Funky Flying Suit

A boy in man’s clothing,

That was all he was,

A little to eager to love,

A little to eager to trust

Not quite one of us,

But there was a look in his eye,

A dream of bigger, better things,

A silent wish to fly

We all laughed and scorned him,

Oh, what a stupid ambition,

It’s just like a child to have a whim,

That will never come to fruition

He said that he would prove us wrong,

Before the year was done,

That though he was young, his will was strong,

And he would show everyone

One day, many moons thereafter,

Amid jeers, cat-calls and laughter,

He stood before us ugly brutes,

In his funky flying suit

He jumped into the ravine,

His wings caught the wind,

And for a moment,

He did fly

Then the draft gave out,

And though he did flap about,

He hit the ground with a splat,

And died

Sleeping

1. 
   

No matter what they say,

I know you’re just sleeping,

Just a tad caught up,

In the land of dreaming

I know its all okay,

So I won’t be grieving,

Thought it worries me a bit,

That you’re not breathing

When you awake,

We will make,

Our joyful escapades,

Laugh and tumble in the sun,

Bask in moonlit serenades,

Just open up your eyes,

Just smile at me,

Even a smirk,

Would make me happy

Why do they pick you up,

To disturb your slumber?

Why do they lay you out,

In the funeral parlour

No matter what they say,

I know you’re just sleeping,

I’ll save you yet, my love,

Before the worms start eating

The Hero

What makes a hero? What makes their stories so appealing to masses. I mean, we’ve all had those moments no matter how cynical or jaded we are, you just hear about someone that just makes you stop in your tracks, and perhaps even changes your perception of life just a little bit. For me, it was this guy I saw on CNN Heroes(an award ceremony that honours ordinary people who reach for and achieve the extraordinary), and that dude is now my idol. Sorry Bats.

His name is Horge Munez. They call him the “Superman of Roosevelt Avenue”. He’s just a normal, stereotypical US Latino, big family, low income, working as a bus driver. Then one day he sees these people by the roadside, weary, and dejected. He does something that I think none of us would do, he asks them if they are hungry. They are odd job workers, homeless men and women who on a work to live basis. They hang around the corner hoping for a job to come their way. As he puts it, “ No job, no food,”. So he asks them to be there around 6-7 in the evening, and he tells them that he will bring them something to eat. He goes back home and cooks up something for them to eat. Amazing, no? Then isn’t ever so much more that he continues to do so every single day until today, feeding hundreds of homeless people from that very same corner? He didn’t have to do it. They weren’t his kith or kin, but he cared for them and helped them out the best he could. He works a full day and comes home to cook for 200-300 people with just the help of his family. That’s selfless, people, genuine charity.

When he steps up, he thanks the donors who have enabled him to keep helping the needy. Then he says, “ I would like to thank my sister who stayed at home to make sure that even though I’m here to accept this award, no one will go hungry tonight.”

The Maths Teacher

This is a really stupid poem I wrote about my form 2 maths teacher. Yes the Vguy was cynical even then.

She walks in carrying a freaking compass,

Gives so much homework, I say F*** us,

Give us sums that are way above us,

She never skips a class,

maths everyday, what a blast.

I'm losing it, and losing it fast,

Where once I got A's

now I barely pass,

My marks plummet and crash

She says 1+1 is two,

But I know that ain't true,

Cause 1+1 is three,

No it's not,

What wrong with me?

She is my maths teacher,

More horrible than any mythical creature,

Shes the maths teacher, the very worse,

I feel I've been cursed

I don't know how but she gets to me,

Answers that are plain I just can't see,

She is old but she thinks she sexy,

Tight blouses and skirts that are mini,

I feel like puking,

you would too believe me,

I laugh so loud it hurts me.

Beauty

Beauty. A word, a quantity that he knew all to well, for was he not a master of it? It did not take much skill criticise and condemn the state of the world, but it took considerably more to peel back the dull exterior and reveal the beauty that just beneath.

He captured the beauty of the mundane and everyday with the deft strokes of his brush, creating something that was truly magical. He was an eternal optimist, seeing hope and life where others only saw death and dismay. Yes, he was an artist. An artist whose paintings hung in galleries next to those of Da Vinci and Van Gogh. His paintings held the hearts of the world enthralled and sold for millions, and yet he lived a modest life, donating much of what he earned to charity.

It is amazing how one man could understand and interpret beauty with such clarity and honesty, even more so when entire life had been so full of ugliness. He born deformed, with malformed features and stunted legs. His parents abhorred him, viewing his deformity as an affront to their well breeding. He fared no better in school, becoming the brunt of the jokes and malice of his classmates. But he did despair, as many of us would have. Instead of letting it overwhelm him, he took all the pain and frustration he felt and brought them to his canvas, using them to create paintings of heart-wrenching beauty.

He made up for what he lacked in appearance with his kind and gentle character. He made many good friends who valued his sincerity, in a time when it was a scant commodity. He also found love, with someone who knew how to look beyond appearances too.

I asked him once, about the secret to his success. He replied that it was his deformity. Living as he did in a world of spite and discrimination, only made those rare moments of kindness and love seem ever the more beautiful to him. So, he painted not for the money or the fame and acclaim. He painted simply to show the world that there is beauty everywhere, if only we choose to see it.

He passed away a few months ago and the world mourned the passing of a good man. An “ugly” man whose only legacy was one of true beauty.

Gloomy

The sky is dark and cloudy,

The world's in shades of grey,

It is all set out to be,

A beautiful gloomy day,

The shines not to hot,

The wind blows not too cold,

Just that kind of lazy day

That rejuvenates your soul,

Though clouds may darken sky,

but no worries cloud your head,

As you lay there safe and warm,

In the comfort of your bed,

Though summer days are great and all,

I think it'd be so cool,

If gloomy days were the norm,

Instead of the exception of the rule

You...

You've
Got me lost in a quagmire,

Of contrasting,

feelings and desires,

You're beautiful,

That alone is true,

Amongst the lies,

You've woven around you,

and against my common sense,

I'm falling,

Slowly but surely

Temptation,

That's just what you are,

I've gotta stop,

Before I go too far,

And embrace the velvet darkness,

Forsaking the light of stars

Just take it in,

Says the voice inside my head,

We're puppets on a string,

We go where we are led,

Perhaps its fated,

When all things are done and said,

Boy,you're scintillated,

Just do the deed that must be done,

You're damned,

But at least you'll have fun,

There are worse ways to hell,

Than loving a fallen angel,

Like you