from your father

what would I like to tell my son

the apple of my eye and not yet one

there are many things so let me begin

first; to be happy, my boy, is to win

know the world is not a fair place

but let that not change your ways

believe in good when good eludes you

also that sorrow is just a point of view

sometimes even the sun may not be bright

but it’s ok to know fear but not fright

it’s also ok to fall and ok to cry

and getting up may take more than a try

back yourself and strength you will find

not from muscle but from your mind

falling in love is easy, so is breaking a heart

don’t stop one, the other don’t start

save your money but invest in friends

they last longer than stock market trends

don’t drink much but do try one beer

or maybe two if you have another near

always be kind and without excuse

for it’s not you walking in their shoes

remember - saying sorry is not for the meek

(just don’t say it week after week)

be proud of your brains but take pride in your sweat

for hard work dazzles more than intellect

honesty isn't easy and it’s easier to bluff

but integrity is what makes a man tough

be a man of peace but game for a fight

brave for what you believe to be right

never stop caring, never grow cold

because to stop feeling is to grow old

give everything your everything, that is all

the long and long of this poem tall

and last; to be happy, my boy, is to win

so crank up that smile and make it a grin

ram cobain

hero

the toughest thing is to smile

while somehow suppressing the bile.

ram cobain

fact

woe whispered in my ear
use my hand and wipe that tear

true she loved, laughed and then she left

you bruised, broken, betrayed, bereft

but compare this to the tragedy

what if there were never a she

ram cobain

wimp

to tower over a crouching girl

and pass her around in an ugly twirl

hand to hand in a stranger’s love

smiling as her eyes beg how

to blame it on her choice of dress

or how her lipstick shrieked yes

to call her a bitch and a whore

(see, she walked out of a pub’s door)

to fault it on her easy dance

or a casual sideways glance

to seize in God-given goddamn right

endorsed by bravado and by fright

to have her like a free Happy meal

eaten, burped, hey no big deal

to then beat the shell that she is

(what's a date without a goodnight kiss?)

is the sickest crime in the land

and no, not what it means to be a man.

ram cobain

you

somewhere a little child moves

prettier than a ballerina’s shoes

and what he lacks in easy grace

he makes up by the look on their face

these months have been such a blur

they know not even if he’s a her

starting from a moment of choice

that’s part decision, more surprise

for in the throes of sweet surrender

of an eternity way too tender

as they lie back and they sigh

the heavens conspire his first cry

and so the days quickly roll on

with each sunrise reality dawns

what was two between me and you

in a caress of limbs so swiftly grew

it shows up in a widening of waist

and a phantasmagoria of taste

sweet now, sour then, this longing for food

the husband a marionette of her mood

but truly it’s tougher on the wife

she carries complicity and also life

she is the one who must face the stare

and the breakfast that her throat does bare

hers is the body that swims and swells

that stays silent and even then tells

she is the one who quits ambition

career, growth and lofty vision

but he too is caught in a spider’s tease

where the webs of work never cease

aware thus he is of his human debt

to a blood born from his animal sweat

but in these tales of twin torment

like a rainbow that’s always bent

is a truth that’s as old as it is new

dear son, or daughter – we love you.

ram & gayatri cobain

Sshhh

there is a fear that I alone know
that hugs me tightly as I go

it’s with me when I blink an eye

and also when I scream out why

I caress it in under the happy sun

we snuggle when the day’s all done

I hide it well with an easy smile

that hurts when it lingers a while

and so we dance this daily dance

like lovers frozen in college romance

but through this macabre pantomime

of inhales, exhales and surviving time

and asking why it should be so wrong

I emerge braver, a little more strong

ram cobain

stature

the small man always knew
big he could never be
and no matter how much he grew
up is all he would see

ram cobain

the underdog

He looks at the loyal baying crowd
Screaming another’s name aloud
As he smiles at this ugly beautiful game
And how they’ll soon be chanting his name

