Rambling thoughts at midnight.

Rambling thoughts at midnight.
Inconsequential and perpetual pondering under 

blessed stars- opprobrious yet well-nigh productive.

These ramblings of a teenager’s mind have protean pretexts 

and such a definite uncertainty- so as much as to envisage 

and dwell upon nothingness for hours together.

What-not have I wondered about around the midnight hour!

When dimness can be this enlightening and

where silences can whisper thoughts.

When the night is serene and the moon is atop.

When philosophy turns as the modus operandi

for the matter in grey;

thoughts turn into an auroral splendour until 

the next bloody day.

Saying along what one would wonder- wouldn’t that be interesting?

Think about the burble, one with an eccentric charm.

To find the one, as there can’t be no more who’d rather sleep

than ramble at the bewitching hour, 

one needs to search for years and years, maybe a chiliad.
Obnoxious, pretentious, undesirable and perhaps lethal

but a necessity, yes, that’s right.

An innocuous suggestion to those who still doubt-

perhaps you could give it a thought at midnight!
-Hariharan Sriram (The Skookum).
 

The Pizzaz of English

The pizzazz of English.

Picture, O reader, an Orchestra- humbly defying thy expectations.

Unseen and overlooked, this ensemble of elegance addressed 

to one and all as Language, is the epitome of pulchritude. 

Hear the Orchestra, for it follows.
‘Hear’ well and you’ll know, 

the oink of the pig or the tic-tac of the clock;

the hiccup from the throat or cooing of the flock;

are all mere words but yet onomatopoeic.
Now, ‘hear’ well and contemplate too

for what follows might amaze you.

So the homophone that rang belonged to which witch?
Now sing along and say it right, 

irrespective of your soprano or thick, 

‘Arabian Sands’ are vast 

thence comes your synecdoche. 

Thou sang along; albeit all wrong.

Oh Fudge! Oh fish!

Thou art euphemistically dysphemis.
Having said it wrong, let’s kompose and write –

like the ku klux klan have satirikally misspelled.

Did’ya cnow? They replaked the C with the K and 

Kaused kaos uncnowingly.
For thy birth they merged, thy wer and thy wyf 

Speaking of chaos, I couldn’t resist;

to mention thy birth and for that I shall

shoutout to thy wer and thy wyf.
I shall try to be a paronomastic man, 

But, I’m big and large- as thou can see

and I’m not one to be puny.

Wavered, pondering and lost all hope?

Fret not, O reader, here comes more.

Meet the Antanaclasis, informing thee that

time flies like an arrow; flies like banana.
Did you ever know the story 

where there lies glory

for the blind carpenter who 

picked up his hammer and saw? 

O reader, you’ve been hit by 

syntactic ambiguity, hard and raw.
Take a walk on the garden path and find thou shall

whatever lies above this.
Shoutout to Steven Wright for his analogy was right

For he said that he knew and he wasn’t speaking of the right,

“On the other hand…… you have five other fingers.”
And for the one liner that she read, humorous perhaps;

her hair too wasn’t red, but she surely didn’t get,

what the ‘one-liner’ was meant to be cause

some blond joke, get it?
-Hariharan Sriram (The Skookum).