Dissolving Bikini

http://www.spike.com/blog/how-to-make-girls/84496
--
<

I wrote a song and a half today

I wrote a song and a half  today,and it's called
It's Time to Tape My Toes or the TTMT Song.
The song is sung in broadway style,with a dash of Frank Sinatra for class.
The chord progression is a basic 1 3 5.Feel free to choose your scale.

Any questions,feel free to ask
for asking is free
but answers are not

So lets begin with the song ,the song titled

 

 It's time to tape my toes

It's time to tape my toes    ... x2
I've been walking along
A long walk alone

and I'm hurtin'
and I'm bleedin'
for all my sad tomorrows
and all  bygone friends and foes
and my bloody chafin' toes

So...it's time to tape my toes coz
one can never know
how the wind blows
and take you and show
wherever the winds blow

I've been walkin along
a long walk alone

and I'm hurtin'
and I'm bleedin'
So it's time to tape my toes...(repeat and fade away)

p.s.
(If you want to make it country western  -replace the following  with the suggested ones below
my -mah,
toes -tows,
alone-alown,
and -'n ,
So-sow,
time-ty-eem,
tape-tay-p)

The other half song that I wrote was...
Partners
Sung in the tune of 'The Blue Danube'

Let's be partners in rhyme
and let's do our time
beneath the soft glow of moonshine

Let's be partners in rhyme
and dance all night along
beneath the sky,beside the ocean

This love of ours ,
long and eternal,
needs no magic potion

(to make it pop- increase BPM to 120, insert liberally and randomly the following
"Oh baby" ,"Yeah Baby","My Baby","baby girl" , "Your'e so fine" ,"smooth", "sweet" ,"mmm","silky","love","heart")

--
<

Seasons of the Sun

I couldn't find a more cliched title for this.

Ha ha.

Ha

I think I should stick to camera phones and leave the heavy stuff to the pros...but I'am eyeing a Nikon D60...supposedly a good entry level DSLR AND at a reasonable price (Now available in India!)

--
<

Daughters and Downpour.

Torrential rainfalls lashed across the decks,claps of thunder following close by with slivers of jagged electricity occasionally hurtling downwards from the heavens,in a silent scraggy path of temporal phosphoresecence.

                    Of course it is needless to say that watching the rains is playing the waiting game,and anyone who has played rhe waiting game never knows where it will lead him.It is most likely that within no time one will be lost in one of the hidden alleys down the memory lane.

"The rains have something in them...", He said, "like magic.
                                            
                            One rain,just one rain can do what years of automatic sprinklers and arificial fertilizers cannot do...One good rain and you see

that the earth has bloomed,fresh anew and teeming with life ,and all those plants -  all because of one rain"

                            I said,"I'd like to think so too.There is something magical.It's not just the water- -  it could not be...there's something more to it.Whenever it rains,somehow it seems that the plants are happy,sometimes even joyous in celebration"

He grew silent as we both watched the liquid inundation ,the celestial fireworks and the grey pallor cast by the moist saturated air that hung like thick curtains.I was concerned if I had said something wrong or offensive for him to retreat deeply inwards and be pensive.

                       "My daughter..." He trailed off, lost once again in the hidden alleys down the  memory lane,"My daughter is a very intuitive girl.What you said reminded me of her...always sensitive for age,even when a child" he said pointing at an empty space and then raising his downturned palm upto his waist showing an approximation of a three of four year old kid.

"It was raining once", he said again pointing at the imaginary child of three of four years old,"and she said Look daddy ! The plants are smiling!...there was beauty and simplicity in her statement , a rare thing for a child of that age to say",he said still pointing at empty space where he had temporarily conjured up a daughter full of metaphysical depth and flesh and blood made of ether.

"This other time she began crying because she couldn't stand the cutting down of trees in the city.
                      It was heartwrenching to see her sob and heave with the burden of the shared grief of the fallen trees.It was heartwrenching because all of a sudden I felt very inadequate as a parent and a protector, for I could not ease her pain nor soothe her.I was forced to watch her endure ...

Did you know she wrote poetry?"

And it continued to pour outside while inside I waited to be drenched in the memories of  unknown pasts and unseen lifetimes.

 "-and she reminds me of my eldest daughter." said the other.

                                                           We all assumed that it was his turn.I wasn't married,nor did I have any siblings,male or female.

Nor would they  want to listen to any stories of my mother or my aunts,the only women I knew.So I was naturally the odd man out who was the designated spectator of the ensuing catharsis.

