I went to a Party - Anonymous

I went to a party Mom,
I remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink, Mom,
So I drank soda instead.

I really felt proud inside, Mom,
The way you said I would.
I didn't drink and drive, Mom,
Even though the others said I should.

I know I did the right thing, Mom,
I know you are always right.
Now the party is finally ending, Mom,
As everyone is driving out of sight.

As I got into my car, Mom,
I knew I'd get home in one piece.
Because of the way you raised me,
So responsible and sweet.

I started to drive away, Mom,
But as I pulled out into the road,
The other car didn't see me, Mom,
And hit me like a load.

As I lay there on the pavement, Mom,
I hear the policeman say,
"The other guy is drunk," Mom,
And now I'm the one who will pay.

I'm lying here dying, Mom....
I wish you'd get here soon.
How could this happen to me, Mom?
My life just burst like a balloon.

There is blood all around me, Mom,
And most of it is mine.
I hear the medic say, Mom,
I'll die in a short time.

I just wanted to tell you, Mom,
I swear I didn't drink.
It was the others, Mom.
The others didn't think.

He was probably at the same party as I.
The only difference is, he drank
And I will die.

Why do people drink, Mom?
It can ruin your whole life.
I'm feeling sharp pains now.
Pains just like a knife.

The guy who hit me is walking, Mom,
And I don't think it's fair.
I'm lying here dying
And all he can do is stare.

Tell my brother not to cry, Mom.
Tell Daddy to be brave.
And when I go to heaven, Mom,
Put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave.

Someone should have told him, Mom,
Not to drink and drive.
If only they had told him, Mom,
I would still be alive.

My breath is getting shorter, Mom.
I'm becoming very scared.
These are my final moments Mom,
and I'm so unprepared.
Please don't cry for me, Mom.
When I needed you, you were always there.

I wish that you could hold me Mom,
As I lie here and die.
I didn't drink and drive,
So why am I the one to die?


Note: The author of this poem is unknown...
I remember listening to a girl recite it at a competition, and let me honestly tell you, I had a huge lump in my throat by the time she finished... This is one of my favourite poems... I still get goosebumps every time i read it...

Michael Jackson - A Tribute (not an awesome one, but the best I could come up with)

Somehow it’s hard to digest the fact that Pop music’s most erratic, crazy, wrongly accused entertainer is no more... Somehow writing about him won’t do much justice, not that I am trying to do that, but then I have always been of the belief that Michal Jackson was one helluva music composer and dancer, even though majority of the people thought he was a paedophile, a weirdo and a nut-job.

I mean, he revolutionised the music scene. What with his trademark “Red Leather Jacket”, the Moonwalk”, the moves, the grinds, the gyration, the songs... I remember watching a documentary where one woman was talking about being a teenager when Beat It released. She reminisced about how every second person in America had a red leather jacket just like the one he wore for the music video. And the dance moves, who can forget them? The pelvic thrusts, the stiff hand movements, the fast leg crossing... People still use his steps nowadays - it’s the stuff of legends...

It’s a shame that he was always targeted in the negative sense, and people chose to forget who he is and what he does... They started making judgement calls for absolutely no reason... Ok, I agree hanging your child from a balcony is extremely stupid, but then which celebrity hasn’t done asinine things?

Apparently he was coerced into singing as a child, into becoming a member of the “Jackson 5”. None of his brothers who were in the band enjoyed being in it, not one bit. I remember watching a TV show where Jackson told viewers about how he hated being in that ‘child’ band, about how their father forced them into doing it, about how he’d make them practise for hours at a stretch.. Probably all this had a psychological impact on the fellow...

But then when I sit and think about it, I hope he isn't dead and all this is a sham, a huge scandal.. It's a trifling sad he 'died' so suddenly of a heart attack, whilst speculations of skin cancer.. I just hope he isn't dead and this is all just a publicity stunt to get away from the media, from the maddening crowd and enjoy being a recluse and live happily in Neverland, forever... :)

Life Is Too Short...

