• Crass No Yar Sk

    Where has the mystery gone, do you know you’re just a pawn?
    Do you see it in London or in Berlin?
    God tell me where have you been?
    Who stole it from you, my queen?

    Give it back to me, I need the romance to be
    Going back to memories, to carouse in it,
    Who had the sun ask them come out?
    Where were the kids who did not shout?
    Spin my mind in, fill my soul jug to the brim,
    Show me ten ways of love, nothing to light the stove,
    All the lights are off, a fat man with his cough,
    Fingers on his phone, swiping up alone

    Crass, your fucking grace

    Go to therapy you said, have you ever fucking shed?
    Ain’t no one going to their friends’ anymore
    Do you even have money to rent a home?
    The aristocrats are drinking beer in London and NYC
    Wake up at seven every morning,
    Making your shitty meal, on your fucking kneel,
    All the lights are off, your ugly face aloft,
    Fingers on your phone, swiping up alone

    Crass, your fucking grace

    I’m checking a bower on the map, always another app,
    It’s got four point two, from I don’t know fucking who
    I’m on WhatsApp with you, texting our pursue
    Plop, hey its another URL, this never ending carousel
    You’re on their agenda girl, but nah you ain’t their pearl,
    You’ve got your soul jug filled to the fucking brim
    Fingers on your phone, swiping up alone

    Crass, your fucking grace

    What does the magic box tell you today
    Like it thinks it knows your DNA
    Ain’t no one but you my dear
    Don’t let the aristocrats drink your beer

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  • Tomorrow is a New Dawn

    First the feeble pinky, then its wretched kin
    The blood seeped in a twisted bezier
    For eons, the veil of age concealed my terror
    As I shriek in a voice not my own
    A legion of howls painted the sky ghastly red
    For dinner, the broth of tormented toes
    Tomorrow is a new dawn
    Said I to myself
    Tomorrow is a new dawn

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  • The Red Skies of Wants Thunder

    The red skies of wants thunder
    Thunder in my mind
    Thunder in my blood
    Thunder through my bones

    Who bet the mind for a turtle?
    I’ll recede my senses
    When I see the red skies of wants
    Torrential pain in a vortex

    Hey thunder
    When will you get to my last body?
    I’ll wait
    I’ll want

    A thousand white sperm rain
    Thundering through the red skies of want
    Thunder in my mind
    Thunder in my blood
    Thunder through my bones

    My thunder corrupts your innocence
    You’d rather be away
    I’m a fucking lion turtle
    Look up and stay away
    ‘cause I’m a red sky of want

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  • The Song of the Raging Sea

    Only the tumult of a raging sea,
    rocking our boats to places it needn’t be,
    who dares whisper a few good words and conciliate?
    For mighty is her resolve, and feeble her invaders.

    I

    Beating against our aged wooden hulls,
    her stories she forces us listen,
    of conquerors who’ve tried quelling her ire
    and soldiers who wished not to partake.
    Songs of past surface under the raging storm,
    as she cries louder into the setting sun,
    and our vessels are but dumb dots,
    lost in a mighty gale, drifting away with no desire.
    The heavens gather, to listen to her fables,
    that which needs be told to every sailor passing.
    She sings, in a majestic low soprano,
    that the men have made merry in her midst,
    carrying goods of war and crime,
    that her song is the only redemption, she roars
    in a frightening contralto.

    II

    The old few those who’ve listened with care,
    warned us of her ire before we sailed away.
    Like seasons weathering old rocks to dust, their lore,
    distant and washed away,
    little did the forgotten wisdom give us hand,
    our wet faces, now bereft of any realization,
    piecing the parts only to fail.
    In the frantic cadence of her waves,
    in her wild cosmic dance,
    in the fearful tremors of her ballad,
    we solemnly pray for the tale to twist our way,
    to the young and true, she’ll say,
    listen again, listen again!
    That your understanding of this divine tale,
    of man and his destiny shall see the light of day.

    III

    In a desperate bid for a final confluence,
    we merged a raft from parts of the now wrecked hull.
    She is the canvas for our dreams,
    in her we float free like in our mothers’ wombs,
    her story too ambitious to comprehend, we let go,
    and like a violin soundtrack to God’s elegy,
    her rage turns to deep sorrow.
    The last voice of this universe,
    like the distant hymns of a hindu sage,
    she sings the song of the raging sea.

