Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Houses Of God

I really wonder sometimes (too much) about the many houses that god* supposedly owns all across the globe.

Q: Does god know about and keep track of each and every one of them?
A: Maybe god doesn't know about all of them and doesn't have the time to count.

Q: Does god know about all the controversies that erupt when one of them is broken down only to be taken over by another of some other religion?
A: God figured that humans can figure out a fate for their religious lives themselves.

Q:Does god live in all of them?
A: God's got his own heavenly home and couldn't bother about the teeny-weeny ones we build.

Q: Is god really omnipresent?
A: If god's gaseous, then maybe, yes.

Q: Does god live all alone in his earth home?
A: I don't see god to begin with.

Q: Does god know that more often than not the doors to it's** houses are closed to the pitiful and that they remain empty when not in use for prayer?
A: God is a silent watcher.

God has it's own house wherever it is. Yet we claim these places of worship as our houses. We decide who is allowed and who's not. I thought all were welcome, sinners (I can't define the word 'sinner' properly and refuse to include myself in that category nor in the next, I'm plain human) and saints as well.

It's a fine fantasy we let ourselves believe. It's not god's house. It's ours. We could put it to better use. Some do. The others?

Q: Who holds the keys to these houses?
A: Humans.

Q: Who can put it to better use?
A: Humans.

Q: Who doesn't?
A: Humans

Q: Who does?
A: Humans.

Q: Who complains?
A: Humans like me. You too?



P.S.:*Yes, with a small 'g'. Why? Because 'god' is still just another concept to the author. She refuses to speak further on this delicate topic.

**The author isn't deciding god's gender herself who might even be a eunuch for all she knew without knowing for sure. Therefore she won't refer to god as neither he nor she.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Nineteen Days

Nineteen days;
It took you to leave me.
Nineteen days;
But I ne'er was happy.
Nineteen days;
And you ne'er once laid me.
Nineteen days;
You've proved you're a pansy. -8

Nineteen days;
It took me to like you.
Nineteen days;
You were seduced.
Nineteen days;
You got used.
Nineteen days;
An' I'm all o'er you. -16

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Happy Valentine's

Everyone's probably done a topic on it too. It's about that silly day when girls see through rose-tinted glasses and some lucky boys get to see rose-tinted stuff too (it's an innuendo if you want it to be). I found someone who (I) wanted to be my valentine too (who said I couldn't?!). And here's a little about him.

I don't know his name. He wouldn't tell me. I didn't ask. I met him in the local train compartment as I rode home one evening. He spoke only gibberish, gibberish I slowly learnt to understand. He was little, young, dark, filthy and wild too. His eyes were blood-shot red. He had muddy hair, natuarally fashioned into some weird 'center-shock' style. He stuck his head out of the compartment door, and barked at the dogs on the platforms that whizzed past us as the train sped by, some dogs even barking back quite obviously annoyed. He exited everyone around him. Some even laughed at his silly antics while others thought he was out of his right mind (and into his left I suppose). I didn't think the same.

He flirted with me. I told him to 'shut up!' as I wasn't going to be taken in by him so easily. But he wouldn't give up. He pointed at the moon and spoke some loving gibberish about it. He seemed to be speaking in a 'ghatti Hindi' dialect execpt that he didn't know what he was saying but was trying to say something nevertheless. He threatened to unzip my zipper (like I'd let him), the one that had a kechain of a little Eiffel Tower hanging from my bag. He tried to impress me by barking at random people he could see from the train. He didn't even notice that there were others in the compartment. He kept looking at me even when I tried to ignore him.

Finally, I gave in five minutes before my ride ended by nodding my head in agreement to every word of gibberish he said. He was glad for the attention I was giving him. But then my stop came and I had to alight. And as I did so he looked back at me so forlorn. He obviously had someplace else to be. I then offered him a sweet I saved for anyone who wanted, knowing that he was the deserving one. He accepted without second thoughts and waved back at me as the train made it's way ahead leaving me feeling glad I made a little six year old a little less sad.

Happy Valentine's you little freak!


P.S: The author could've made it into a poem. What a twitty imbicle of her not to.
The author wishes everyone a happy Valentine's. May you all drown in love!

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Pyromaniacs Close Amongst Us?

