Elongated Musk

Mr. Elongated Musk, as former fanboy,

I now think your lore is greater than your tusk

I wonder if you'll change

your point of view

if you realise

we're just primates

who happen to wear clothes

on our way to the pearly gates

I don't know why

Silicon Valley is gaga

about sending a Tesla

into space. Ha ha.

What a waste of talent,

Mr. Elongated Musk

You could perhaps

with that king sized brain

literally train

so many people to change

their own lives and the world's pain

But you build a driverless car

and go too far

and even if you do

go to Mars

do take a breath and pause

perhaps ask

what's the cause?

You might say its to ensure humanity's safety

from polluting you and me

A Plan B

after destroying Planet E

Is that really clever, Mr. Musk

or do you know something more

than all of us?

I used to like you,

Mr. Elongated Musk

until I saw that intelligence

and courage and heart

Live in separate worlds.

And while the fanboys will vehemently

shout down a naysayer like me

I want to like you again, Elon

Please come down to earth again

Let's rebuild what we have and gain.

The Scientific Method

One day,

The Scientist and the Philosopher

met at a bar
(if you think this is a joke,
you're going too far)

The topic at hand was not Atheism or God

Nor was it about religion

It was, quite surprisingly,

their failure with money and women

I believe in the Scientific method,

said the Philosopher bitterly

but look where its got me

he said accusingly

I'm stuck in my head

sleep alone in my bed

All my deep ideas

remain pleas

for someone to notice me

and that happens very infrequently..

I believe in the Joy of Discovery,

said the Scientist

and I'm sure you'll get the gist

when I report that

he told the other guy

his pending patent

had made someone else richer

and gave him a nice ulcer.

Just then the barkeep came to them

what'll it be then

"Gin for his depression

and rum for my frustration"

said the Science man

"and keep separate tabs"

said the mournful Philosopher

Just as his sad eyes spotted her

Across the room

"The witch forgot her broom"

said he

TheScientist who had

also been rejected by her

nodded sagely

As they downed their joint account

of depression and frustration,

the Philosopher said

"I'm getting out of here

Take a contemplative walk

In the city"

The Scientist waited till he left

Got out his notes from his phone

studied them for a while

made a new entry: Attempt 7

as he carried out his new experiment

to get to heaven.

He approached her, with a non stalker smile

said its been quite a while

that you last rejected me

after which

I've got half a promotion

and a citation

for my almost exemplary work

will that work

for you to have a drink with me?

Results of the latest experiment

are still awaited

Although early signs seem promising

She had a drink and let him sing

his song of courtship to her

and had left the bar with him..

April's Voting Fools

Left, Right, Left, Right

All my friends on Facebook

think of democracy

with all their might

Left= Bad

Right=Wrong,

Everyone's election game

Right on song

Up, Down, Down, Up

We all wait

for The market and the elevator

to create their storm

In a teacup

People perfectly reasonable

a few months ago

unrecognisable

with the new logo

they sport

as they court

a date on the calendar

when they'll vote.

Where they'll be vindicated

or not

After which whether they'll have angst

or not

for the next five years

is yet unclear

And while there won't be

any tears

they'll be outrage

as people in a cage

argue about freedom

with all their wisdom.

Please do vote, of course, whatever your gripe

or forever smoke the peace pipe.

The Closet Optimist

Every time I see a spark

of hope in me

I feel crushed.

Nope.
I will not have this beautiful feeling
of both unease and joy
Dictate my life
only to have me reeling
At the last moment,
As clouds of doubt seeded
From both skeptic and cynic
Makes me wonder-
is this still worth it?

The startup that wasn't supported

The project that wasn't funded

The relationship that never got the right chance

The health that did a deadly dance

All seemingly bright and beautiful

at first glance?

My reluctance as an optimist

Perhaps is a silent tribute

to all those left in the mist

With A Bewildered face

and an Angry Fist

That's shaking at the world

as they get hurled.

Many of us, then,

The other garden variety of dreamers

The closet optimists

We won't get taken to the cleaners.

We believe in the goodness of a thing

As we wait for the rest of the damn world

To get the right neurons firing

But hope we won't

Although

Dreaming we can't avoid

We accept the non acceptance

with equanimity if not poise.

Poem for poets who wrote a poem on #poetryday

Good lord,

We have a poetry day too

And if my dog made some poo..

We'll toast that moment hard
I'm sure you have a clue
where I'm going with this?
I'd give this day a miss
( with apologies to all
who wrote good stuff today:
this is still a diss)

Relax, sir. Relax, Ma'am.

Just a meaningless rant

on the strange creation

of super meaningful days

that could wither away with

a deep gaze

At them, but still

We simply need the memes

Need that gate-pass

Need that permission slip

Can't celebrate life

without themes.