 

And he always began with non-sequitirs that only he understood.

"She's a crazy one.One minute she's reading a book" he said pantomiming the action of reading a huge book, perhaps three feet from spine to the edge of the cover "and the next moment..." he paused and stuck his pinkie in my ear canal and said "she's doing this to irritate me.Or when the missus and I are sitting together and quietly reading ,she'll come out of nowhere and keep her head on my lap and her feet on the missus and take a fake nap.

              On the outside,she looks very studious,serious and level headed but she's always upto some monkey business or the other.She drives me mad sometimes,but that's the reason I keep missing her.Her antics - they always make it hard to forget"

                    "Hmmm..." we chorused and sighed.We all retreated into our caves.We were exposed and fragile.Our memories had made us vulnerable.We needed to be alone to recuperate.

              There were many downpours that night.The one on the outside had stopped,but the others on the inside raged on,with each man sighing at the plight of being reduced to ressurrect homunculi fleshed out from the essence of the hidden alleys down the memory lane and hoping for a better tomorrow when goodbyes were optional and poor substitutes from the hidden alleys down the memory lane were no longer required.

--
<

James Bond never picks his nose in public

This is just the beginning.Comprende?
This is just the fuckin' beginning.
He had heard his boss say all the time.

It was just the beginning...his skin had turned reddish,his nostrils were clogged and his eyes teary all the time.

Lazily he dug deep.Deep assosiations being triggered off in his brain.
His pinky finger was buried down to it's first knuckle - gently probing and prodding...and then- Ah! Found it!

The last of the sunken treasure.

More twisting and probing and gentle manoeuvering of the pinkie finger yeilded a glob,small-grain sized but soft,pliant and resilient  piece of chewed up and spat beef jerky...The sunken treasure, the snot globule finally extricated from the depths of his right nostril shone a reddish rusty shine in the light.

 

This is just the beginning.Comprende?
This is just the fuckin'beginning.
                                   How long has it been?Only three days?In the coming days,weeks,months and years the colour will spread,the glint will spread and metastasize like a malignant tumour.At first your snot,then your spit, to a lesser extent of detection-your blood,and with time your shit, your pre-cum,your cum-your everything will be reddish rust and it will glint.That's what working in an iron ore refinery does to you.

His boss told him that as a part of his induction briefing.

 

Iron Disulphide.Iron Pyrite.Fool's Gold.

                            Shiny little glittering bastards ,almost impossible to remove once they get on the body or a piece of clothing.His teachers used to catch him in the act of picking his nose and say"What are you trying to do...trying to find gold?".

The snot globule sparkled.

Real gold did not sparkle.Real gold did not dazzle.Real gold did not impress.
Real gold only shone a dull yellow shine.
                                         On the wrong person,real gold looked cheap.On the wrong person, real gold looked vulgar.But on some unlucky sods, it looked both cheap and vulgar, and on some really unlucky bastards it also looked tacky.If it wasn't for real golds rarity,Fool's gold would have won hands down.Such was the irony in life.Rarity took precedence over common beauty.

 

               While his pinkie finger was deep inside of him his neurons fired at a rapid rate and made millions of odd connections per second and retrieved and recreated a part of his memories and associations that lay dormant until then.A scientist won the Ignoble Award for a doctoral dissertation on the prevalence of nose picking amongst Teenagers.It had a highly technical name that he had almost immediately forgotten.The thesis stated that nose picking was commonly indulged as a stress reduction mechanism by teenagers,but it also induced guilt due to deep social and parental conditioning.

Guilt and relaxation went hand in hand with nose picking, just as in many other forms of cheap thrills and other amusements.

He could only vaguely remember that the scientist had an Indian name and had actually shown up to accept the Ignoble Award.

 

               His habit had some unexpected consequences though.A consumate nose picker,he usually  used his pinkie, but at stressful moments he resorted to his thumb - driving it up so that it made contact with the bone and not just cartilage.He never inserted anything else up his nostrils.As a child, he had heard the story of  a kid who died when the pencil shoved up his nostril went through the skull spilling gooey grey matter all over.This scared him straight enough not to experiment with foreign insertions.In his recurring nightmares,the grey matter had a gummy  liquid like quality resembling dripping mercury chewing gum toothpaste.In his dreams it was his brain that was speared with a freshly sharpened 2B pencil that he so much liked to use while drawing his gun battles and dinosaur-monsters.As his brains spilled out, or rather oozed out - unable to comprehend or formulate the next step he would hold the dripping grey matter between his fingers and pull on it and his grey matter - now a silver glob would simply stretch and get entangled with his fingers and he would try to shake it off until violently being jarred awake.To calm himself he would resort to thumb-picking his nose,which gave his nostrils a widened stretched look and at certain angles and certain lighting conditions,especially when the diffused light of the setting sun caught his front profile or his mug shot,he resembled  an angry gorilla with flared nostrils.