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  • Algorhythm

    With O of N in mind, I started right,
    To see the code, was no ordinary sight!
    Write I did, and compiled it too,
    Error it said, Oh now I have no clue.

    So now I used more time and space,
    N squared it became, and I did a stack trace.
    Debug and Recompile, now well and done,
    Oh this is sure going to be fun.

    In GNU/Linux I believed, and execution began
    Oh you should have seen how the code ran!
    The system sung the song I wrote,
    Its beauty and brilliance, I will not gloat.

    _____________________________________________________

    I wrote this in today’s Data Warehousing and Mining theory class.

    Was sure a sleepy day. :)

    I lead a fun life, don’t I?

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  • The stupidity of Mr. Mangam

    In those universes where they lived,
    where time and space weren’t a thing,
    Mr. Mangam was the supreme being,
    A God full of awe and power to the lowly mortals.

    These mortals never aged, no they didn’t,
    because poor Mr. Mangam forgot to create time!
    Without time how will they ever live and die?
    Oh this is all very bad indeed.

    So Mr. Mangam, now erred ofcourse,
    believed in spirit and soul and for death he thought,
    He thought and thought and did, for ways in which he’d kill,
    kill those mortals, because they were called just so.

    Funny that but, Mortals do not die now?
    Oh Mr. Mangam, you are indeed Mr. Stupidity now.
    Comical it may seem, there were dire consequences
    Fathers and sons fought, and fought, and fought.

    Brothers and sisters forgot that they were, and Mothers,
    no longer remembered their own sons,
    But wait a minute Mr Mangam said,
    how can mortals who don’t die forget the past when there’s no time?

    Bugged by his creation, Mr. Mangam did decide,
    to beyond he’ll travel and consult the all-knowing,
    the all-knowing was the supreme creature,
    for it was the one earthlings label as the creator of the cosmos.

    Who is he? Where is he? What is he?
    These spiraled in Mr. Mangam’s thinking organ.
    But unfortunately for him, he didn’t have one.
    The illusion of thinking without thinking, is a rare art indeed.

    So Mr. Mangam does find out about the all-knowing,
    And he travels to Heavens that are beyond the known universe,
    where his sources say, lie Mr. Supreme Creator of Cosmos dude,
    In a deep meditation, so deep that the mind is one with the body.

    But Mr. Mangam had to travel through and through forever
    and ever forever, because from where he came, time was, remember?
    Space wasn’t a thing too, right? Er, what?
    Confusing it may seem, there is stark simplicity about this, hear.

    Travel through space, takes time correct?
    Travel through time, takes space correct?
    But how does Mr. Mangam travel to the heavens?
    Truth isn’t the truth anymore, not that it is now, but is it?

    Aha, and Aha! Said Mr. Mangam,
    “You mortal who doesn’t die, will never know this trickery of space-time.
    Because when I created these universes without space-time, I didn’t really.”

    Did Mr. Mangam really create such a universe?
    Did he really come to meet whom we call God to correct his errors?
    We will never know for sure, will we?

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  • The Magnificent Fairy tale of the Oriental Roach.

    Stinky and sore in the eye
    the rat walked past the sewage of sin
    it was his world, his empire
    nobody would dare take it from him
    not even the wily cockroach of the east

    He had won the fight against him
    the ruler of the underworld,
    the great king of stink, Lord Lizard
    Now they looked at him in awe,
    for he was the lord of sin

    (Time Rewind by a few whatever..)

    The age, eons after a terrible nuclear war
    A holocaust too terrible to endure
    They had all been gone, forever.
    And a new age had begun
    The age of Roaches, Lizards and Rats

    Higher up in the cycle
    lived the lonesome lizards of the far north
    most terrific and awe-inspiring!
    rats and lizards and roaches of all parts
    went and seeked spiritual solace under them.

