Painted You Silly With My All Idealistic Broad-Brush

Avishek Sahu
September 19, 2017

Roamed the streets feeling merry from the betrayal
Let’s stretch it I thought to see how’ll be my portrayal
When a friend asked me to imagine a water body
And I chose a waterfall to see so much pain on a nobody
Didn’t take it to heart, I was young then but not so callow
I knew I’d win, but the hopes just couldn’t make me shallow
Didn’t know what I was looking for, just knew I had to relate
To the deepest mischief, the desires, and the vengeance I predate
So I don’t get moved when I see you as a simpleton
Years of walking makes me see through Franklin Templeton
If you could buy me with cash I would have made it with my first crush
And not painted you silly with my all idealistic broad-brush

They keep the cash off me and wonder why I lay low,
They can’t handle the other side, let them try with that wild blow
I wasn’t primed in Yale, nor was I spoilt in the big schools
I sharpened my wares with the road, with an eye on their cesspools
So let them shimmy around laughing hard at my bank balance
It was taken so down to leaven the road to your grace’s prevalence
When there won’t be no huff to wonder how we made it
When there won’t be no puff to figure how we’ll shade it
So while the city goes crazy from what it’s all come down to
Reconcile with my quest to have two monsters to come home to
For if you could buy me with cash I would have made it with my first crush
And not painted you silly with my all idealistic broad-brush

When I Saw The Monster in You…

Avishek Sahu
September 4, 2017

Writing so well, I thought I had it all cut out
To go on some far, thinking not about being put out
Till I realized a part of me was looking for some succour
Not from money in the wallet, not from a date with a hooker
You seemed so calm, talking about the worldly stuff
Not one to small talk, not one to leave off in a huff
When the pressure would just mount, asking you to pay the price
For being a small-town gift, for being such understated spice
That was when I thought you had a monster sleeping in you fast
Keeping an eye on motion, also an eye on things that last
It was a day in the sun right after a stormy dreamy night
When I saw the monster in you smile at me like you own me tight

The boys all around you never seemed to find the dealings fun
When the edge in the air didn’t make me sing you on the run
It had to be that way for wasn’t I warring with a double-edge
With a cigarette in hand, dropping droppings on the building’s hedge
Then wasn’t I smart, to know the stuff that was troubling you
You had to get this far, and you couldn’t do that just walking through
You needed trust as a must, and you couldn’t throw that all nonchalantly
You needed space from the lust, and you couldn’t spurn that space malevolently
That was when I saw, all the blues that you had to iron out
Sitting in the cold, with that evil grin and dismissive pout
It was a day in the sun right after a stormy dreamy night
When I saw the monster in you smile at me like you own me tight

The Punt is in the Wait for the Flow to hit Prime Time

Avishek Sahu
September 2, 2017

Never been enough to spend the days in such slumber
Wondering how it’ll be to wait for the next number
Calculated at last to do justice to the long drive
Made not on a hunch but for some Queen Bee reprieve
But ain’t I the one that ran away from duties
Tossing it all away with the money and the cuties
For just another shot at the old mind theories
That were forming up so cool with the road’s last purees
So now that I am back in the thick of your desires
Licking my old wounds till they all fall by the barbed wires
Weren’t they put up all about to have me lick dirt and grime
So my punt is in the wait for the flow to hit prime time

It has to be my way, for the highway sings my tunes
No shortcut to the movies, no shortcut to the sand dunes
The people you have around won’t have me stealing their piece
The people I have around won’t have me selling their peace
So brace up for the chance to make an offer he can’t just spurn
Not with his dime smelling black to see the world burn
Patience is no virtue, it’s the stuff that make legends stick
It’s the stuff that gets you down, it’s the stuff that makes my game tick
So what would work its charms is what you have to just figure out
With my life on the line, the work for me is so cut out
With a pay finely pruned there’s no need for me to go chasing slime
So my punt is in the wait for the flow to hit prime time

Is it my Dad or is it Me?!

