The Wise Little Cat

Aww, little kitty cat,

Thanks for making me realise,

That it’s important to stop a bit,

And smell the flowers nice.

 

Hoomans are dumb, so very, very dense,

They tend to forget the important stuff,

But as long as we’ve got you around,

I think that should be reminder enough!

 

So, let’s prance and play and dance a bit

Climb the roof, get stuck in trees.

Curl up in the sun, catch a snooze,

And shrug of our cares, just live free!

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

Delhi summers, poem about Delhi summers

Delhi Burning … !

When Amrita Arora shook her hips to the song that paid tribute to “Dilli ki sardi” (translated, the Winters of Delhi), two thoughts struck my mind. One, “What a God awful song that is!” and two, “They are dragging the wrong season into limelight.” If there is anything that is dreaded about Delhi (apart from the startling increase in the crimes against women) and the tomfoolery that passes for driving skills in this city, it is the duration between May and September.

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Excuse Me, Could you Fall for My Charm, Please?

Women have always fascinated me, especially the kind who believe their looks, beauty, clothes, style, makeup and accessories make the world go round; those who are of the opinion that they’re God’s gift to mankind. Let me change that – they firmly believe that they’re God’s gift to mankind. After all, opinions suggest that they can be changed, but beliefs … in India? Ha ha ha, good luck!

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funny poem, poetry, bad boss

Die Boss, Die!

My first post on my (not first) blog was meant to be something entirely different. Certainly not this weird poem that (upon reading a couple times) seems to be pornographic content for a sadist. When I read it out to a few of my friends, they all shifted gingerly in their seats, sporting a look that suggested they were uncomfortably close to a live bomb.

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