And here I am,

as I contribute to the banal

As if I'd rather have a root canal

(now that's trite, but just out of spite)

Smirking from my pulpit

at the monkey tribe below

not knowing

that the tribe below

is the schizophrenic version

of my own reflection.

Happy Poetry day, then, everyone.

Story

What's your Story

today, as you stir

What'll make you blur
the bad tidings
Face the music
of another day?

Better make your tale

strong and true

Lord of your manor, are you

or the hapless victim

of a crime

Playing a bit role

An Extra

in your own life?

Whatever it is

sure your story has layers untold

And plays out in technicolor

(well, at least in silver and gold)

Oh wait. I forgot. Today,

you got up on the wrong side

and found no story

that kicked in

Fear crawled up your skin

Without that soothing balm

without that justification

How will you ever

take any action?

With nothing at all in your damn head

you climb down the stairs

You look at others in despair

You find no real people

just ghosts with stories

with their angst and their glories

Just walking around, doing this and that

But when you talk to them

it comes out pat

My life. My relationship.

My money. My bad hip.

So interesting, so tiresome

for sure there's no outcome

For a person without a story

is a story without a person

Outsourced

Ive outsourced

my heart, my mind, my memory,

my life
I'm in too deep
my smartphone's
got me by the jewels

I've outsourced

my past, my future

my present's sutured

up by a distant cloud

apparently there's an app for this

and there's an app for every that.

I've outsourced

my skill, my motivation,

my drive

I'm a happy little piggy

on Netflix and Prime

I've outsourced

every possible way I exist

and yet I do?

Must be something like love

that I can't outdo.

Maybe there's reluctant Hope

that I can't outsource too

And maybe Dreams

although getting someone to work

on my plans will do

Perhaps all the outsourcing

Finally helps me and you

Find a moment that's true

and use currency that's real

About time too?

Errorism

To err is to sin

And to sin is to miss the mark.

Mark these words:

Easy to say

Tough to live by.

For any Errorist.

He'll give it his best

Whatever cause he's fighting for

(and mostly it's a him. Give it a rest)

.

Guess the Errorist must realise

that it's a short life

and a long knife

won't give it any more meaning.

Not stunning as a realisation

People are saying these things

on every TV station.

Me, with no skin in this game

You, I don't know how much flesh

We've both not given much

to any cause we celebrate

Perhaps the Errorist

missed his mark

Ironically, when he ensured that

he nailed his target and made it flat

He made people like us angry

confused, out of their comfort zone

We looked for meaning and found none

Embittered, but without teeth,

We snap and growl with every sound byte

We give pompous advice

and sound real nice

when we make wise statements

about strategy and choice

Tomorrow,

it will be the Kardashians.

And we'll be the Errorists.

The Workout

Dawn- hustle, bustle, begin the tussle

Sleep deprived; not worth the hassle?

Au Contraire.

Every effort at the local gym
makes my heart ready and my body limp
with fatigue. Good fatigue,
one might say
( though this is not really going the six pack way)

Fatigue that puts air conditioning in my head

for the day's heat ahead

Drowning out anguish,

kicking anxiety's butt

Slapping self pity's creep

Letting me breathe

Breathe in, go slow

Breathe out, there's the effort

Sometimes, it doesn't hurt as much

sometimes, a bit too much

Doesn't matter

Its not the body I'm healing

It's all in the head

Hustle, bustle, begin the tussle

here we go again

The secret I'm beginning to get:

The pain's really the gain.

Sobriety

Morning:

It was a meek, milky

blue sky
calling out
to say hi.

Hmm. So so long,
its been
that I saw a streak of white
race across my sight

It was passing jet fuel

posing as cloud

Look at me,

it screamed aloud

I'm going, I'm going

and you ain't with me

I figured that

It must've been some big journey

that a past self had been on

Well, the jet's gone and so has that man.

Noon:

Thought to myself

If it was a Jet

and I didn't see it

Maybe the sky was better

without it?

Sour Grapes always taste better

when they aren't w(h)ine.

Jets without traces

Leave no trace of crime

Evening:

The thought moved me and my day

along with it

till it became quiet night

I looked up for my next no- surprise.

(The city's bright glow

tends to overflow

and filters out factors

like stars and other non-actors)

Night:

Dust settled,the stars came on

with feeble might

wasn't even a fight

with attractive streets

and other pretty sights

But memory took over

and maybe closer

to things still sore.

Of course, it felt much more

As i replaced the sky I was seeing

With the sky I'd seen before

Mesmerised, I wondered

If this is what it is to be sober

Then I'd go beyond October(!)

and look at newer things

with older eyes

and older things

with younger guise.

to be (hopefully) continued...