Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Universe is a Funny Plasticine Onion


We are so full of ourselves
That in our quest to find life elsewhere
We never stopped and pondered
That perhaps for the universe
We might be an aberration to get rid of.


Funny is often scary;
Clowns are one,
And so are idiots.


How happy was I
Being myself, just a blob.
Now I have been squeezed.
Moulded. Shaped. Reshaped.
Into an ugly dog
That neither wags tails
Nor barks nor fetches.


Onions have to be
The most blessed critters here.
'Coz even in a brutal death
Its killer sheds tears.