Wrote these for Inci. One of the topics was a limerick that had to end with ‘…and that was the chicken that killed you’ and another was ‘That bird from Timbuktu’. Timepass writing by me and a long-lost buddy who turned up for Inci…
Into the coop flew
A chick from where, I have no clue
If only the butcher’d seen
The Jap DNA in its meat lean
It wouldnta been the chicken that killed you
This one’s mainly by my long-lost buddy Rajdeep who I met after a real long time during Inci.
The Bird from Timbuktu
There was this chick called Eustreche
From Timbuktu, not Ulrich
Her neck was long, her legs were longer
I’d've dated her, she wasn’t much younger
If it wasn’t for that she was an ostrich
Odd day of the week. Only reason why you wake up is your stomach. The clock is near the right angle. I drag myself out of the bed. I grab a rubbery sort of thing and butter all my fingers. I crawl the long way back to my room and push myself under the bedsheet. There is a pillar in the middle. I stare into it. There is a breeze and the top pages of the pillar flutter. A finger comes brandishing with the wind. The binary numbers are dancing around it. The fingers, the numbers and the pillar are surrounded by a ring. The ring is made up of the letters ‘e’,’n’,’g’,’i’,’n’,’e’,’e’,’r’. There is a huge glass beaker filled with crabs. One is trying with all its might to climb out. Another is pulling it down. There is fox in the well. A goat jumps in. The fox climbs on it and gets out. A snake slithers from behind and strikes with a vicious hiss. There is pyramid. I’m standing somewhere midway. The people at the top look below and laugh their heads off. There is a great thunder in the background. I push myself out of the cosyness and pull the latch. There is a downpour on me. Someone’s thrusting coloured powder into my hand. I’m startled and I throw it around. Everyone scream with joy and cry ‘Happy holi’.