I do not discuss politics ever. And I will continue to do so. It causes people's blood to boil, creates chaos in the deep recesses of their minds and exites more than needed, ignited emotions. This one fortunately has got to do only with the behavious of the members of certain political parties. I'd rather die than mention anything here (I'd be set on fire if I did).

What seems strange is, why should these followers of certain political parties set fire to various modes of transport? Why must they set fire to anything at all, would be an even more logical question. Why must they they run amuck damaging anything and sometimes everything in sight? Why damage things that aren't theirs like that? Why damage at all? No doubt, raging fires do look beautiful (I think so even if you don't) but that doesn't mean you can set fire to anything and everything you like.

I came to a few conclusions which I've listed below. I'm sure one of them must be the right answer if not more than one.

1. They must be paid a hot amount of dough.
2. They have been pyromaniacs since childhood due to some sort of mental trauma.
3. They've been brainwashed by the political party concerned.
4. They like the heat./They feel cold.
5. Pitiful upbringing.
6. Inner desires kept deep within for so long that the need for setting things on fire just had to be fulfilled.

Monday, February 11, 2008

You Know What I Want?

He wanted to see me dead.
That's what the kind man later said.
He offered me a hot soup of stringy meat;
And a bottle of vodka, neat. -4

I accepted and devoured it all;
Peg by peg, the drink was taking it's toll.
While he sat by me, watching,
Refusing the drink I was offering. -8

I'd eaten nothing for over three days;
These were my filthy workaholic ways.
Anyone offering free hot food
I'd considered it to be all good. -12

I knew he'd want something back.
He looked like a real lecherous rat.
So I replied the inevitable "what?"
When he asked, "You know what I want?" -16

"I want to slice your throat to make you scream and cry;
Then I could watch you bleed as you slowly die;
I want to tear the hair off your head;
All I want, is to see you tortured to death." -20

Lucky for me, the drink
Made me lose my ability to think;
So he said nothing I could understand,
Neither from beginning nor till end. -24

I was starting to feel queasy,
And the situation wasn't making it easy.
He tried to slip his coarse palms up my skirt;
But I somehow made sure his plans didn't work. -28

I wanted to fight back with dirt!
I threw up all over his silver satin shirt.
Though I'd very much like to brag and boast,
It was actually the vodka that took it's due course. -32

And so I walked home with a smirk;
That day was better than most days at work.
And from then on I ever won't
Answer when someone asks if I know what they want. -36

Friday, February 08, 2008

Second Best

For girls, to be themselves is usually considered second best to men. For men, to be so much as so hinted at that they're acting like girls is an insult. It's like being female is wrong., like being compared to muck. On the other hand a girl is asked to stop being 'girly'. Should they be 'manly' instead then? What's 'manly' or 'girly' anyways? I doubt it's got anything to do with the difference in the anatomy. A woman beating a man at something he's always been successful at is like a chimpanzee being able to fly a space rocket better than the astronaut itself. I suppose people forgot that girls were born with brains too. We're still mistaken for monkeys minus any grey cells.
If a guy has many girlfriends at a time or gets a new one each week and gets to bed them all he's considered as the society's stud, a playboy. Nevertheless, it's supposedly fine for him because he's a boy. If a girl does the same she's a slut and a whore. Whatever happened to the word man-whore? I don't see many use that word even though it deserves regular usage. Girls aren't allowed to be promiscuous. Even gays are treated worse because they let out their 'feminine' side. Do lesbians get to let out their 'masculine' side let alone have one?
Girls who like sports, who prefer pants to skirts or short hair and nails to long are called 'tomboys'. Where are the 'janegirls', I ask?! The very word says that she's being 'boyish'. Even she's not really accepted in society. Why? Because she's a little bit more practical. Therefore we can conclude that smart girls aren't accepted in society, the dumb ones are more preferred. Wearing pink is now associated with girls so much so that breast cancer is associated with a pink ribbon too. It's a girl thing i guess. Even Barbie, supposedly a little girl's best friend, must find it tiresome to wear pink so darn often.
I suggest females should give birth to more girls, go for artificial insemination and castrate all the males they give birth to for a few decades or more. There's always the sperm banks, lesbians and sex toys if we ever run out of men. Then we'll see who's second best. The tables will someday turn!!!