Thursday, November 24, 2011

AC/FC: The band!

For once I stayed up;
after all, it was Milan's
honour this day
to host the Band,
but not of the Billboard charts
nor one for grannies or Grammy...

... Still they eased those average teens

from the second third n fourth worlds
to change channels and 
their obsession with
tanned beach babes
and their samba; 
or the dreams of a night out,
dancing to cocaine with a Sabatini,
a tango under the silver moon
by the Rio de la Plata.

Now they all sway to

the smooth flow from a 
Spanish guitar strummed by
a Nou-bred Argentine,
tuned to perfection
in a proud Catalan dream.

3.20 in the morn here,

six hours ahead of
that smile from Xavi,
the Italians mourn;
but the tears thrill 'em all
as the boards sang anthems
in flashy neon:
3-2 it is for Barcelona.

The boys kept their stripes all,

earned a few more,
Milan in Black and Red,
while Green lights adorn
the glittering Palau Blaugrana,
the hues and the many phews!

(Thoughts during the UEFA Champions League classic between AC Milan and FC Barcelona yesterday...)

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Saturday Qualifying

Sir Stewart smiled,
the knight's many chequered flags
spark the V8 that
powers his young eyes,
wrapped in a magic weave
of proud Scottish sunshine.
Schumi did part his lips too,
so did Vettel and the young-uns,
at posers with magic drumsticks
and jokers with rusty, septic swords.
... It gave them orgasms!
Hell yeah, it did...
While o'er the counter quotes
eased the pain in their lower gut from
paraphrasing the one-and-a-half minute long
lap dances, the misery and mystery of it all.
And the tycoon chose to eat while
they blew his trumpet.
Night, the city lit up with
headlamps rushing home.
The delivery boys readied
a rich spread on the dinner table.
A li'l more than four hundred
words got laid on the front page
for the pleasure of millions.
Out came whorish squeals on Facebook;
from the dark lanes
it made its way to the pit-lane
and the paddock behind.
Three days of timeout
from rum n coke in a tainted glass,
to champagne in a circus flute.
Then there were rumours
of multiple pleasure,
beside the pit-lane exit,
in sync with the downshifts
into the opening corner.
More a sigh than a cry,
from an Italian lady in red;
as she climbed towards newer
heights of ecstasy, beyond the second corner;
round n round, hips and laps.
They all qualified for
a Sunday party,
while I made the grid for a hike,
after a Saturday high!

(I was also present at the Buddh International Circuit in Greater Noida for the inaugural F1 Indian GP. Yeah, the ‘mystery and misery of it all’...)

Sunday, November 06, 2011

Room for more!

Shipbuilders, ’em southerners
are busy with their hull...
It belongs not to them,
the Iron, nor the hammer
they use to bring percussion
to the fore in an orchestra
conducted by a very tall,
old man in Red tux.

Hey, I too can float,
an airtight skull sets sail;
a few shots down the vein
and I'm on my desk,
making a couple of pages,
before forgetting the stanzas of a 
good dream... I never take notes!
Visions never appear on paper either!

Slow n steady on two wheels
I come back to reality,
watching my beloved's concrete bosom glow,
revelling in the attention from the sun,
the naughty old westerner
trying to woo his favourite gal,
a white-skinned one on stilettos,
to spend the night with him.

He fixes the spotlight on her;
sad, so sad, he is setting,
a temporary death,
or is it just twilight sedation
for doctors to work on him
and he comes out again the morrow,
young and handsome to date her again,
the soap opera continues!
View from my sixth floor room east window at Medical Trust Hospital in Kochi

(Thoughts from my hospital bed in Kochi, on the view from my sixth floor room, my trip under sedation and the setting sun...)