Avishek Sahu
July 25, 2017

Have seen pictures of my childhood, never figured out what made me so happy
Looked for luxury in the background, found only my smile grown up from a nappy
There must have been an aura, or the wisdom you learnt in big schools
Or there must have been the wisdom that you brought when your Dad brooked no fools
Whatever it was, it isn’t easy living with that burden of lightness
That sprung all around me when the world all around was plunging to darkness
It isn’t easy remembering those days for no man would like to be in debt
A debt that can’t be surmounted, not in a million years, that both of us would readily bet
So I hear it’s your birthday, and that calls for some kind of celebration
A celebration of debt that I intend to burden with fancy states of inebriation

Now listen to me carefully Oh father, that likes victory coming single-handedly
You should have asked for a little help, or at least have let me known what troubled so unabatedly
If you chose not to, remember that you are cushioning me in luxury
The luxury of indebtedness, forgotten in a bout of debauchery
But I ain’t no fool, I wouldn’t let you take all the spoils of sweet victory
I am going to do you a favor, so you know favors don’t just birth in your factory
I am going to tell you I love you, in spite of all the tiffs we have shared
I am going to admit you won, despite all the talent you think I have bared
So celebrate being the boss, celebrate another chapter of encumbering me in debt
But I’ll even things out, and call you a friend, just like what we had once bet

Mothers’ World

Avishek Sahu
May 14, 2017

In a world where it’s tough being alone
A mother comes along to let the truth be known
That in a solitude of a bird looking for a prey
Is a tale of two mothers sitting apart hoping for light of the day
Kept hostage by the tales of the night
When the owl shudders in spite of its vicious might
So let the snake raise its hood and spew its venom far
Over the shoulder of the bird and beyond the prey in his car
It was never about the hunter, the hunted, or the kill
It was always a tale of two mothers, sending us a very long bill!

Happy Mother’s Day!

Playing Left With The Rock Band

Avishek Sahu
March 21, 2017

The schmooze in the booze wouldn’t keep up the downtime
When the rhyme gets the dime in the wink of a weed-mime
Nixed early in the soil to get you early to the center
Where you’ve been wanting so loud to fart when you enter
Your trip to the hills brought a tickle right down there
Thinking of you pushing with a glee of a stripped hare
Brushing down the pride you built for the project
Before you just got me to push the pedal on the eject
Now the hills then told me that was the start of the upside
If I could just see through the kicks land on my backside
With your grace by the window smirking wild at your pinstripes
Tearing through my mission with the passion of your wetwipes
Hot headed that you seemed seeking fast to say complete
With your buddies so giggly hoping hard for a retreat
I knew I had to wait to play Left with the Rock Band
Cause I visioned you shaking your raw deal with your right hand

Then your pawns all seemed ready with the pinch of the contraband
To get me in the hay without the air of a firebrand
That you saw in the charts I was crawling so off towards
With narry a chance to pull off the grave rewards
Ha you chuckled when I struck home the ta ta
You had your college all ready to tie me up for Bata
Stitched in the den of your frightful dear subordinate
Lining up at joints with that loyalty so inordinate
One look at her glance I knew what was driving her
So just were your gifts that she beheld behind that purr
Hoping to fashion out the coup of a lifetime
Dousing the hopes of a joker seeking playtime
But the stuff of the kitchen can’t make the likes of you sing ‘retard’
When the holes in your pockets leak everytime I push hard
To the charms of those arms while playing Left with the Rock Band
And a vision of you shaking your raw deal with your right hand

Don’t ask me why I thought I just wouldn’t cut through
To the side of your hunger that you fed with a breakthrough
Brought about by owning the cops and the wild hops
And the whole white world seeking paydirt from hip-hops
I just sensed in the cell of an egg-shaped nemesis
The wafting tight smell of a lithe young psychosis
Spreading through my system with the rush of a thunderstorm
Reminding of some time I didn’t have to crawl around like a worm
Picking up the pieces that the trees wouldn’t stop throwing at me
Laughing at the mess I just thought I could barely see
And the walls all closing fast with the clamour of a riot mob
That’s when I saw that little hole I had to latch on to or sit and sob
That hole was the hay you had ironed out to tie me up
And break me up so deep I wouldn’t want to risk getting up
But then I had to make it flow playing Left with the Rock Band
With the visions of you shaking your raw deal with your right hand

Secularism Has Been Reinvented!