    And down under’ were the skippers of the east
    who could run an entire desert without a sweat
    Skill and honor balancing tightly on the rope
    They were hired by those cunning chinese roaches
    to terminate the ever calm lizards of the north

    War after war, Only now the rats untouched
    they were all too happy
    ushering in an underground civilization
    in a triumphant era of post-nuclear awesomeness
    They were feared for their secrecy and bloody wit

    And among these undergroundees, there was,
    a paladin of magnificence to be true
    His name, Rit the Ratter III, carrying a legacy
    on his back, unsubdued by the babbles of roaches
    and lizards, and a mundane conjecture of peace

    So, the allies of the roaches comes with a plan
    and propose to the spiritual lizards of the north
    Why quarrel amongst us, for this unfinished land
    while those bloody undergroundees endure as ever
    and usher in a golden glow sans gold

    Now, come to think of it said Lord Lizard
    the great king of the North,
    these skippers here have a good feet
    and the rattlers have promised us help
    we can take em down and bask in that glow (sans gold)!

    Don’t trust him said the Lord’s Uncle
    a great veteran of the war
    ‘Those cunning roaches won’t stop at nothin’
    said he, in his hushy tone as ever,
    ‘Now now uncle, don’t get carried away’ said Our Lord.

    Uncle Lizard had seen the Indians and Chinese talk
    he had been there and seen it all
    those roaches were the strongest and smartest of all
    and a billion of ’em overflowing the gullies and docks
    ‘we’ll never stand chance against them for sure’

    A treaty is a treaty and Lord agreed
    so the Roaches of the Orient
    with the support of the skippers from down under
    and Lord Lizard’s Glorious army
    went west to conquer the Magnificent Sewage of the Sin

    Now the story of The Sewage,
    is a heritage told by every mother to ‘er young one
    Its an honor, for those secret Rats
    and an honor is never to be questioned
    A long long time ago…

    There were idiots called humans
    and they killed themselves
    and with them they took all those trees and land
    and agriculture and rivers and blah etc blah
    all that remained were the underground Kingdoms

    The kingdoms formed a brilliant network
    of interconnecting passageways of the west
    as they were known by the roaches’
    Sewage of Sin, they fondly called it
    and how true it was.

    The Rats had an army, so strong
    that the roaches of the orient
    had feared them for long
    but sheer cockpower on their side
    and with the lizards and skippers too

    A chance they had to conquer the glow
    The glow that had eluded them for long
    Of food, sex and a lifestyle that was wrong
    young roaches and lizards signed up for the attack
    They planned it great, oh so very true

    Now Uncle of the Lord was made the Gambit pawn
    He was made to go talk to the Ratter III
    and comeout with a treaty that was horribly wrong
    The rats had to be the slaves of us
    or perish!

    Lord Lizard was frontline regiment
    he led the horrible huns of the east
    and the Wily Roach from India
    who was supposedly a wizard
    took the east flank of the tunnels

    Now, not agreeing to the proposal
    Rit the Ratter III, furious,
    Summoned his Invincible army of biting basterds
    The battle was looking horrible
    and a holocaust, the second was looming.

    It started, the battleground was bloody
    and deaths and sufferings were plenty
    Ratter led from front and took down the stink king
    Lord Lizard was defeated.
    ( This brings us to the scene where we started)

    He thought he was unconquerable
    but he hadn’t known
    for he was taken down by the wily roach
    in a magnificent display of art
    War, Peace, it didn’t matter no more

    The Roaches of the orient had won
    cunning, oh how cunning they were
    and now Lord Lizard was dead too
    Skippers and rattlers were loyal to ’em
    and Spiritual northies were under their rule

    The Rats, the lizards had come under
    a Monarchy, An empire built by those roaches
    An empire so vast and prosperous
    they had little or no hope
    It was sheer awesome power.

    (Fastforwarding the Clock by a few whatever..)

    Many eons had passed
    since the humans had perished
    and the lizards and rats had come under the
    roaches empire, a period of awe
    History was in the making.

    The headquarters in Eastern Himalayas
    They were the rice loving courtiers
    the roaches were a fine lot, they were
    politics, culture, sport, architecture
    an era of monetary ups!

    (Fastforward a little more…)

    Bang!
    Evolution!
    Sun Becomes Red giant!
    Earth No More!
    Darn! BUMMER!

    19 comments on The Magnificent Fairy tale of the Oriental Roach.

Hi, I’m Suhas. The below sculpture is not of me.

Marble statue of Sappho on side profile.