Monkeyshine.
That's what the other kids used to call him at school.
Also George of the Jungle not realizing that in that movie ,the talking gorrilla was named Ape.

 

              More wheels clicked and whirred inside his head and many more neurons were busy firing up inside his brain(two very different places) and he was taken to a different place , a different time-to  a memory in which he was cold,wet and stark naked.His mom was giving him a bath.No that wasn't right.He never allowed anyone to see him naked since he was five years old.Then this must've been when he was before he was five years old,after which he was too shy and self conscious to be comfortable in his own skin around others.

                                     So when his mom was giving him a bath,maybe when he was four or possibly three but not five or two,because he had no memories of being two or any younger because of the 'Falling off the swing in 1986' incident, she talked about etiquette.The ages before five are the formative years where the brains learning capacity is supposedly ten thousand times greater than that of an average adults.Why was there such a drastic reduction in the learning capacity of an average adult?The adult simply grew up and abandoned the age of wonder and intrigue.Nothing seemed new anymore.Titanium alloy disc brakes were applied hard to the accelration of brain and then abandoned at the sidewalk.

 

                        His mother might have learnt this technique from Spock,the definitive guide for child rearing which she turned a blind eye to when it advised her to let her kids sleep in their own bedrooms right from childhood so that they got acclimatised to it.He slept with his parents until he was twelve and found out that he was the only one amongst his friends to do so.He refused to sleep with his parents after that ,and consequently broke his mom's heart.

 

Spock spoke about identifying role models and inculcating wholesome values by attributing these values to those rolemodels.

 

                        Popeye was his favourite cartoon character and rolemodel.He didn't really know why.He could have chosen Superman,Spiderman,Porky Pig,Donald Duck,but instead he chose a bald one eyed sailor with disproportionate limbs,a smoking addiction and a speech impediment.His choice of girls was no great feat to be emulated either.

His mom told him that if he wanted to be big and strong like popeye (his violent streak was not discussed back then) ,then he must eat spinach.
And other veggies.

Fine.

He had no problems with that.Unlike other kids ,he loved his veggies.He heaped veggies on his plate-raw,cooked,peeled,skinned,blanched,cored,sliced,diced,cubed,sauteed,skewered,barbequed,baked, tinned,pickled and other.

 

                                   He used to get cranky if he didn't get his daily quota of veggies,and this was a special requirement like lactose intolerance or peanut allergy that had to be told in advance if his family were to visit their friends or relatives for dinner.

"Give the kid his fuckin' veggies...and don't forget the fruits.All that roughage he eats can bring about world peace"

He was the model kid,made and example and praises showered upon in front of other kids with veggie induced loss of appetite so that they could follow suit.

Not that it ever worked.

Monkeyshine,George of the Jungle was simply not cool enough to shepherd the sheep.

But in retrospect,James Bond was a mistake for a four year old or a three year old.

 

                                       After a brief and embarrassing instruction on how to pull on the foreskin and clean the white fishy  gunk (his mom said it was called smegma) and clean his penis (his mom always insisted on the proper terminology,not wee wee,pee pee,dick,boner or prick) and how to sprinkle cold water on the scrotum (not balls...never balls),gleaned from a book called The Housewive's Almanac,she proceeded to give him the basics of etiquette - atleast the basics that applied to a four or three year old.

She said " James Bond never picks his nose in the public,nor does he scratch his crotch.What he does is after his bath he cleans his nose and his penis and then carefully washes his hands"

He remembered James Bond.Pussy Galore made his spine tingle.Octupussy fantasies threw him into a fit of frenzy.

 

                                  He asked his mother,years later , as to why she chose James Bond - a cold blooded  limey womanizer with scant respect for other peoples lives.

He was never his rolemodel,but his dad was a great fan of Bond, crazy enough to splurge family savings on the collectors set.

 

His mom sat there stunned and silent.She said she had no idea why she chose James Bond.She could neither remember nor construct a logical premise for her choice.

Somewhere in Chinatown

I'm somewhere in chinatown - a stranger in a strange place,

trying to get lost - trying to find myself

on a mountain questing for truth and honesty and peace

found lovebirds,disaffected teenagers and wayward youth.

