after eighteen years

santa could not believe his luck
when the purple bells
he had been searching the last eighteen years
dropped right in front of him
while he was chewing his mind on the magazine
as he sat on the loo
that was built on the exact ground
where ten thousand foot soldiers perished in a nuclear attack
which was quite a mishit
on the part of a certain adolf
born of a woman not born of woman.

he picked them up
and fresh memories of
what had happened eighteen years earlier
brought back waves of sorrow
with a tinge of thrill
that could explain why all he could muster there and then
was an ounce of salty tear
from the corner of the left eye
which was the only functional window to the hardened soul
after years of pounding from the loss they labelled inevitable
because of his obstinate attitude and aptitude.

the bells jingled
and he was more than willing
to laugh at his own misfortune
so beautifully wretched
that he could not bear to curse anything or anyone but himself
who had chosen to soften the redness of the sore
that was growing and glowing with honour
from twenty thousand leagues beneath
causing the entire building to rattle with triumph
which was so sorely missed
the last eighteen years of his motherless life on earth.

he gaped

and yawed

and died

a happy lonesome brute.

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Published in: on Thursday, April 3, 2008 at 2:53 pm  Comments (1)  
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three quickies

three and a half bloggers met in new york. one was a guru to the other. two from the old school. two connected through thin air. and the half’s a third of one. short, yet unique.

weariness is an understatement. love keeps the soul going. a transformer is in store.

a new life awaits. and i am so damn looking forward to it. although the ghost of uncertainty still haunts.

Published in: on Sunday, July 15, 2007 at 11:56 pm  Comments (4)  
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