Gluttonic Antipathy

Gluttonic Antipathy

I don’t like whatever is written there, You decide for yourself” I don’t like what I write Mostly, I don’t like anything, anybody writes For that matter Or anything they do or don’t

But that doesn’t mean I don’t like anything at all There are inconsistencies in likings; you will be with me I’ve liked so many disgusting creatures in my life That in a way it has saved my life

The illogic goes like this If I can be truly deeply madly (put any no. Of ly’s you can prefix to love) In love with them, I can like myself at least to the extent That I don’t go and kill myself

Be simple, think straight, and don’t cuddle your thoughts You talk in circles your sentences don’t make any sense How many times I’ve heard this And I haven’t changed my ways yet

Why does every thread of my arcane contemplation Begins with a question, like this one just did And no matter how hard I’ll try I know I won’t be able to reach any answer

So let it be, no harm in wasting time Truthfully all of us have got so much of it Being busy is a myth, what is everybody busy in let me know In meeting the dead lines to go and kiss before the camera

Or to hit a ball and preparing to do so Or in making this pen and paper, with which I’m so freely making fun of their busy-ness Or perhaps they are working hard to entertain others

Life is such a boring game, I don’t enjoy anymore I’m almost dead, have become a sleepy hollow An aching mass of ageing cells; look closely you’ll see wrinkles on my face Each one of which, filled with inflict able sorrow

When I’m getting old, this life sucks And to it are left just a few more days How much does it matter then that I give importance to what my mother says

I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I continue with them Maybe I was not supposed to be I’m so sorry for her and so sorry for myself That’s why I’m so desperately trying, to be, a not to be

Mothers love their children, may I dare to say Is also a myth like many we are accustomed to live with Females like to give birth, that’s their bodily urge And a psychological sense of superiority, to produce

Abortion for convenience, I thought merges with sex for convenience But rarer of the specie don’t mix them They must have some very genuine essentially female reasons Which I won’t be able to figure out

It has got to do with just body and ego no role of mind Nothing else can explain why she decided to keep the child More so when she professes To have never loved his father

Has it got something to do with pleasing him? An attempt to pose herself earnestly in love Or to prove how strong she is, doesn’t need him Can carry on all alone

She’ll never tell you the real reason But adds how much she loves her child Until she is ready to get rid of the same lovely (?) child To please somebody else again for her own comfort

Even the most gifted of humans can’t think beyond three days Yesterday, today and tomorrow, are all what we think of Even while making decisions that go for a lifetime You can’t isolate yourself from your past

There is something I like in them, They are so apt in doing what they need to They become bad when they need, to be in the company of those who are And when they need to change the companies they simply Quit (being bad)

Outstanding display of will, I must say But for a reason I’ll not quite vouch for Strange are people and stranger am I Always find a reason, which probably is not there at all

I’m a paranoid, a loser, still ready to lose Whatever little is there in my hands now Can’t help being so bitterly honest Had to say all these things, silence can never go long.