SUCKY POETS SOCIETY

what’s the price of this make-believe security
which i contemplate sitting on a toiletseat
of this 8 by 6 bathroom, shower and tub
cleaned every week by a half-mexican custodian
what did i pay
and how
if not me, who did
i feel sick dave, your weed is too good for me
i swear i’ll give up cigarrettes
confused
reclined on a 7 by 3 sofa, stare at the TV, its not mine
what should i watch
mutilated hands of a diamond miner in sierra leone
wet, rotting bodies in banda aceh
taped to be shown again and again on history channel
the reporters’ efforts shall not go wasted
there’s all on TV
glories of human achievement as contemplated by stephen hawkins
eating disorders of dennis quaid
just sit and stare
voyeurized
by graceful hip-swings of perfect bodies
traumatized
by middle-aged women using facial-hair-clippers
"it made no sense, us watching hollywood movies back home"
"and now you’re here, isnt that wonderful"
just another disgruntled consumer of beef jerky and beer
a victim of sweet romantic words
and pseudo-intellectual cogitation
just another reclusive sociopath
just another catatonic bathroom philospher

this wasnt supposed to be, was it
why? this never happened in movies
how shall i deal with this now
i never seen this in my movies
i need ta watch more of em
i need to learn what to feel like

take a tall glass with 1/3rd of whisky
2/3rd soda, leave space for two cubes of ice
dad said johnny  walker’s is the best whisky in the world
i’m tired of dressing up
like the hindi-movie-heroes of your times, dad
i dont think it make me look decent anymore
i have my own movie-looks to copy

you said 555 cigarrettes are the best
but you’ve let me down now, i discovered camels are much better
i think even yak is better, dad
stop judging me by what cigarrettes i smoke
or what shirt i wear,
how many times must i explain
your movie heroes, your idols have grown old
they dont twist their hips and sync their lips anymore
they are swollen and sit at the back row of movie-awards now
didnt i tell you, i have my own movie looks to follow
i gotta be more wes-ter-nised dad
its not me, its just the movies i watched growing up
but seriously, i think i’m cooler
you oughtta watch american movies more often, dad
then you’ll understand
why i dress up as i do

dad, this aint no ramayan or mahabharat
let’s stop acting priggish
dad, let’s raise our hands in the air
and give in, this cultural war
let’s be defeated, our worthless values based on your 60s and 70s hindi movies
let’s be won over and colonised, so that i can get my new cool jeans
those new SF jeans torn at the knee and the crotch
seriously, dad i think they are cool

buddy, we need a revolution
cuz i need more imported beer
i need more bangkok leather shoes with tags of made in italy
and t-shirts and jackets made in the underbelly of indrachowk
that copy the latest LA street swing
buddy, we need a big revolution
i want more big-breasted ladies to pose on the front of my magazines
i want more scams and celebrity hook-ups to make my life more interesting
buddy, we need ta burn those libraries cuz we need change in our values
let’s get done over with that past generation
let’s wipe out their backwardness
we need to burn down their houses and libraries
because i am "a free man", as they say
no wait, i am my own hindi-movie hero
an updated version of their self-righteousss nitwit clone
hollywood-rip-off-imagination of a hindi-movie producer
i have become the consciousness
of the more recent time-of-my-life hindi-movie heero

i need more movies
i dont know how to react to this anymore
i am puzzled aghast
i need some serious tutoring sessions in "feeeling"
i need the old comfort of my soft-porn hindi-movie-song videos
help, i want my movies
cuz i dont know what to feel anymore

{find me a reason to live
find me a remedy
for the lack of will to go on}

a drop, an ocean
what does it matter
magnitude means nothing to me
existence, despair
why go through this madness
life means nothing to me
time, reason and change
ingredients of a life
nothing there to feel
nothing is real

everything is quiet
quietly, life walks on ahead of me
drifts farther and farther away
time, drips from the ceiling
drops onto the floor
trickles past my feet
into the sewer
mingles with the stench of destiny
runs a race with the rats
to win a frothy-gutter existence

time, i dont need you
go away
time, are you my existence?
i despise you
i look down on you
time, are you playing hide-and-seek with me?
where do you hide my memories
away from the daylight, under your grey shawl?
what do you do with them
will you return them all to me
time, will you strike a bargain with me?
what do you want from me in return
dont try to cheat me time, this is not a game
this is quite serious

time, i wont prostitute myself to earn an existence
time, i am free, you cannot control me
i am not your keepsake
i wasnt assigned to you

time, i dont make deals with swindlers
you’re a rascal, you tried to rip me off
your lies have been exposed
now you’ve lost your face
you cant convince me anymore
the deal is off
go to hell
or wherever it is that you can go
to fuck yourself
go whore yourself with darkness
or brightness, if that is what you despise more

time, i am no slave
there are no iron chains around my wrists
time, i will slash you with my pocket knife
and let you spill onto the floor
time, dont dirty my new carpet with your disgusting mess
you appall me time, have some self respect
time, you think you have friends eh?
where? where are they now?
i have managed to lose all of them behind us
there is no one to come to your rescue
you have nothing to defend yourself with
you are completely trapped with me, time
dont kneel shamelessly in front of me
in your pathetic underpants
i will not listen to your grumblings
i dont care for your last-wishes and only-ifs
i have no respect for your lust, time
you deserve this

you chose to shackle me
but now, i will release you
we are no longer friends
no longer tied to each other
you are free to go

i will r-e-l-e-a-s-e you now
drip you onto my floor
dont you dare stain my new carpet