ram cobain

becoming

fear seeped fast up his knees
like a happy hopeful hungry disease
his palms began to sweat and pour
like a monster’s drool from a childhood lore
his lips felt dry like a mummy’s parched
fettered in once-white bandages starched
his head began to wobble and sway
like a heathen just learning how to pray
his heart clenched till no breath dare leave
like one who has loved and lost (and now must grieve)
so he smiled and laughed like a man who must fail
and stood tall and brave and became the tale

ram cobain

no

the world it asked of every man
i’d rather you kneel than try to stand
and so we fell with one silent voice
shoulders sunk in hopeless choice
till we raised our eyes and gazed
at a sight that left us half crazed
there he stood not on his knees
his head lost somewhere in the trees
he fixed the world in a steely stare
that twinkled like only a boy’s could dare
and then he raised a willow bold
and wrote a story forever told

ram cobain
saaaaachin sachin

empathy

if only the twain could ever see
it's the same for you or me
no word as beautiful could ever be
hey it even rhymes with 'we'

ram cobain

please

night gives up to blue skies gay
but still the monsters won’t go away.

ram cobain

promises

the inkpot uneasy, quietly stirred
as the lover wrote a false word

ram cobain

the edge

the barber picks up his trusted blade
like a man in another trade
he looks long at the gleaming steel
but his is a slip of destiny’s wheel
so he gently dips the tip in water
and merely dreams of scarlet slaughter

ram cobain

no and yes

my heart yells go slow
this path is one you know
then another voice dares say
wasn’t that yesterday?

ram cobain

vox populi

self doubt spoke aloud
while conviction whispered
so one gathered a crowd
and the other wasn't heard.

ram cobain

last writes

my love took a razor blade
and sliced till all began to fade
then it walked into a dirty noose
choked grimy from multiple use
next like a child’s sweet tooth whim
it swallowed pills till all did swim
then it held its breath never to exhale
even when all turned bluish pale
last it took a shotgun to its head
and still somehow never fell dead
so it began to greedily see
a little mirage called you and me
but it was just love again being blind
to words and acts and reality unkind
but the stupider bit that gets my goat
is that it never tried a suicide note.

ram cobain

what goes around, comes a round

life, if you were to meet me
in a cold dimly lit alley
I’d dance on my toes
punch you on the nose
and ask how does it feel
to hurt and never heal.

ram cobain

yes

when the applause dies
and with it the critics’ cries
when stadiums taught to riot
fall forlorn, empty, quiet
when the walk feels alone
and mute stares the phone
when trophies lose their gold
and 16 feels very old
when the willow lifts too heavy
like a tax too unfair to levy
when fresh sinews dare
to try be worthy of compare
when the world starts to forget
its eternal crushing debt
when a new age asks who
and pray what did he do?
when hundreds seem to fade to zero
you will then, as now, be my hero.

ram cobain
saaaaachin sachin

(coincidentally - or divinely - my 100th poem on this blog!)

adios amigo

sometimes the end
feels like a friend.

ram cobain

judas

hope is but a lengthier noose
that swiftly tightens while feeling loose.

ram cobain

un-scab

sweet is the pain we shyly feel
of wounds old, too fresh to heal.

ram cobain

superiority complex

the imbecile asked the fool
where he went to school.

ram cobain

dark thoughts

does night ever feel scared
and dream chilly nightmares
does it wish for a small light
to brighten away its fright
does it worry about strange knocks
and ticking of familiar clocks
does its very black blood sap
at the dripping of a leaky tap
does it ever feel painfully alone
when it hears the wind moan
does it break into a cold sweat
over the howl of a stray pet
does it say a devout hymn
against the flicker of shadows dim
does it clutch its pillow and weep
as it begs and cries for sleep
truly, does night ever say
I’m happy, here comes day.

