The CM is dead. Long live the CM !
Le CM est mort, vive le CM !
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Night-In-Gale
It started with James Gregory's memoirs
Of Robben Island's most famous prisoner
Followed by a Liam Neeson double bill
Biopics about a biologist turned sexologist
And Sinn Fein's most famous Irishman
It didn't stop there as we found them inspired
By Lynard Skynard, no, not the "define irony" one
But the other one with the title itself
And finally prison walls that were adorned by
Rita Hayworth, Marilyn Monroe and Raquel Welch
It was morning by then and the Best Cafe it was
Did they ever freeze over in hell and rename it from the Sad
The morning news was nowhere to be seen
So with Passion and a Ten-ner he roamed the concrete
Met one barely 20 metres from where he revved up
No exact change with either got him one free
And Ogilvy smiled from wherever he was
Customers are wife material indeed
The coffee took longer obviously
See, the benefits, of being an insomniac !!!
Of Robben Island's most famous prisoner
Followed by a Liam Neeson double bill
Biopics about a biologist turned sexologist
And Sinn Fein's most famous Irishman
It didn't stop there as we found them inspired
By Lynard Skynard, no, not the "define irony" one
But the other one with the title itself
And finally prison walls that were adorned by
Rita Hayworth, Marilyn Monroe and Raquel Welch
It was morning by then and the Best Cafe it was
Did they ever freeze over in hell and rename it from the Sad
The morning news was nowhere to be seen
So with Passion and a Ten-ner he roamed the concrete
Met one barely 20 metres from where he revved up
No exact change with either got him one free
And Ogilvy smiled from wherever he was
Customers are wife material indeed
The coffee took longer obviously
See, the benefits, of being an insomniac !!!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Oona baby ...
"Eat me", she seemed to cry as she lay there rather stiff
She wriggled to a corner, like she were shy, like her first
He knew she'd never been "done" before
She wouldn't have been in front of him in that case
Understandably, she was fairly hot
It had taken her quite a while to get there
His mouth watered at the sight in front of him
He was starving, he wanted her badly,
He took her gently, and squeezed her midriff
Taken aback at the way things flowed he quickly bit into her
She tasted just like he knew she would, magical, virginal
He seemed to have heard the rest of her cry out again,
"Eat me", a little more desperate, hoarser, more guttural
It seemed to come from the bottom of her stomach
He couldn't wait anylonger, he needed the whole of her inside him
With a scoop he took in the whole of what was left
It was the best fish and caviare he had in a long time
Amma makes it beautifully, Sigh what an anti-climax
P.S: Shouldn't the title have been Tuna Baby !!!
She wriggled to a corner, like she were shy, like her first
He knew she'd never been "done" before
She wouldn't have been in front of him in that case
Understandably, she was fairly hot
It had taken her quite a while to get there
His mouth watered at the sight in front of him
He was starving, he wanted her badly,
He took her gently, and squeezed her midriff
Taken aback at the way things flowed he quickly bit into her
She tasted just like he knew she would, magical, virginal
He seemed to have heard the rest of her cry out again,
"Eat me", a little more desperate, hoarser, more guttural
It seemed to come from the bottom of her stomach
He couldn't wait anylonger, he needed the whole of her inside him
With a scoop he took in the whole of what was left
It was the best fish and caviare he had in a long time
Amma makes it beautifully, Sigh what an anti-climax
P.S: Shouldn't the title have been Tuna Baby !!!
Monday, July 20, 2009
drove a chevy to the levee ..
And I stood arrow straight
Unencumbered by the weight
Of all these hustlers and their schemes
I stood proud, I stood tall
High above it all
I still believed in my dreams
Twenty years now
Where'd they go?
Twenty years I don't know
Sit and I wonder sometimes
Where they've gone
And sometimes late at night
When I'm bathed in the firelight
The moon comes callin' a ghostly white
And I recall
I Recall
Like a rock.
standin' arrow straight
Like a rock,
chargin' from the gate
Like a rock,
carryin' the weight
Like a rock
Like a rock,
the sun upon my skin
Like a rock,
hard against the wind
Like a rock,
I see myself again
Like a rock
~ Bob Seger, Like a Rock
Unencumbered by the weight
Of all these hustlers and their schemes
I stood proud, I stood tall
High above it all
I still believed in my dreams
Twenty years now
Where'd they go?