Avishek Sahu
March 21, 2017

Saba Naqvi writes in a TOI editorial that ‘There is actually precious little that the Indian secular state has given the Muslim community except to ensure that they live for eternity in the museum of stereotypes’. That is true; very true indeed; but that’s because the concept of the Indian secular state was created to give the Muslim community very little and fob off the consequence on the eternally repressed Hindutva narrative. Reality consists of layers, and it takes effort and energy to unravel them. The layer that the Indian subcontinent presides in consists of a chasm created by the European concept of Indian secular state specifically designed to serve European interests. The sustenance of this chasm has been the raison d’être of Europe-backed political interests and Hindutva was a convenient foil for them to play two sides. A secular state doesn’t consist of external powers presiding over two conflicting forces. A secular state consists of two conflicting forces coming together to counter foreign powers. This coming together could have various manifestations. It could come together with the minority force calling the shots: a ghastly idea considering history has always persuaded the majority to swallow its pride; or it could come together with the majority force calling the shots, and in the process, assuage its long-hurt pride, thereby permitting it to look out for the greater populace that covers a significant surface area of its underpinnings. Hurt pride can only look out for itself; pride revived creates a protective aura that goes way beyond the bailiwick of the subject. So, what the two competing forces have to figure out is whose pride needs to be revived first, because if there is a race on the matter of ‘first beneficiary of the indigenous halo’, in comes the money from the alps to divvy up your wares again, playing you against each other like fools, and keeping you both from claiming what’s yours, rightfully yours, by virtue of being a piece of the same glorious swathe of earth!

Heady in the Habitat!

Avishek Sahu
March 16, 2017

Spun me a line to crease the pant I wore last time
What pant is a pant that won’t let me build a dark rhyme
That I need when the zip gives way to the fly trap
And the mood just don’t seem to snuffle her damn claptrap
With the grunt giving way to the schmooze of a lifetime
I can’t keep it apart for the birds singing two-time
So to make sense of the fuss that crams clinging baby rat
I made a move oh so scary to go heady in the habitat

Moved to the left to heave into the possible
Then shifted to the right when they showed me what’s impossible
With the glitter in the litter looking sick from the commotion
And the nigger oh so bitter going hick with all devotion
Hey nigger it’s the story that I pressed you to learn about
When the catches from the ocean thought you really worth a pout
And you latched on to the train that went around the same city
Thinking it would fly you out with me to a place of pity

Now the mission’s all clear for the group built on vanity
When the questions all over about the state of my sanity
And the pressers for the trip giving way to the riverside
Where I told you it was clear you wouldn’t pull me to the other side
So sit back there nigger where my horses wouldn’t just let you be
In a state so calm they get to know what you really see
About the oceans in the air swinging out again to steal your cat
When I make a move oh so scary to go heady in the habitat


Avishek Sahu
February 25, 2017

Most people when working in an organisation face this psychological situation where they think they are being underpaid, or that they are worth more. This is how it should be, because a platform is designed so you can perform on it, not sit back and sulk. At these times it is important to realize that you are not really being underpaid, that the organisation life-cycle at most times will not match the speed of your performance or progress. To give the organisation time to reorient itself to match and reward the new competency awareness generated in the past cycle is an elementary design that behooves all ambitious employees, and must be pursued with zest by all those who seek a rewarding career unless they fail to realize that the fulfillment of personal potential depends on a wide variety of factors that have nothing to do with personal competence, for had that not been the case, we’d not have substandard celebrities peddling nonsense for fun!

The Biggie’s Last Cry

Avishek Sahu
January 27, 2017

Griping at your peers with the fruits of the wayward
Ticking up for creeps to the mutes in the bee herd
That might all fall away with the sprays of the vulpine
If not with the end of the plants that grow leeward

Freaking out of fear of the goons dunking playtime
Chucking out the nous that comes free with the showtime
Play the part of the fool that goes hung from the lunacy
If not from the tits that go oozy with the dark rhyme

Now comes time for a car that got built by a weirdo
Getting paid to fuck it up like the mistress of a dodo
That got killed trying to find the mojo of his lifetime
In a spite-full of luck made to suck up to the paedo

If it gets too tight stocking leaves up your smart shelves
Lining up your streets like the magic of those white elves
Come singing down the coast of the curse of my sanity
Injected with the juices that we just couldn’t brook ourselves

Okay now biggie with your heart smelling upstarts
With your problems so cosmic and your cat smelling tough farts
Get off the high horse and get my boredom off to parity
With your boredom so loud they got to tell me how it all starts