ram cobain

will I…

will I be famous
as a writer someday
or will I remembered
as an orator who had his say
will I make it as a teacher
learned and worldly wise
or will I be a prodigy
and leave the masters surprised
will I be a doctor
god’s gift to the sick
or will I be a porn star
famous for my 12” dick
will I be a philanthrope
a generous soul indeed
or will I be a tycoon
untiring in my greed
but truth be told
I’m perfectly happy
for it takes a bit of them all
to make humble me

ram cobain

the last time

when was the last time
you wrote a silly rhyme
washed your own car
played air guitar
didn’t act your age
re-read a page
let the phone ring
smiled good morning
said a chain joke
let the sun soak
wore a crumpled shirt
admitted that it hurt?

ram cobain

double dying

the poem ran away
and hid under a chair
and try as I may
I couldn’t reach there
I called out to ma
why and woe that she
went all aha ha ha
all over me.

ram cobain

the reaper reaps

Death woke up different one day
stared into the mirror in dismay
for like an insomniac who daily tries
there were big bags under his eyes
and then his cheeks began to shrink
brittle blue from baby pink
he fearfully touched his vanishing hair
and the shiny skull spots birthing there
new wrinkle lines speedily cut in
like a familiar scythe ripping through skin
his proud pearly whites next fell loose
brown and useless like yesterday’s news
now his eyesight dimmed and blurred
like two spoonfuls of cataract stirred
maybe he heard a laugh but he wasn’t sure
with eardrums broken beyond cure
like an emperor bowed without a crown
his knees gave way and he crumpled down
and like a shower of sudden summer rain
his trousers burst into yuck yellow stain
as his chest started to rattle, splutter and give
he shrieked but gasped, “I want to live.”

ram cobain

ask

I can feed my wrist to blade
make my marker rainbow fade
stamp out glory with my own feet
make my iron hands fold in defeat
I can dream a wizening nightmare
make my skeleton cupboard bare
plot my splatter-glorious fall
make skull tattoos on the wall
I can wage a suicidal fight
gloat happily over my fatal plight
swallow my god and then betray
make my enemy have his say
I can puncture my one life boat
make my breath from seeking float
aim my neck towards the noose
make my wins to make me lose
I can act against my will
make hypocrisy have its belchy fill
tear a historic childhood snap
make best friends feel a stranger’s gap
I can do this and please more
make tears from blue skies pour
if only I could make you bless
make you, yes you say a yes.

ram cobain

one for the road

hunk
punk
monk
chunk
dunk
sunk
bunk
funk
junk
skunk
drunk.

ram cobain

silent witness

glorious, stoic, discreet sun
if you were to loosen your tongue
what stories would you care to tell
about mice and men and heaven and hell?

ram cobain

rhetoric

to give the devil his due
yes, the moron did argue
and with voice, affected, cool
asked if he was a fool

ram cobain

agony

the toughest of things ever to be
is asking you out for coffee.

ram cobain

alcatraz

the fool thought he broke the fetters

as he made a pyre of her letters
but life gloats that he's not free
for how do you burn a memory?

ram cobain

(Pic courtesy vchal and Istockphoto.com)

violent revolution

surprisingly, after tea
the brain yells “yippee!”
the stomach rumbles loud
says, son, I’ll do you proud
hear today as I foretell
a tale of heaven in hell
gone is the dreary drought
long, tiring, hard fought
today after the slaughter
you’ll need extra water
today after the dirty deed
all prisoners shall be freed
today in one explosive display
you’ll celebrate independence day
today after the bloodless coup
you’ll never want to poop
today after the pitiless plunder
you’ll be weary in wonder
so pre-grab the toilet paper
lest you lose it in the vapour
now run, take the digi-cam
to record the breaking of the dam
hark, quick, clutch the rear
see, the undie trembles in fear
go with authority and aplomb
go brave, go drop the bomb.

