in for effects very mel-low
You want some air, but you hear your voice bel-low
"Can't stop, don't stop, see that other fel-low
He's catching up, and not just to say 'Hel-lo'
He's gonna be on top, and you'll be be-low
(That's being Desdemona, at least be Othel-lo)"
Just a while ago, this guy was your bro
But this is a rat-race, you gotta be a pro
Push and shove some, to others kow-tow
When madness reigns, be an outright psy-cho
You don't wanna be outta a job, a ho-bo
Cutting up grass in some farm with your hoe
Idealism was just for when you were cal-low
You gotta get the dough,
for the banks that you now owe
Holdin' up a crummy life over thoughts shal-low
Life's music becomes a monotonous tremo-lo
played to the ears of a insensitive buffa-lo
Hiding horns in the glare of a self-made ha-lo
However you F$#* up, its just a peccadil-lo
Life's rich, and it's a bitch, just be its gigo-lo...
And all these truths are too hard to swal-low.
After realizing them, I can't spit 'em away so...
Feel like a 'yo-yo' stuck halfway up at 'yo'..
No drink's deep enough to drown my sor-row
And my discomfiture is tho-rough
o, o o, o o.....
[{... and just so that this senseless rhyming may now cease
(before it goes into decline and disease
already the crowd is going ' Stop, Please'...)
I'll tell you.. the sound of 'o' is the reprise...}
...I'll stop, I see your lips yawn, form an 'o'
I still could go on, I tell all of yo
I still had Violoncello, Apollo
Osho, Oslo,and Abbott and Costello… ] ”
:P
P.S.: I had to wrap it up when I did... there were too many rhymes coming up...
So long, January 2011…