The final coffin in the nail - a 17 year old cutting his toenails

visions of lost sanctity and solemnity

had me rushing down-wet ,pouring wet with sweat

truth be damned,honesty be damned,peace-

well, may peace be still with all of you

I certainly lost mine

 

It ain't over yet...

The opera isn't concluded until the full-figured woman offers her
vocal rendering.

Oh! So You don't wanna go there...
You don't wanna talk about it...
I don't care...
I wanna go there,I wanna talk about it.

After all, wasn't it me who was avoiding all that...STUFF?
C'mon.
Let's make haste.
My verbal diarrhea is acting up and I've got an itch up my ass.

And I don't hear any singing yet.

Bitch

She accused me of calling her one.

No.

I wouldn't dare.

She might just bite me where it hurts the most.

If I was really smart or high on peyote, I might have said this-

"Most of our energy goes into upholding our own importance...If we were capable of losing some of that importance, two extraordinary things would happen to us.One,we would free our enerrgy of trying to maintain the illusory idea of our grandeur;and two ,we would provide ourselves with enough energy...to catch aglimpse of the actual grandeur of the universe"

Take that byatch! That's Carlos castaneda for you!

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

Mark of a musafir

The mark of a traveller, a true traveller, the eternal traveller,a saccha musafir is an eternally half-packed suitcase ready at a moment's notice to pack up and move along.

The musafir never unpacks fully.

He's out to find his home.

He's out to find his heart.

Home is where the heart is...that's where he will settle down.

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

Conundrum

What if life is a metaphor?
What if life is an allusion?
What is life is a simile?
But for what?
Why can trope be life and
life be trope at times?

What if life is an image of itself?
A reflection without distortion
or inversion,
an expression without words
Whatever it may be
The main objective though
is to amuse oneself

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

Sex on my mind

When Margaret Atwood (or Woody Maggie to her friends),the novelist did an informal poll of men and women,and they said what's their biggest fear ona date...and men's biggest fear was being laughed at, and women's biggest fear was getting killed.

I wonder how it feels being a spider or a praying mantis.

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

Do you have a girlfriend?

Do you have a girlfriend ?

No

(I'm really tired of saying no, and then answering the odd questions that inevitably follow.)

(The female version of this question is far more subtler...and it goes,'So...how many girlfriends do you have?')

 

No , I don't have any girlfriends...or a girlfriend.

Why?
(I wear Eau de Skunk)

Then are you married?
(No but we live in sin,in a large house made of chocolate cake)

But why?
(All women think that they are my sisters)

So ?
(Unlike where you come from,incest is illegal.
 No that's not a sick bird.Yes that's a bad joke)

Ever had sex?
(Often with Mary palmer and her five sisters;no they are not real people,it is a joke with reference to masturbation)

But you are a sailor.
(was that a question? Judging by your rising inflection it seemed to be , but alas not contextually )

But you are A SAILOR.
('BUT YOU ARE A ___"...I say in the same rising inflection only replacing my occupation with theirs)

What about whores?
(What about them? That reminds me, Say hi to your mom for me)

So you never went to them?
(Yes, I did, but Your mom refused to give me the group discount...any more questions?)

Are you gay?
(Speaking of gay, that reminds me, Say hi to your dad for me)

So...you still a virgin?
(With no hymen to show off,male virginity is highly debatable,also highly irrelevant just like the general concept of virginity)

 

I quit! I dont wanna answer your questions anymore!

These days I just bypass these questions by saying Yes.

Its simply an exercise of imagination.

I create names,ages,locations and stories on the spur.(example:We met while kayaking.I saved her from a yak and we ending up yakking all the way back)

It gives me a chance to evaluate memory and its fallibility.
(example:we met in peking.I saved her from Gregory Peck and we ended up pecking all the way back)

So don't ask me about my relationship status unless you have an hour of free time,for you may hear the most imaginitive love story that never happened, bound to be forgotten  within the next few minutes.

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

I'm not half as smart as you think I am

I'm reminded of the chapter 'The Warren Harding Error: Why We Fall For Tall,Dark, and Handsome Men' from Malcom Gladwell's Blink.It is the true story (oxymoron alert!) of Warren Harding ,a simple man destined to for greatness whether deserving or not.