ram cobain

mom’s the word

mother, what would you say
if you read my blog today
would you scream out aloud
and gather a small crowd
would your hands, so used to clap
raise towards me in a slap
would you pull out your hair
especially as mine isn’t there
would you in horrified dismay
sit down before our god and pray
would you gasp and wonder
was it education or was it a blunder
would these scribbles of mine
bring to mouth all that you dined
would those diamond tears fall
at the sight of my cheap scrawls
would you, desperate, call out for dad
and would he similarly, feel as bad
would my rhymes not make you laugh
but choke and cut your voice in half
would you mourn what I’ve done
or say, that poet, he’s my son.

ram cobain

abracadabra

in the fender smashing bone
in the unanswered phone
in the blade that cuts slow
in the moment that must go
in the lonely public defeat
in the enemy smiling in greet
in the hero who must die
in the child who mustn’t cry
in the mother who must choose
in the father who must lose
in the friend who must fall
in the god who looks like a wall
in the needle finding vein
yes, there’s magic in pain.

ram cobain

torture

nothing more painful to endure
than an idiot who is insecure.

ram cobain

to sita

oh world, cruel place
seconds last for days
days pass like years
water tastes like tears
the sky, eternal blue
deftly hides all clue
the grass, soft, green
covers all it has seen
birds and beasts graze
like fine forgotten days
can nothing change
yet everything feel strange
they say I must be brave
lead, protect and save
so the body lives
fights and forgives
but this war inside
like the Ganges in tide
swirls cold and burns
like inquisitors taking turns
will I break, must I bend
before this hide-n-seek ends
these eyes grow old
the spirit less bold
sweet dearest, you’re late
ram passes away as he waits
oh where are you
what do I do?

ram

not again!

woe, dismay
It’s a bad hair day

ram cobain

appetizer

if words could bite
would you still write?

ram cobain

happiness

it’s a friend who never shows he cares
yet whose face in the mirror stares
a mother who scolds but whose lap brings
sleep and dreams with gossamer wings
a book that was written in another age
but which takes you there with every page
an ice-cream cone in hot summer sun
that only melts when the day is done
an innings from a champion past
played only for you from beginning to last
a kiss that makes you weak in the knees
and shows you where heaven must be
a guitar note that lunges and lingers
like the memory voice of your favourite singer
a god who comes good when you need
whose stone ears hear you when you plead
this is what happiness means to me
sweet like the world that newborns see.

ram cobain

first rain

wet kisses on cracked cheeks
like the first word an infant speaks
soothing, like a mother’s hand
you make me whole, make me land.

ram cobain

loneliness

the clock stares
in silent compare
like siamese twins
we’re alike, it grins
I’m you, you’re me
and two’s company.

ram cobain

finally

today I danced like me
today I let yesterday be.

ram cobain

scream

for god’s sake
the mask aches.

ram cobain

old age

cracks line the wall
the vessel gathers rust
the tree stoops to fall
the floor breathes its dust
the telly talks aloud
the radio blares a song
the sofa yearns a crowd
the chair rocks along
the phone waits and waits
the doorbell holds its tongue
the clock ticks never late
a photograph remains young.

ram cobain

vocabulary

there was once a man
who never heard the word ‘can’
he didn’t know what it meant
by either design or accident
in seriousness or wit
he never used it
as a child it was “a for ant”
(and yes “c for can’t”)
and when he read the dictionary
it filled him with worry
for ‘can’ stared back at him
like a verbose writer’s whim
and quite oft he was heard
saying “can is only a word”
very nondescript he was
with very nondescript flaws
and like a sorcerer’s cloning spell
he looked like everyone else
but still everyone could see
that that man isn’t me.

ram cobain

civilization

the monkey
found poetry

ram cobain

icarus

why do great men fall
from splendid ivory thrones
when they could stand tall
on lesser mortal bones
heroes they could be
legends than men too
instead they decree
to be like me or you.

ram cobain

wallpaper

do you have to die
to commit suicide
because everyday I see
the dead on their feet.

