Our Chemistry

They say opposite charges do attract;
our love is proof. Our atoms interact
as in the chloride of Sodium. I am
the sodium- brawny, tall, of precise gram,
whereas, you are a lighter chlorine gas
in human form– a disproportional mass.
You’re like the Bunsen burner, and I Sodium,
I melt when I see you– like heavy opium,
you’d not be just a phase I’m passing through.
I’d trust you, thereby not keep an ion you.
Hell with calenders, you’d mark your periods
on a periodic table. No row void.
You’d be the base, titrated in joint
against my acid- we’d meet at the end point.
We’d say ‘I do’ as does an acid says
to its alkali, and proceed to the phase
where our salt inherits my eyes; your lips,
& vapourise away the dilution in drips.
We’d live together as crystals of rocks
that not death, even, saps such strong-held blocks.
You’d be Nitrogen molecules, and I
an atom of Oxygen, and we’d ally
to an undying laughter, hap and mirth,
to live against the miseries of the earth.

Sonnet: Grind us down with your problems

Keep grinding. Life’s supposed to be a bed
of roses. Oh, how we all feel for you, son.
Wish we could know what’s going on in your head.
Too bad- as all we always have is fun.
Advice? Visit a joint, greet, have your seat,
& order your afflictive local drinks.
They could be cheap, so DRINK! Do no quit
yourself away ’til your eyes cease to blink,
and your steps start to tramp. If these means fail,
bargain a very safe area, a stool,
a copious length of rope or bunchy veil–
(a team of simple and regular tools).
A wooden ceiling will do- one with hook,
or jump, head-down, into a shallow brook.

Sonnet: The Modern Poet Laments

Thou thinkest that this generation lacks
the purity & form of fallen Bards?
We sucketh. Thou art right. We play the cards
but stab the rules. We are as loose and lax
as diarrhoea. We apologise.
We shall discard our paragraphs and lines
of arguments & premises sublime,
& proceed to employ “methinks’ & ‘thys’,
because this is the fifteenth century.
May we submit to archaism now?
Très bien. When cliche shall besiege thy brow..
& move a little down to blind thy eye..

Forgive me, extempore gods of rhyme,
but I shall rhyme in the language of my time.

The Sanusi Family Had a Dog

My passion for canines was terrific.
The day he became part of th’ family,
the house was chaotic, confused, and hectic,
that none could touch his furry hair, but me.

He was so beautiful. We named him Tim.
but th’ family had big grudges for dogs-
Why? Muslim families are muslim
families– the laws detest hounds and hogs.

But this soon passed. He was unique, maybe
unusual, but young Tim won all their hearts
too quick. They’ll have big quarrels o’er who sees
to his diet, or walks him out to Marts.

This too soon passed. That Sunday in his Kennel,
we met him lying in a pool of blood.
His skull squashed to the wall. He smelled like hell.
No one’d the slightest idea what had trod

that harshly on the lowly dog. I shed
tears, shouted, I complained, blamed every soul.
None knew how much I hated how dogs howl,
so none will know I crushed the puppy’s head.

We Hate You (Animals Make a Collaboration Song)

You squeeze my scrotum for your milk,
you yet call me the bovine ilk–
& that’s only the best
among your painful jest:
you force me into leathered silk.

You give me shelter, take me to marts,
fill my bowl with bony parts.
But to anull it all,
you slant against the wall,
& spray me with your garlic farts.

Chorus:
We hate you, we hate you,
we hate your brain & curvy brow.
We hate you, swear we do,
we hate you’s all we say for now.

You call me slither, you slitter more.
You say I feel nothing in my core.
But you are the heartless,
the wild. You are the mess
between the thighs of your messy whore.

You tag me King, yet have me tamed,
‘majestic’ is reference to my name.
But the truth be said,
you bump off my head
& use the belittling word ‘game’.

Chorus:
We hate you, we hate you,
we hate your brain & curvy brow.
We hate you, swear we do,
we hate you’s all we say for now.

Poetry: Satire. Irony. Sarcasm.

‘He’s sending his love’ – WesternUnion advertisement.

Love’s never been blind, just transferable.
Friends agree he puts the food on the table.
To think his siblings are behind their rent;
the neighbours love & respect a heaven’s sent.
Required once are account name & pin,
& wife can transfer all her love to him.

‘The Messiah’, ‘a lover of children’,
in congregations, a fisher of men!
To think the kiss that comes with every phone,
the joy around the loud ‘I love you!’ tone.
To teach the mouth to bite the hands that feed her,
to think that love’s not money either.

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Love is not Money

‘He’s sending his love’ – WesternUnion advertisement.

Love’s never been blind, just transferable.
Friends agree he puts the food on the table.
To think his siblings are behind their rent;
the neighbours love & respect a heaven’s sent.
Required once are account name & pin,
& wife can transfer all her love to him.

‘The Messiah’, ‘a lover of children’,
in congregations, a fisher of men!
To think the kiss that comes with every phone,
the joy around the loud ‘I love you!’ tone.
To teach the mouth to bite the hands that feed her,
to think that love’s not money either.