In the words of journalist Mark Sullivan,
                                        "Harding was worth looking at. He was at the time about 35 years old. His head, features, shoulders and torso had a size that attracted attention; their proportions to each other made an effect which in any male at any place would justify more than the term handsome�in later years, when he came to be known beyond his local world, the word �Roman?was occasionally used in descriptions of him.

 
                   As he stepped down from the stand, his legs bore out the striking and agreeable proportions of his body; and his lightness on his feet, his erectness, his easy bearing, added to the impression of physical grace and virility. His suppleness, combined with his bigness of frame, and his large, wide-set rather glowing eyes,heavy black hair, and markedly bronze complexion gave him some of the handsomeness of an Indian.(note to self...Indians are considered handsome, though unclear whether they meant Indians or red indians)

His courtesy as he surrendered his seat to the other customer suggested genuine friendliness toward all
mankind. His voice was noticeably resonant, masculine, warm. His pleasure in the attentions of the
bootblack�s whisk reflected a consciousness about clothes unusual in a small-town man. His manner as

he bestowed a tip suggested generous good-nature, a wish to give pleasure, based on physical well-being
and sincere kindliness of heart"

The common thought on everyone's mind was "Wouldn�t that man make a great President?"

So Senator Harding became candidate Harding, and later, after a campaign conducted from his front porch in Marion, Ohio, candidate Harding became President Harding.

Unfortunately most historians agree that he was one of the worst presidents in American history.

I want you to remember this true story (oxymoron alert!) whenever you come to me with your problems and expect miracles.

I'm not half as smart as I look.

Worse of all,I'm not even half as handsome as I look.

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

The Soul Cleanser

                                                              No one would have ever thought that Micheal Jackson would amount to anything.Frankly, no one thought he would survive his childhood in the state orphanage.He existed as an inapposite...A short white stumpy dwarve with fiery reddish curly tangled mess of a hair with a godawful accent that made him sound like Count Dracula.

No one remembers that what he had unwittingly engineered only caused catastrophic results.

No one remembers the promethian deception .

No one remembers anything really.

We all suffer from a collective amnesia.

You might not even believe what you are about to read.

You will no doubt dismiss this as flights of fancy of a deranged man of an unbalanced composition.

But I implore you to look deep into your soul and try to find that flicker of memory of the truth that has been lost to us.

It all began with the quest for a  perfect hand cleaner in a laboratory that once gave birth to non-stick cookware.

It all began with world peace,cleansed souls and a bottleneck situation in a non corporeal corporation.

Thus it all began but ended with death of Michael Jackson,a deception beyond promethian scale and perpetual forgetfulness.

But much before that,it all began in the land of the Iron Curtain with Anatoliy and Tatyana Drozd naming their only child Mikhail Jackson.

            Young Mikhail, had rust red curly hair,was short and stubby and bore no resemblance to the late King Of Pop,the perpetuator of the Peter pan myth and the purveyor of Jesus juice to young persons.

                Mikhail's parents wanted him to live in the land of opportunities and they thought that the name Mikhail Jackson would constantly keep reminding them of their desire.

            Eventually when they did escape the Iron curtain posing as a figure skating couple , they sought political asylum in the land of opportunities, which was refused when it was discovered that they weren't really figure skaters but a mere dull watchmaker and a mousy librarian with no other exceptional skills but a shared interest in braille calligraphy.In short they were worthless to the land of opportunities.

When they were about to be deported back behind the rusty Iron Curtain,they abandoned their son in the land of opportunities so that one day he could enjoy all those privileges that were non-existent behind the Iron Curtain.

The iron curtain had been humiliated and that humiliation at the hands of a mere watcmaker and a librarian had to be hastily avenged.Thus Mikhail's parents were executed by a firing squad on arrival to their home country.To state the obvious...Mikhail never saw his parents again.

Mikhail became Michael in the land of opportunities and that sealed his fate with that of the King of questionable gender,king of Rhinoplasty,aka King of pop who hated his pop.

             In the state run orphanage,where survival was very difficult for a rank outsider,it was discovered that Michael Jackson had an aptitude towards mathematics and chemistry .The Director of the orphanage , a well cliched pedophile saw that even though Micheal was an unsexy undesirable child ,he had potential to achieve something worthwhile and became his only supporter and as a result Micheal was put in prestigious shools which fast-tracked him and very soon he got through prestigious institutions.This incident would firmly prove that Micheal Jackson's destiny was was not shared with that of his doppelganger's , that is with that of the King of moonwalk,aka king of Whoo Hoo.