ram cobain

the end of ego

the black and the white
the corrupt and the upright
the spender and the miser
the fool and the wiser
the atheist and the evangelist
the weakling and the fist
the lover and the cheat
the winner and the defeat
the rich and the needy
the genteel and the seedy
the arrived and the lost
the servant and the boss
the classy and the gaudy
the star and the nobody
the crier and the clown
the villager and the town
the critic and the fan
the mouse and the man
daily meet the twain
as faeces in the drain.

ram cobain

the jig

today I danced
in my head
because your glance
told me yes.

ram cobain

heresy

blasphemy, sacrilege
woe that I should
realize the carpenter’s son
got nailed to wood.

ram cobain

amen

If god were a betting man
he’d put his last buck on me
and even if you weren’t my fan
i think you'd have to agree.

ram cobain

frankly speaking

believe me when I say
“I love you” today
but how am I to know
i'd feel the same, tomorrow?

ram cobain

h.v.d.

oh beautiful unseen face
here’s a warm embrace
here’s an animal bear hug
here’s a clinky beer glug
here’s a hand ruffling hair
here’s a lingering stare
here’s an unbought gift
here’s an untaken lift
here’s an unborn starry night
here’s an unformed love bite
here’s to you, here’s to me
here’s to us, here’s to we
here’s to what I’d like to say
happy valentine’s day.

ram cobain

the socialite

she smells of Yardley
and broken dreams
of stale Sundays
and old Jim Beams
of mascara tears
and trophy smiles
of botox rears
and chipped nail files
of flashbulb wrinkles
and derby catwalks
of dollar note crinkles
and Gucci talks
of public loves
and private cries
of page 3 wows
and the perfect disguise.

ram cobain

quite an apology

oh, for a new poem to write
for another fan to delight
but on what, I haven’t a clue
so let me say, sorry to you.

:-)

ram cobain

come

standing, falling
tumbling, calling
wishing, yearning
breathing, burning
crying, bleeding
praying, pleading
hurting, curing
feeling, enduring
hearing, hoping
dying, coping
finding, losing
being used and using
as I wait for you.

ram cobain

for vibgyor

in b/w movies
how did they show
the true beauty
of a rainbow?

ram cobain

slivers of me

a long swallow of summer beer
curtains opening to holiday cheer
sun washed in sweet june rain
a bathroom mirror that’s just as vain
a friend who answers on first ring
bravado only a mom’s lap can bring
a book that hugs on every page
a raise above the minimum wage
music that makes the ears worthwhile
a monday morning that wakes with a smile
a love that stays lovely forever
a gut feeling that never says never
a pillow that always looks rested
a will that never looks bested
a dream that touches the fingers
a yesterday that today does linger
a hero who battles mortal awe
an intelligence that asks a how
a god who must again deliver
these are but a few slivers
of blood, bone and what must be
slivers, slivers of what make me.

ram cobain

sweet surprise

I read an awesome poem today
I simply loved what it had to say
and when I looked up the poet’s name
I found he and I were the same.

ram cobain

dedicated to that beautiful moment when things...
snap

deep inside a head
a white turns to red
a new anger opens its eyes
an old person bids goodbye
a love kills a love
a tomorrow expires now
a friend betrays a friend
a street searches a dead end
a hero falls down
a thorn climbs a crown
a breast disowns its milk
a cocoon fails its silk
a peace curdles violent
a god watches silent
an angel takes a nap
as normal starts to snap

ram cobain

adios

like an iron tear on a windowpane
stuck, silent, spent in vain
like a swirling sea to a paper boat
cruel, casual to drown or float
like foetal sigh yet to be born
imagined, conceived, long forgone
like a dream drawn on gossamer sheets
crinkled, creased, crushed in defeat
like a promise quivering on a tongue
unsaid, unheard, very unsung
like prayer awaiting a stone god
futile, foolish, very flawed
like hope falling in first love again
tragic, suicidal, sweetly insane
like metaphors, similes or clever word plays
like a million repeat attempts to say
but no matter how hard I ever try
I’ll never be able to bid goodbye.

