Beyond the imposing and the high iron gate
The picturesque setting of the Oxford University
Situates the hedonistic oriented Bullingdon Club
Founded more than 200 years ago.
The socially exclusive students get the invitation
To join the Club as its elite members
Many of whom have attained prominence
And position of power in Britain’s political arena.
The ill-famed Club is known for
Its wealthy members and their notorious behavior
Partaking in the boisterous rituals such as
Vandalizing restaurants and students’ rooms.
The Club’s colors are sky blue and shining ivory
Seen on the tailcoats the members wear
For the annual dinner where the drunken revelers
Greet each other chanting “buller, buller, buller”.
The Club has survived the roller-coaster ride
Lurching between frequent recruitment crises
And nearly facing the shut down
But the buller has a way of bouncing back.
The distinctiveness of its haughty members
Reflected in their one-upmanship attitude
Took them to eminence along the tough tracks
The outside world is skeptic about their dubious traits.
____________
April 7, 2023
Contest : Bullingdon Boys
Spoinsored by : Joe Maverick
A thousand drummers playing drums
within my head,
like firecrackers bursting,
Rivers of (whatever) oozing out,
Trickling eyes, prickling nose,
Snee..achoo!..zing...and sneezing...and sneezing!
Every muscle aches,
Feeling fatigued and flushed,
Puffy eyes, stuffy nose,
Bouts of throaty cacophonies come out uninvoked ,
Body sore, mood sourer..
Even the bed seems uncomfortable,
Pain deludes, sleep eludes (snuffle!)
Inflamed glands fight ill-famed flu,
Tasteless food, faceless foe, endless distress,
Don't come near! This is contagious!
Life is drear, this is outrageous!
Eyes flowing, nose-blowing!
And I feel like...
Chasing this flu away.
9th Feb 2023
For Charles Messina's "I felt like" contest
I watched you slowly disappear
pacing restlessly back and forth
warbling off-key through the
woozy blackness of a day
I watched you glide upwards
through the slender keyholes
quivering and sun-cloaked
towards the edgeless seasons
I watched you unfurl with rapture
rummaging the vast firmament
ill-famed for your cinder face
corralled and vaulted
I watched you smile in epoxy
at every wake and burial
you made weather off your skin
mostly smooth and neon-colored
I watched you sink in every rivulet
amidst the mountain ridges
and your incandescent eyelashes
creeping upon the timid animals
I watched you blast off to nowhere
becoming a zero, a ransacked town
only a replica of your blank self
a free sacrifice to destroyers
I watched you eat your cotton candy
heading home to fictive horizons
your limbs so flabby and tired
your eyes full of dismissal
I find my room doomed with demon's ill-famed gag
As long as I have my lucifer to light my ***
I find my room purged by smokes caused by
The belittled ignition on the cig
that brightens more when I inhale more deeply.
A puff or two reliefs me from strain
and I find my room blessed with divine guidance
As long as I have my lucifer to play with it
I find my imaginations weighted with more abstractionism
that often arrest me to the world of traits.
Three and more puffs I inhale
I see the cig weakens turning into ashes
that shows the future of mine ill-fated with curses
and smoke that blurs my room with a distinct smell
I wonder how life is going to live with so much hatreds.
Last puff at the butt - and I find the firmest of all
Desires provoking and urges me to be wistful
I find my room doomed with demons ill-famed gag
But my lucifer can't light up as am not having my ***.
Blended with fragrances
And the joyful carols,
The con games of children
Looking for gifts full of fun.
Kris Kringle’s cock-and-bull
Make them rosy and lull.
Adorned houses with odorous candles
Christmas tree ornamented with red ribbons and jingles
Marzipans fruitcakes and roasted chickens
Caramel cookies and plenteous chocolates,
The night illuminated
With the dance of the December souls
Gilding the lily with
Buoy up Wine and Champagne glasses.
Family gatherings and paisanos schmooze,
Couples moonlit winter-warmth savor
And the striplings night lammed booze,
Queued brewpubs and bopping discos –
The night illuminated
With the dance of the December souls
Gilding the lily with
Few ill-famed shmoes.
The Dance of the December Souls
Flageolet till New Year’s Eve,
The night at mid, lightened
By the skyrockets –
Gilding the lily with
Full-of-the-moon brightened.
Blended with resolutions and
Hugs and kisses,
Greetings followed
By myriad of wishes.
Clock ticked with few yesterday’s memories
Tears backed up by today’s beginning.