“I haven’t slept enough…”
“The Quality of Sleep…”, he could have very well said
But chose instead to have “mercy” read –
Shakespeare knew that mercy counts
When Damocles blithely threatens in this world so oft
But little did he know of the world’s bounds
And thus, why it does not let me sleep, nor does it Lara Croft?
There was the boy who ran hither and thither
And there was another who cursed himself to wed and wither
And along came the third - he blew me away, as a wind could the feather,
Alas! He flew instead, and me? Groping for him in nebulous aether!
And now you hear me in constant refrain,
“I haven’t slept enough, nor in six months have I lain…”
My loins burn, so does my heart
But whom do I tell, when I am everyone’s burden cart?
Neither shall I let weed devour me, nor from reel sagas shall I part
But tell me, old friend, why should I sit quiet and hold on to that obscene fart?
And so you hear me in constant refrain,
“I haven’t slept enough, nor in six months have I lain…”
There was a time in slumberland, when swords were drawn -
A bloated Amartya Sen indulging in paterabuse, branding me a “daft prawn”!!
I remember, old friend, your clear laugh, and those of others, at this feat of brain over brawn
But did you hug me, nay, stop for me, when all was but the bruise of a single thorn?
And so you hear me in constant refrain,
“I haven’t slept enough, nor in six months have I lain…”
O Censorious mind, of you I take fright!
O Judgmental mind, of you I have deep dislike!
O abusive kind, you make me strangely distraite!
O ‘clutchy’ kind, you shake me by the grip of your might!
Away, I say, all ones of your kinds, begone!
And let me sleep - its time for the blinds to be drawn.
And so from now there may be no refrain
That “I neither slept, nor in six months have I lain…”
16.xii.2006
But chose instead to have “mercy” read –
Shakespeare knew that mercy counts
When Damocles blithely threatens in this world so oft
But little did he know of the world’s bounds
And thus, why it does not let me sleep, nor does it Lara Croft?
There was the boy who ran hither and thither
And there was another who cursed himself to wed and wither
And along came the third - he blew me away, as a wind could the feather,
Alas! He flew instead, and me? Groping for him in nebulous aether!
And now you hear me in constant refrain,
“I haven’t slept enough, nor in six months have I lain…”
My loins burn, so does my heart
But whom do I tell, when I am everyone’s burden cart?
Neither shall I let weed devour me, nor from reel sagas shall I part
But tell me, old friend, why should I sit quiet and hold on to that obscene fart?
And so you hear me in constant refrain,
“I haven’t slept enough, nor in six months have I lain…”
There was a time in slumberland, when swords were drawn -
A bloated Amartya Sen indulging in paterabuse, branding me a “daft prawn”!!
I remember, old friend, your clear laugh, and those of others, at this feat of brain over brawn
But did you hug me, nay, stop for me, when all was but the bruise of a single thorn?
And so you hear me in constant refrain,
“I haven’t slept enough, nor in six months have I lain…”
O Censorious mind, of you I take fright!
O Judgmental mind, of you I have deep dislike!
O abusive kind, you make me strangely distraite!
O ‘clutchy’ kind, you shake me by the grip of your might!
Away, I say, all ones of your kinds, begone!
And let me sleep - its time for the blinds to be drawn.
And so from now there may be no refrain
That “I neither slept, nor in six months have I lain…”
16.xii.2006
posted by Dumaketu at 7:25 AM
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