Poem I wrote in class

Hi, so, one Friday morning, we were given six colours representing six emotions in class. We had to use them to describe the whole week. I decided to use words instead of crayons.

Anxiety – orange
Excitement – yellow
Love – red
Anger – black
Happiness – green
Sorrow – brown


Only when I was about to shade
My Sunday circle in the distinctive ethnic ware contrast
Of red and green, I realized that
The events demanded accents of orange.
I must confess that I don’t quite agree
With the colour coordination. I’d feel quite black
If I were told to wear red, green and orange in one outfit.

However, Monday opened black,
Since green lies in retrospect.
But somewhere, some Greek goddess decided
To not let me endure another colour coordination catastrophe.
So the day drew to a close
In a fresh shade of olive green
Under the black sky. Cheers.

Tuesday came to remain leaf green,
But there might have been tinctures
Of dull red and beaming lemon Yellow.

Wednesday meant to be black and brown
And black and brown it was.
Gosh, the Gothic feels!
A fleck of red lipstick wouldn’t have hurt.

Thursday was black and red.
Half and half –has my day ever begun light bright?
But red happened when twilight pursued.

Friday began red,
A love affair between my blanket and me,
It blazed ruby till it turned a warning shade of orange,
Setting eyelids on fire to wrench them open
Time for class!

This ditty hasn’t yet seen
The dawn break of Saturday,
Nor the blood red sun of this Friday eve
So it knows not the next shade!

#IUnderstandCuriosityNotDoucheBaggery

"How do you hit on the hot guys
All the time, Sai Pie?
How do you know?"
I’ve been asked
More than once,
A bazillion times even
By the same curious ass of a friend.

I confessed that I didn't know how.
I really didn't.
And the ass of a friend
Didn't believe me.

Surely, she suspected…
What, witchcraft?
I believe in Harry Potter and wand waving
And incantations, you see!
Well, jokes apart.

It was a heated discussion. It took me over a year
To work things out for myself.
I started wondering if I had the psychological process
Of following trends and developing a liking for every good-looking person
And every nice thing that people talked about.
I kept dissecting every nice thing I said to someone:
“Do I really believe she sends out classy vibes?”
“Is he actually that sexy?”
“Are my hormones okay?”

Trust me, mate,
It was a mental warfare
And a constant pain in the ass till…
I figured basic biology out.

There’s a reason why we have five sensory receptors.
If one doesn’t work,
The others will compensate for it.

Then I simply had to focus on
What I liked.
After all…
Beauty is subjective.

Now, tell me.
Can an intelligent brain grasp nonsense?
If your answer is no, read on.

Do you realise how much you give away,
When you first start talking?
I do!
For one…
I can hear you breathe!

I know your tone, Darling.
I know your dialect,
Your choice of topic, and
Everything you're not saying!
I can tell the difference between
A stammering brain-worker
And a stuttering dumb fuck,
Thank you very much!

Because…
A visually challenged blogger I once read wrote
"A voice can reveal emotion
More than the possible lie of an expression."
And because the size of your thesaurus
Does not matter, how you use it
Is what counts.

Now…
Say Indianapolis,
And say Indian nipples!
(Another funny bit I found on the internet.)

I can smell you. Even at a distance
Of 10.54 inches.
So if your sweat mixes with something strong
That you've bathed in, then…
Well, you're bound to give me…
Ahh-choo!
Are you an incense stick?

Also, brush your teeth and take a shower
If you respect the respiratory systems of
People who are and aren’t visually challenged.
You’re doing the world a favour by using
Water, even though it is precious and all!

I can feel you moving and making gestures.
It’s just the difference
Your body mass makes in the air.
Remember that feeling…
Of creepy unease before
You notice someone staring at you?
Same logic.
So don’t even think of groping
Or walking in to my personal bubble!

Touch? I like solid muscle
And deliciously firm skin.
Stubble?
Yes, please.
Pouty lips?
Whew!

I need a man
With good conversational skills,
Alive sense of humour and other nice things
He wants to bring along with respect and loyalty.

I’ve covered almost all the senses,
Including common sense
Excluding visual modality
For obvious reasons and
Taste for, well,
Obvious reasons.

So…
In a nutshell…
Hot men are not hot because they look hot.
Hot men look hot because they are hot.
Ever seen a smart woman clench her stomach
Over ninnies with abs and all that jazz?

Attention, attention
This is more important than…
Leonardo DyCapreo’s Playboy boxers
And the hash tagged title of this astute word mess
Because the hash tagged ending is…
#There’sSoMuchMoreToBeingBlindThanMeetsTheEye