Of lovers in love (not)

I'm alone and in a rut

need to think of something but

there's a feeling in my gut

I won't make sense

to naught anyone but me

and that's the way that it will be

because I cannot really see

past this pretence.

We can tug and we can try

strain our hearts and even cry

but this life will just go by

without a chance

at a state of real connection,

for the trappings of affection

are merely imperfection,

best viewed askance.

Life has things of more import,

my dear friend, I do exhort

you to speedily abort

this futile plan

lest the feeling should take hold

and then get so very bold

and then completely enfold

as well it can.

And so I must tell you this,

before you fall in the abyss

of this temporary bliss,

so listen well.

Resist! Though you be drawn,

for the shine will soon be gone

and the cold hard light of dawn

all dreams dispel.

You may well ask me why

despite all this we still defy

all good sense and yet retry

to love invoke.

Upon most grave reflection

of this fateful predilection,

I must say natural selection

played a joke.

The World's Largest Democracy

Pretty paper banners
fluttering in the street,
Smiling faces, nailed-in grins,
at every corner meet.
Oh! It is that time again
to make a chump of reason.
Brace yourself and prepare
for 'tis election season.
Oranges dressed as saffron,
greens and whites shining
Kites, palms and lotuses
up the streets are lining.
Don't forget brand new brooms,
old elephants and things
and all the random symbols
this lovely season brings.
Candidates come to larger-than-life,
each pose in mint condition,
desirable by patronage,
illustrious by omission.
Come all ye faithful
begin the ritual cleaning
of ideas and ideals and
reflections of great meaning.
Let us pretend for now
that we know what's going on
who does what, with whom, and why,
(for how much) and so on.
Hurry up now, Indians all,
time to take a stand!
Despite ideologies, you know,
the value's in the brand.
Let the voting force march out,
kingmakers that we are,
Get that ink-spot and revel
in the utterly bizarre
conviction that, this time, justice
in some sense has been done
And then insist, 2-years-post,
that the biggest conman won.