 

He became a chemist,and quickly joined a laboratory which had in its long history usurped and patented most of the inventions and concotions of its employees, albeit in a ruthless manner.There he was commisioned by his superiors to formulate a hand cleaner,which MJ thought was beneath his intellect.

But forever a perfectionist,on the quest for the perfect hand cleaner, MJ had stumbled upon the most important invention of mankind, something of far greater significance than sliced bread.

                              The same year an album called Black or White was released by the king of single white gloves, the king of self-crotch grabbers, the king of moon walk, the king of jesus juice and the ruler of neverland.

MJ invented a hand cleaner that went beyond mere dirt,grime and grease.

His hand cleaner cleaned so deeply that it apparently cleansed souls of the test subjects.
The test subjects with cleansed souls refused compensation offered for cleaning their souls without their consent and volunteered for more tests,at free of cost.

Naturally the executives ,fearing that a cleansed soul could impede their executive decisions kept well clear of the hand cleaner that apparently cleaned souls.

No one, including Micheal Jackson knew how the hand cleaner worked, or why it would clean souls.

Michael Jackson had , by virtue of his immense genius, concocted a formulation of lanolin and acetic stearate and cyanocobalamin and other chemicals that acted through the cornified outer ectodermal epidermis and even the inner mesodermal epidermis, thus cleaning the skin thoroughly.

But an accidental inclusion of glacial acetic stearate fortified the formula in a manner that the cleansing action now went beyond the known layers of epidermis.

This led to the obvious conclusion that soul was subcutaneous.It was firmly established that the seat of the soul was not the heart or the brain but the skin itself, that the soul acted as the final and innermost layer of skin, and the act of cleaning it literally caused it to be cleansed in metaphysical ways that resulted in cleansed souls.

Micheal Jackson in the tradition of all previous scientists gave the patent to his employer without any thought of using it for personal gain.Or so we are led to believe.

The product was marketed as 'The Soul Cleanser',maybe for the lack of imagination or for the lack of a better marketable name, and sold in bright orange 1 oz plastic containers.It smelled like freshly sliced oranges.That was Michael Jackson's formulation too.

The Soul Cleanser was a grand success and people flocked for salvation in a box.It was hailed as the greatest invention since sliced bread by all the comedians worth their salt.
                           Organised religion everywhere openly condemned The Soul Cleanser, and proclaimed it to be only a quick fix.Organised religion declared that only they had the claim on dispensing everlasting salvation.Legal eagles everywhere prepared for class action suites filed by disgruntled people whose souls had been cleansed without prior consent.One organised religious unit that frequently audited souls sued the makers of The Soul Cleanser for unfair market practices and unlawful monopoly.Politicians on either sides of the fence battled and debated fiercely on the por and cons and etics and morality and other such dillemmas that the Soul Cleanser surfaced.

But the Soul Cleanser itself was very successful.It cleaned dirt and grime very effectively.It also smelled nice.(The sales of oranges saw an unprecedented rise)The Soul Cleanser was also hypo-allergic and could be substituted for any clinical disinfectant and had mild bleaching action to it.

Anyone who used The Soul Cleanser felt clean,rejuvenated and experienced a dramatic and profound feeling of calm and peace.These effects were immediate and long lasting,lasting upto 2 days upon a single application.

      But in a disastrous move to increase sales, the efficacy of the product was reduced to half by executive decision and as a result the new watery product was immediately rejected and shunned by the masses.The older versions of the Soul Cleanser were soon sold on the black market at exorbitant prices.

As per another executive decision, production of the Soul Cleanser was temporarily halted to create false scarcity.For the record, the executive had never come within hundred metres of his product for the fear of accidentally cleansing his soul.

There was chaos everywhere and people started rioting as they began  experiencing withdrawal effects.It was suddenly discovered that The Soul Cleanser was also addictive.MJ appealed to his superiors and the executives to restart the production and sell The Soul Cleanser at subsidised rates to the general public.He was promptly discharged of his duties and asked to leave the premises of the laboratory.

An enraged MJ vowed revenge against his employers and tried to destroy the formula of the Soul Cleanser.He failed as he was caught by the security when his pants got caught in the electrified fence.He was effectively neutered as a result of the high tension electrified fence and hospitalised immediately.

Days later his body was mysteriously found in the bathtub and a preliminary autopsy revealed death due ingestion of large amounts of the Soul Cleanser.
Though the Soul Cleanser was a miracle product in every respect,it was not suitable for consumption.

The case was closed as an attempted (and successful) suicide.

An oddly poetic note was left on the sink, found wet and soggy.

