Macchars don’t wear sweaters

Ode to..

Posted on: December 23, 2008

you silently slinked into my life,
and i didn’t pay you much mind.
but soon you found your way into my bed,
and very soon, it was every night.

there had been many before you,
they came and went, a passing liaison always,
never more than a year or two.
some lost their gentle touch, some lost their warmth,
and time frayed some,

but none could compare,
with the ecstasy of your warm embrace,
(which i can feel even now, as i write this,)
when you lie over me, your feather weight a joy,
(unlike your heavy predecessors)
and your velvet folds enclose me,
i run my hands along your sides, pull you even closer,
and sigh the sigh of satiation,

deep into the night we lay,
(or sometimes well into the day)
you and me, those restful moments,
the relaxed silence of staring at the ceiling endlessly,
ah, the cozy comfort of togetherness,
but it not always you and me,
sometimes its a merry three,
when we are joined by bonny.

Title – Ode to kambal (ode ke kambal)


8 Responses to "Ode to.."

what a passionate embrace..just make sure the threads don come off your kambal..otherwise juttiyyann pan gi yaan from mummyji

hee hee…..”juttiyan pain giyan mummiji ton”

Natural and easy flow of thoughts and words.

Sailing To Byzantium
William Butler Yeats

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect

Robert Browning’s Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came (1855)

My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the workings of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.

The Centre Cannot Hold… ”

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of “Spiritus Mundi”
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

— William Butler Yeats, “The Second Coming”

“Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out of the same Door as I went.”


“A Few Words in Defense of our Country”

Randy Newman

I’d like to say a few words
In defense of our country
Whose people aren’t bad nor are they mean
Now the leaders we have
While they’re the worst that we’ve had
Are hardly the worst this poor world has seen

Let’s turn history’s pages, shall we?

Take the Caesars for example
Why within the first few of them
They were sleeping with their sister
Stashing little boys in swimming pools
And burning down the City
And one of ‘em, one of ’em
Appointed his own horse Consul of the Empire
That’s like vice president or something

That’s not a very good example, is it?

But wait, here’s one, the Spanish Inquisition
They put people in a terrible position
I don’t even like to think about it

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