ram cobain

last but not the least

glittering diamonds
and silicon blondes
mafiasque funds
and magic wands
nothing compares
in the end
to you, sweet, rare
my best friend.

ram cobain

like you, like me

everybody needs some love
a little bit then and all of now
everybody needs to be told
you may be graying but not old
everybody needs to be said
that you’re okay in the head
everybody needs to know
you’ll be there tomorrow
everybody needs to touched
by the littles rather than the much
everybody needs to feel
the power a hug can wield
everybody needs to see
I’m like you, you’re like me.

ram cobain

sonnet to an unknown love

right this moment, where is she
working hard, or romancing a he
is she single, like yours truly here
or is she a couple, like a happy hours beer
is she snowhite fair, or dark as the night
a thing of beauty, or a genetic plight
will she make heads turn, or is her heart her virtue
or will she have neither, but a nice l’il fortune
will she cook well, to feed my chauvinistic belly
or will she expect to be served in front of the telly
will she appreciate fine poetry, especially mine
or will her dream words be a ‘for sale’ sign
will she be a giving lover, a tigress in bed
or like an pedigree poodle, will she play dead
will she get along nicely with ma, like a house on fire
or will they quarrel, like polygraph and a liar
will she speak her mind, or have none
will knitting a pullover be her idea of fun
will she believe in god, or be an atheist
will she love me for what i am, or inspite of it
have I looked into her eyes, or have I never seen her yet
is she a stranger, or someone I’ve often met
will i find her on my own, or will my parents have to step in
is she tamil, punjabi or three-quarters finn
but to tell you frankly, there’s really only one question
only one criterion deserving mention
…will she be a compromise, or a real bargain
a wife truly worthy of ram cobain?

an ode to insanity

like a feast of salty broken glass
the sweet scratches of a mask
a vivid splash of nothingness
a nameplate with lost address

he stands there gibbering to himself
a mighty soothsayer afraid to tell
some bitter truth too big to share
a solemn cross he alone must bear

the blurring of edges, the clarity of space
an angel falling headlong from grace
a race of slow throbbing death
like hurried gasps of bated breath

they pass him by without a glance
this freak of some divine mischance
vacant eyes, twisted face
a canvas too ugly to be erased

yesterday, today, everyday
less black, less white, much more grey
caught in time or freed from it
savoured by streams of dripping spit

he sees what they do not dream
and dreams what they must not see
a vision horrific, or is it pretty
paradise lost or guarded closely

alone, not lonely in the world
like a valiant flag in the storm unfurled
seeing, smiling yet blind to it all
poetic, esoteric, immovable wall

he cares not what they make of him
like a fish drenched in rainy swim
they effect him not, they affect him not
sadly happy private thoughts

scorned like fruit, long gone bad
this aimless anchorless nomad
hard to accept, but what’s harder to know
who’s better off between us both.

ram cobain

padmavati

“father…some water…” Padmavati said
to the old invalid, tied to the bed
the father croaked an inaudible whisper
the hut glowing, by wands of camphor

she foraged through the dingy cell
this place less home, more of hell
a pot, a pan…oh anything to buy
medicines, while the father died

but penicillin, prayer, all did fail
like laundry drying in a wet, horrid gale
like a martyr dying without a cause
like brittle, bruised candy floss

meanwhile the aged one, grew more old
his body smelling like green bread mould
and while Padmavati searched for anything to trade
providence smiled on, too happy to aid

now desperate, she looked at the empty room
barren like an infertile womb
the only commodity left, of interest to the buyer
was now the lady, who opened for hire

matrimony thus commenced, as a one-night stand
and her body caressed, by an alien hand
but even polygamy has its price
one insulin injection, for two creamy thighs

so when Padmavati reached home, torn, tired
“my good daughter…” the old man enquired
“you sold something…” he contentedly sighed
“yes father”, Padmavati replied


(the name ‘Padmavati’ is taken from an r.k. narayanan story, in which the protagonist, commenting on the dismal lack of barbers in the town, disgustedly says
“one and only one Padmavati for the entire village!”)

