Getting Worse -Poem

Valmiki
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The lowering of hope with the passing of time

Led to the ineffectual habit of writing rhyme

And once hooked I quickly became stuck

Even poetically I ran out of luck

I wriggled I squiggled I thought really hard

But I hate to admit I am no bard

I guess I have what they call the writer’s block

Where you sit and stare at the passing of the clock

Hoping you catch the muse again by its tail

Ride the surf some more and do not fail

This poem is getting bad I must be getting on your nerve

I am going off on a tangent on the poetic curve

Well I guess I must then stop I am out of words

And throw this limerick out for the birds

Again I apologize for wasting your time

Poets after all are a dozen per dime

But if in spite of that if I gave you some relief

From the daily mundanity and its accompanying grief

Don’t thank me then just thank the muse

I just play with words having nothing to lose.

A Poem on Demand

On Demand entertainment I need to hear
On Demand information of webcasts, white papers dear
On demand downloads of information I am told I really need
Sometimes it is tough to keep which is shallow what is deep

Is it really on demand or were you overwhelmed and manipulated by the supply
On Demand Supply and estimates of forecasts of influencer of the demand
Friendship is also on demand

But Loneliness is Free and Open Source
And so is Freedom

How many Fans, Followers, Likes can you get
Before your critical mass makes you Viral
Like a Video Bieber whose clothes are torn by crowds

Searching for your 900 seconds of On Demand fame
You want to be paid on demand but work only on a creative fancy
Your on demand laziness is too demanding now
Ceteras Paribus, On demand is too much to demand
and much too on always on 24 7

Give me a book a friend and some peace and quiet
Bet you things arent there on supply but always on demand
Or are they?

The Writer

Sorry, the words went, we cant offer you a contract
The cheque is in the mail, said another
I will send the contract shortly, was a thirds refrain
Not now, maybe next year, decade or century

Writers, unite
Nothing to lose,
but your editors and creditors

So once again,
going back to the broken worn laptop,
hammering away keys, to ham away the stoic egoistic grief

You are in the wrong country, color, class,
Just when you thought you got the hang of the game,
The game flipped, from rugby to basketball,
but not quite cricket.

You have been hanging out with the rich kids again,
with the richness of your thoughts to compensate,
for the inadequacy of your pocket.

Time to come back,
Dear writer,
It is time to write.

The Email Group

 

I had a query and needed an answer pronto

I have an email group that reaches from Beijing to Toronto

People are real smart on that group and mostly help

Let me write an email and then sit back and delve

In my hurry and my enthusiasm

I made mistakes, kind of electronic spasms

CC-ed the wrong email list and now that is done

My query is unresolved but my e-ordeal just begun

 

Responder A says “too many links dude”

Are you on the payroll, or are you just rude

Responder B says “ you cant win too many pals”

By Emailing academics about corporate stalls

Responder S was the best, he said this is spam

With my e-reputation in tatters, I did a face-palm

Apologized, sent feel good notes, but people were still angry

Maybe they get too much spam daily, and now they get a chance to vent on me

 

Spam is the enemy, unwittingly I helped create.

And the nice (and verrry big) email group can sometimes be provoked to hate.

Sorry Guys, I promise to be careful when I write

Can you answer my question, or do you still want to fight?