Life is too short to be taken seriously. I mean, we spend so much time worrying about the past (something we cannot change no matter what we do), or being apprehensive about the future (again- something we have absolutely no control over). What we should do instead, is just enjoy life; take it as it comes. Make the most of 'now' :)
Life is too short to take things for granted. We all do: possessions, wealth, materialistic things, people, health, money etc., without realising that they can all be taken away, 'poof!', just like that.. Nothing is constant. The scene keeps changing. So what is the point in tearing our hair out, worrying about things that are going to change ? What we can do is enjoy what we have right now.. Enjoy the wealth we have, live comfortably, have a decent savings account, love fully and without any inhibitions, exercise to have a healthy body; live and let live.
I know this may sound philosophical, but everything is ephemeral when one sees the biggest picture :)
Life is too short to have regrets. The saddest words one can utter are "what if.." If something feels right, do it. Just do what your heart tells you to do. Do something wild, go indulge in delicious mouth watering cuisines, explore the world, colour your hair electric blue, get a tattoo, para sail/glide, bungee jump, scuba dive, dance like no one's watching, listen to loud music, scream at the top of your lungs - just go wild. You'll have awesome memories and no regrets!!
Life is too short to hold grudges. Forget and forgive. No point harbouring ill feelings towards the guy who snubbed you fifteen years ago :)
Life is too short, but whatever we do have - we can make the most of it and have a blast of a party!!

Six Yards of Allurement

A piece of fabric so intricately woven,
Graceful falls, elegant designs.
When adorned nothing need be spoken,
'Epitome of grace and beauty', it redefines.

Six yards of Silk, Georgette or Cotton,
Violet, blue, green, red, black or even burgundy.
Combining various shades of colours long forgotten,
It transforms her into an ethereal beauty.

A dash of eye shadow, a dab of lipstick,
A spray of seductive perfume.
The twilight flattering her lock's mystique,
Their peace of mind, she consumes.

The Saree is an exquisite enigma,
Making heads turn is its intent.
"Thou shalt intensify her beauty", its dogma,
Six yards of Glamour, Refinement, Shapeliness and Elegance, it represents.

On Mistresses...

Have you ever wondered why men cheat? Is it just a genetic thing? Is it a need for comfort? Or is it just a need to be satisfied, and just one partner doesn’t seem to be enough? Or is it the need for intellectual stimuli?

You never hear of a man cheating on his lover/spouse with someone who is extremely stupid. Generally the mistress is a smart, independent and vivacious individual. Usually the mistress is someone with whom he can talk to about his dreams, aspirations, goals, ambitions and desires. She is someone who understands as she is going through the same thing (if not already been through it). She is the person who is able to talk to him about their common desires, common goals. But she isn't the one who is there for him at the end of the day. She isn't the one who is ether to comfort him and remind him that there is always a tomorrow. However, she is the one with whom he is able to converse and think out loud about whether what he is doing is sensible or not.
The spouse/ lover on the other hand is the one who gives him physical, homely comfort. She is the one who makes sure he is comfortable when he comes home after a tiring day at work. She is the one who is supposed to cook for him. But she isn't the one who he thinks can understand what work he has, what he does, what is important for him. She isn't the one who knows what he goes through at work, as she isn't there. However, she is the one who is there for him, the one he gets to vent his frustration on, the one he can yell at when he has had a bad day at work.

So whom does he choose? Does it really matter? Can’t he have the cake and eat it too? Well, most of the time he does. That is, right until his conscience starts pricking him. Until he realises that he has to make a choice. Does he choose the one who meets his intellectual capacity? The one who shares his dreams and aspirations? The one who is smart and independent and wants to do the same things as him? Or does he choose the one who has always been there for him? The one he gets to come home to after a tiring day at work?

Really, the choice is slightly tough. But if one introspects closely, it really isn’t all that hard. All you have to do is give the right one the choice to be able to do everything the other is doing...

Nobody's Fault But Mine...

My defect is that I'm brown and yellow,
My flaw is that I slither along a crooked line.
My weakness is that I ain't a looker,
Nobody's fault but mine...

My bad luck I'm not bigger,
My vile fortune, on rats I don't dine.
My ill fate I feed on smaller prey,
Nobody's fault but mine..

My rotten luck to have been there,
My abysmal fortune, at the wrong time.
My doomed stars to have been under his blow,
Nobody's fault but mine..

Don't they understand that I am harmless?
Should I move with a 'I am non-poisonous' sign?
Ah, who am I kidding? I'm a snake,
Nobody's fault but mine...

The mind is a fickle friend,
Scores of thoughts and promises it holds.
Deepest and darkest secrets reside within,
Dreams, are its outlet, I was once told...

Never can you really erase a thought,
No matter how hard you try.
It might have just been for a fleeting moment,
But it's there, and your imaginative juices never run dry.

Good, bad, shocking, no matter what,
They're all in there.
Sooner or later, they come creeping out,
Dreams, naked to your soul, they bare...