There were no clues as to whom the letter was referred to.He was a lonely man with no friends,family or acquaintances.The director of his old orphanage had committed suicide whan he was outed as a pedophile.So there was no one in this world for lonely old Micheal Jackson.

Maybe he was delusional.

 

Dexter's Laboratory released that year was not based on Michael's life although they shared the same physical attributes.Michael did not have a blonde elder sister.

The riots induced as a result of false scarcity and the death of the inventor of The Soul Cleanser aroused suspicions at high places which resulted in a congressional inquiry  that exposed the avarice of the executives who said that they did it to improve the company's stock value.The public thought otherwise.

The company was dissolved and the government took over and began mass producing The Soul cleanser in an attempt to pacify the riots.Troops were called in to supply The Soul Cleanser to the general public.The riots ended within two months.

These riots, the government declared were the last riots of mankind.Large scale production of the Soul Cleanser began across the globe and people were reported to use them en masse.
As a result peace had descended upon the world and there were no more wars or any other acts of aggression towards each other.

World peace had finally arrived to the entire world.It smelled like a citrus fruit and came in 1 oz boxes.It was proudly made in the land of opportunities.They made it a point to rub it in the faces of the other countries once in a while.

World Peace ,as a word had finally a meaning.
All was well.

Or so it seemed.

The actual effects of the Soul cleanser came to light only a year later going global.

It was realised a bit too late that people with perpetually cleansed souls had no desires and that consumerism was just a thing of the past and as a result the global economy was collapsing.
With no wars, there was no market for WMD's and the land of opportunities was slowly sinking.

Great aryan nations suffered because no one bought clock work precision extravagances anymore.Well, to make a long story short most countries followed suit.
The world was too goody-goody and frankly dying a slow death as a result.

But far greater imbalances lay somewhere else.
A non-corporeal corporation called Heaven,Hell & Subsidiaries was the most affected because of the Soul Cleanser.

AS a result of the Soul Cleanser, dead souls were frequently entering Heaven at a rate far greater than Heaven's hellish expansion (pardon the blasphemous pun).All of 17 Heaven's subsidiaries were filled up and the current gaggle of occupant souls had bottlenecked any further movement of souls within Heaven,Hell & Subsidiaries.At the same time, Hell and its 29 subsidiaries were running huge losses because they lay almost vacant as influx of new souls had reduced to a mere trickle.Negotiations were underway to lease Hell's 29th and newest subsidiary as an adjunct to Heaven, as a temporary waiting room for the newly arrived.

                 Things were getting out of hand and it was decided in an emergency meeting by Heaven,Hell & Subsidiaries that order had to bought back into the world.

                            Since Heaven,Hell & Subsidiaries could not act directly on earth(on account of being non-corporeal), they decided to act through their minions on earth and the only people who were willing to be minions were politicians, who strangely were the only class of people who were unaffected by the Soul Cleanser.It was discovered that because most politicians had congenital Chronic Rhinocornified Dermatitis,or what you'd call innate thick skin,the Soul Cleanser could not penetrate into the deeper layer of the dermis and into the soul.It was general opinion though that the Soul Cleanser could not have worked on people with no souls to begin with.

                   After lengthy negotiations, the politicians and Heaven,Hell & Subsidiaries reached an agreement, abd politicians were promised more than adequate compensations for their services.

 

In order to tackle the problem at hand,Heaven,Hell & Subsidiaries gave all the politicians the most powerful weapon in their arsenal.

It was a weapon so powerful that ancient playwrights had spoken about them in their plays.

The weapon looked like an innocuous wooden box, but had the ability of solving any problem.

It was an ancient device called 'Deus ex machina', capable of inducing amnesia in a collective community.(Not to be confused with the literary device of the same name)

To make a long story short, the politicians used 'Deus ex machina' and brought back the natural order and chaos to mankind.The world had returned back to where it was .They call the new earth 'Square One'...This is where the term 'Back to square one' originated from.(Not really .I'm just making that up)

In an act of betrayal the politicians never returned 'Deus ex machina' to Heaven,Hell & Subsidiaries.They refused to surrender the weapon, claiming they had lost it in the mighty skirmish of 19__.Heaven,Hell & Subsidiaries could not do much to retrieve it on the account of them being non-corporeal and the weapon itseld being meta-physical.(Non-corporeal and Metaphysical are not the one and the same...so don't ask me anymore stupid questions...OK!)

It now lies exclusively with the politicians of the land of opportunities.
The proof lies before you,though you refuse to see it.It was used recently so that a half wit could get re-elected in the land of opportunities.It was also used before attacking another country without provocation.