A small tribute to the merit of having no merit at all…

to nobody in particular

oh how good it is to be
just another fish in the sea
not big not beautiful not even rare
a sight unworthy of a second stare

not blessed with abstract intelligence
or poetic talent that doesn’t make sense
or a lover’s heart doomed to pine
like sniffling snow in yellow sunshine

not wanting like a millionaire
aged, broken, beyond repair
or so famous that nobody knows
what all you’d give, to just be ignored

not pained by easy sparkling wit
that bubbles and burns like acid spit
that when spoken, stamps a scar within
specially on those you call your kin

little do they know, the superior small fry
the great merit of being an unexceptional guy
for it’s the weed that escapes the plucking hand
and what use a flower on a garland?

writer’s block

the shovel hits stone
the earth tired, groans
this drought’s been long
the sun burns strong
the last drop’s dripped
the faucet’s tightlipped
the breast’s run dry
a little child cries.

ram cobain

the wedding night

he takes her by the hand
up the sparkling stairs
a bride without a marriage band
a groom with receding hair

they pause to air their lungs
this walk filled with promise
he grins at her face, innocent, young
and rewards her with a kiss

the door, there it stands
open, inviting, ready
she looks up at her man
heart racing, feet unsteady

the bedsheets hungry, red
the pillow soft, so warm
and like a hyena unfed
he grabs her by the arm

he holds her tiny waist
firm, rough, really strong
hands strip in needy haste
while lips break into song

he plunges deep within
this crevice yet unexplored
her world starts to swim
and her thighs drip wet, gored

he looks into her eyes
tired, spent, had.
she gazes back and replies
“can I go now…dad?”

ram cobain

poetry

what is poetry
but reason in rhyme
what is poetry
but a way of stopping time
what is poetry
but prose gone good
what is poetry
but thought for food
what is poetry
but the esoteric made easy
what is poetry
but the simple made sleazy
what is poetry
but intelligent feigning ignorance
what is poetry
but the stupid making sense
what is poetry
but a voice in the wild
what is poetry
but a grown up child
what is poetry
but a prison door wide open
what is poetry
but a windowpane broken
what is poetry
but a cleansing smile
what is poetry
if it isn’t worth your while?

ram cobain

adverti…sin

your toilets will sparkle
your hair will shine
your investments will make sense
and retirement’s just fine
your cola will make you cool
your energy drink will make you win
your water will make you pure
and coffee will make you sing
your breath will stay fresh
your teeth will never decay
your skin will turn fairer
and that pimple will fade away
your car will earn you respect
your fuel will make never touch zero
your tyre will make you unstoppable
your cycle will make you a hero
your deo will get you women
your cigarette will make you a man
your suit will make you complete
…just buy my wonderful brand

ram cobain

please read

incredible, strange and sadly true
there exist such people and not a few
they’ve never met the catcher in the rye
or stared into Poe’s stony eye
never asked who was John Galt
(and what did he halt)
or why must sweet Veronica die
they’ve never escaped from Monte Cristo
never matched grey cells with green-eyed Poirot
never cried over George and Lenny
never said a prayer for Owen Meany
they’ve never fallen in love with a Juliet
never trembled in a Tommyknocker sweat
never searched for the holy grail
never hunted a Moby of a whale
never been friends with a Corleone
never had Rome for an enemy
never stayed locked in Anne’s cage
never broke free of human bondage
never ever heard the mariner speak
never seen a Huck Finn week
but to cut a long story short
please pardon this one…
they’ve never known what’s elementary
like dear ol’ Watson

ram cobain