Twenty years I don't know
Sit and I wonder sometimes
Where they've gone
And sometimes late at night
When I'm bathed in the firelight
The moon comes callin' a ghostly white
And I recall
I Recall
Like a rock.
standin' arrow straight
Like a rock,
chargin' from the gate
Like a rock,
carryin' the weight
Like a rock
Like a rock,
the sun upon my skin
Like a rock,
hard against the wind
Like a rock,
I see myself again
Like a rock
~ Bob Seger, Like a Rock
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Der Sohn Spricht
In the years that have passed since
I've thought of you every single day
The pain has numbed
But hope hasn’t yet betrayed
I thought there’d be anger
But that’s never been my forte
I respect the choice to be far away, but
Love her much to stop the search halfway
If you do choose to return, maybe, we’ll have a smoke man to man
Exchange tales that only grown men would understand
Dread the moment when you shall not be missed
Can’t see it in the horizon even if the sun were kissed
In the years that have passed since
I've thought of you every single day
The pain has numbed
But hope just hasn’t betrayed
I've thought of you every single day
The pain has numbed
But hope hasn’t yet betrayed
I thought there’d be anger
But that’s never been my forte
I respect the choice to be far away, but
Love her much to stop the search halfway
If you do choose to return, maybe, we’ll have a smoke man to man
Exchange tales that only grown men would understand
Dread the moment when you shall not be missed
Can’t see it in the horizon even if the sun were kissed
In the years that have passed since
I've thought of you every single day
The pain has numbed
But hope just hasn’t betrayed
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Crazy Diamonds ...
Him: Okay, first things first. He is now the Greatest. Now, even greater than that stupid, tongue-drooping-out like a greyhound, drooling-in-spittle like a baby, Pistol Pee (for his name I shall not utter), that you so adored. With 15 slams and a French Open, the only thing that could have helped the Pistol remain the greatest was to have shot "The Greatest" with that rusted Pistol of his before this year's Roland Garros, or even better at Roland Garros. Alas, all Pistol could manage was to come dapperly dressed to Center court and wear dark shades to camouflage his weepy blood-shot eyes.
Her: Can you imagine my dilemma? I badly wanted Fed-ex to win, but if he does, Pistol's record would be broken and then I felt even worse when A-Rod broke down into tears. Do you even realise how difficult it was rooting for Fed-ex, feeling bad for Pistol and then feeling guilty about rooting for Fed-Ex when A-Rod cried. Gosh how could you not empathise and understand the pain.
She was never able to watch a Pistol-Pee match without having her face buried in her palms. Even when the Pistol was 40-0 up and serving for the match at 6-0, 6-0, 5-0. When he was younger he didn’t even try watching the greatest Germans ever to grace a Tennis court, Fraulein-Forehand and Boom-Boom-Bee, play. He loved them too much to want to watch them lose. In 1989, when he saw them on the cover of The Sportstar, posing at the Winners’ ball in SW19 he predicted marriage. He was even willing to play cupid. Nobody ever asked him to. The Fraulein went on to marry another of his favourites, The-Rebel-turned-comeback-kid-turned-elder-statesman. Incidentally, it was the 1999 Winners’ ball at Roland Garros that kicked off their romance, and of course, the Boom-Boom went on to screw a waitress in a broom cupboard at Cafe Nobu, Soho, London.
He didn’t like Pistol-Pee. He found him too drab. Uninteresting. She was the indulging elder sister. She cheered for all the ones he wanted to win. In the end she was the only one cheering as he wasn’t watching. And his "not watching bouts" extended to the Fed-Ex who would eventually become the greatest. The Spaniards’ turn will come too.
This is not about those hallowed gladiators who fight within the confines of the 78 feet X 27 feet battlefield. This is about us. Who could be the crazier of the two?
P.S: Will somebody put an end to his “him-her”/ “he-she” nonsense? He’s been on it for the last 3 posts now
Her: Can you imagine my dilemma? I badly wanted Fed-ex to win, but if he does, Pistol's record would be broken and then I felt even worse when A-Rod broke down into tears. Do you even realise how difficult it was rooting for Fed-ex, feeling bad for Pistol and then feeling guilty about rooting for Fed-Ex when A-Rod cried. Gosh how could you not empathise and understand the pain.
She was never able to watch a Pistol-Pee match without having her face buried in her palms. Even when the Pistol was 40-0 up and serving for the match at 6-0, 6-0, 5-0. When he was younger he didn’t even try watching the greatest Germans ever to grace a Tennis court, Fraulein-Forehand and Boom-Boom-Bee, play. He loved them too much to want to watch them lose. In 1989, when he saw them on the cover of The Sportstar, posing at the Winners’ ball in SW19 he predicted marriage. He was even willing to play cupid. Nobody ever asked him to. The Fraulein went on to marry another of his favourites, The-Rebel-turned-comeback-kid-turned-elder-statesman. Incidentally, it was the 1999 Winners’ ball at Roland Garros that kicked off their romance, and of course, the Boom-Boom went on to screw a waitress in a broom cupboard at Cafe Nobu, Soho, London.
He didn’t like Pistol-Pee. He found him too drab. Uninteresting. She was the indulging elder sister. She cheered for all the ones he wanted to win. In the end she was the only one cheering as he wasn’t watching. And his "not watching bouts" extended to the Fed-Ex who would eventually become the greatest. The Spaniards’ turn will come too.
This is not about those hallowed gladiators who fight within the confines of the 78 feet X 27 feet battlefield. This is about us. Who could be the crazier of the two?
P.S: Will somebody put an end to his “him-her”/ “he-she” nonsense? He’s been on it for the last 3 posts now
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