Whenever a feeling of amnesia fogs the world,I think and shudder of the human capacity for mundane evil.

The note on the sink,wet and soggy said

        "I cannot prescribe salvation,
         Or a spoonful of truth on a sunday morning.
         I cannot show you the path ,
         Much less make you walk through
         Maybe I'm blind,blinded by the world

         But together we can stumble around,
         holding each other in our arms"

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

Photosynthesis

When Clorets (advert alert!) was first introduced years ago,it was advertised to contain chlorophyll.(Hence the green colour)

              I bought a few packs eagerly and stood in the sun for hours after eating them thinking I could find sustenance with just water and sunlight.(The thought of fertilizer did not cross my mind back then)

              Nothing happened.

Mom found me a few hours later, half naked on the terrace and with my eyes transfixed upon the setting sun.

Used to my eccentricities,she perfunctorily felt my forehead and checked my pulse and other vital signs and having found nothing amiss dragged me down for dinner.

              I was hungry and reconsidered my wish to live on photosynthesis alone.

If nothing else,I must've gotten a really nice tan on that warm summer evening.

(You already had a tan.You're a frickin' South Indian.You were BORN with a tan you Moron!)

Years later Chlormint (advert alert!)was released.It too supposedly contained chlorophyll.(hence the green colour and the obvious but tacky product name)
              The advert also alluded that consuming the product greatly enhanced one's 'cool' quotient and also attracted pretty unattainable women.

This time though,the prospect of standing under the sun did not attract me too much.

 

       

Malinvern

Malinvern
by Veekayarr

A cruel winter cometh,
a cold winter cometh
It sifts through my spirit,
hefting it asunder
And I being part of all,
hale bear cruel cold winter.

In cold grey elastic hours
find joy in a momentary sun
or crouch covetous of warmth
lusty avaritia o'er scant logged ingle blaze
dragooned by desperation to construe
-accept cramped joy in warm memories

from dying embers of my love
and scant fires they retain
Lo ! am withered with waiting till my spring cometh!
Lo ! am withered and waiting for you!

(with sincerest apologies to Mr.Pound.
The title seemed tantalizing enough for a challenge.
 Please- Stop turning in your grave sir!
 In your own words,
 We have but one sap and one root (I may be no Walt Whitman though)

 - So let there be commerce between us)

Disclaimer:No poets,dead or alive were harmed in the making of this poem.

Disclaimer:The information contained here is strictly an intellectual exercise and frankly a practical joke , and it should be considered as entertainment and nothing more.None of this is advertised to be original in the strictest sense of originality,but an amalgamation of various well known poems of the past.But I'm bloody proud of the end product.

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

Brevity n Levity

Patience has gone for a toss.Attention spans are getting shorter and shorter.

The way Original works had given way to condensed books,now
blogging has given way to micro-blogging, and the world is flled with twittering twats,and short quips and shorter sound bites,soon to be reduced to nibbles and finally left grasping at thin air.

The mind is sated by empty matter dressed up as information.
Constantly addicted to brevity and levity,
to short pieces of novelty.

A quick quip
'Give me patience and give it to me now!',
sums it all up.

(I hope this wasn't too long that you read it half way through and abandoned it...But I completely accept if you abandoned it half way through because it a terrible piece of writing)

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

The Grass is Always greener on my side

Since My House Burned Down
I Have A Better View Of
The Rising Sun

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

Fuglysex

1001 Things to try before you die

997: Sex with "unattractive" partners is said to have been a
     favored method of self-concept disintegration for at least one
     notorious brain-change expert.
     When pleasure is combined with repulsion, two contrary values

     are married, your judgment is
     dissolved, and you are lifted beyond duality into oneness.

My place or yours?

Sub Categories:1001 Unlikliest Pickup Lines

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>

From Vikas In china

China has blocked Multiply.None of the proxy sites seem to work around the block.

Worst of all , i'm in china for the next 2 months...

Seems like someone's afraid that freedom of speech will come and bite someones ass.

PHOOEY!

--
<a href="http://keshavarao2001.multiply.com/r/b"><img border=0 src="http://images.keshavarao2001.multiply.com/badge/U2FsdGVkX1.NuqxbSET2R522DPip.n57Mls71vCNdw.sXCF3tkW5q8NtXUtS8DpIR.019fVoNAzVlR6WQ7A,KBhcFuTxlQsD/badge.gif"></a>