the pepon tale

mistaken for a squash, I am a ribbed smooth rind

my eldest brother now weighs a dozen times you

of irish tales, to me the devil  and jack, not so kind

tropicana of albus’ folks,  my juice is mirth though.

from pie, yaqtin, kadu, tempura, dessert and ravioli

i travel the world west to east, boiled baked roasted

also for massiveness game, my masters so boasted

last not least, trebuchets test the chucking out of me.

mostly  second third rainbow hues, glowing in thoughts

pity the southern ocean never sees me, all others do

nine tenth aqua, source for definitely something i am

favorite of witches, my self-proclaimed nativity is illinois.

spooktacular,  baby boo & bear, sweetie pie, jack-be-quick

the moron carried me all his life, argh..devil. jack’o lantern

brains squashed, hallows evening carves me with million faces,

glimmering scary, welcome to the tale of  yours truly, a pumpkin.

neither the door stop, nor the attic please, after the night

either to eat or for fusion trials, too i am not best served;

inter i bless the earth, genesis from the pepitas sounds good, 

for produce great pumpkins, and the pies will follow.

for like men, either all of our good ones are taken 

or everything scraped out of our head with a spoon..

bus geniuses

a couple of weeks back, I was travelling to my office in the bus, an amusing thing happened. the bus reached an intermediate transit center, behind a county school/kindergarten bus which broke down or something. the result, about 15 kids with their moms, hopped into the bus.

i was sitting in the last row, with a full view of the bus, scenery on my left/right and music as usual. the following words are the next 20 minutes in that bus.

as the moms settled, the murmur, heat and arguments started fading,

like marbles rolling on the floor, they dribbled around the front cabin;

the sudden brake, the teddy bear bag tethered fellow started trembling

pablo rolled with his crayons, paint hands  etching on his slate, a goblin.

not just me, affixed were all on the holocaust events up and happening,

as planck scratched the cat’s ears with a bill, after Schrödinger’s this is it!

while johhny bravo checked her out, new gen learning fast, is that it?

freud with his lego bricks, just explained what cathexis is, so brightening.

in times of war, britney’s feat brushing the barbie , couldn’t be overlooked

so was newton’s disbelief, on how the whole mass moved with a small sole;

sylar stabbed the note with the pencil, hiro made the mickey watch stop,

she just sat, nodding, wobbly, swinging her legs, swaying monitor cut cool. 

as one was eating and just looking around, ah, that is our John & Jane

amidst the geniuses, I thought he was our quintessential common one

the tube light kid, the ‘Observer’ I guess, sat there, alienated amused

that’s our stupid blogger,  giving me a cold stare, the silence and recluse.

staring at one of the note-books, that was our red eye glassed to-be geek,

who is this, stephen kneeling on seat, sipping n looking out of the window,

mozart frantically tapped his feet in seat support, fists in the poles sleek,

as all the exemplary activities, accomplice-d by their  so noisy crescendo.

abruptly the task force was interrupted, the props being packed

as a new bus, awaited them in the next transit center, all sacked,

cast spell of those minutes vanished, in front of me, sanity returned

dread faded, arguments, work, worries, maths resumed, continued..

be like you are

he is pretentious, so to look apparently, maybe he is

elevated state of monotony, confined to himself, he is

egotistical, for there’s still ‘me’ in team, not ‘I’, he says

the weird zombie, within his mind, so inactive it stays.

brilliant to converse when he does, flaky disinterest often,

indifference shields him all the way, i’m not sure how that often,

so much uneasiness, what is the point in knowing him deep,

stateless it may seem, outright or the thoughts go so deep.

the circle of chores, why does he stem on the notes and words

what about the rest, what about the idiosyncrasies of the worlds

phlegmatic, obsessed,  intransigent, no I disagree with the words

so unlike that, yet no efforts to change perception, never any words.

what drives, any idol, what path, self-defined so to the core

fear of dependency not, how can that be true, has to fail somewhere

looks like a parallel thought so often, yet spotless the next sentence

self-sufficiency doesn’t exist, no one can have that perseverance.

what meets the eye is strange, why am I so much into him

i still think i am not, but why my interest in the first place, whim

queer, right, how so young with those wits, stark contrast with peers

for I felt the calm, with him, yet he never is the same as all others.

so many better but for him, yet my deepest thought drags me to him

so much many offer to him, walks away never even being there

of all the touch, glory, words he shuns, makes me wonder, mind of him

yet he stays onto those, inanimate too explicable, something is not fair.

words break before summarizing, not what he can be, all the time

yet the facets, craving, is he even aware of those things all the time

thousand words, one glance smile, unsung genius, not so flaky

for all these, still so different, standing unique.. not ever a bit flaky..

.. the girl and her words