Saturday, September 13, 2008


I asked myself before I put pen on paper: What makes a songwriter? Imagination... Fantasies... Dreaminess... (The three are nearly the same I know!!!) rhyme schemes... (Swear words? Nah!!!) Yeah I guess that would about be it. And more than that, you need to mince words: Tell only half of what you wanna say. And the song demands some screams, shouts, moans, blah blah. That's the crooner's job ain't it?! Then if a lyricist's job is just to write with the above qualitiies fused as one, I asked myself almost immediately:


And an EMPHATIC song! A song that is not gonna be written by any male songwriter (Let alone females!) 'cause we all know what flirts those people are, starting from Lennon to John Mayer (I know they're the most sensitive people, but when they themselves are flirts, what's the point talking about others?!). And what song's that gonna be??? It's gonna be: And it is - WOMEN AREN'T WORTH IT!!! Yes Women aren't worth it! My latest venture to solve paper mazes with ink (If you're wondering how that works, it means I'm figuring out what design on paper looks right, which means what is gonna sound right, which in turn means that I'm speaking a bit abstract, which qualifies me as a pro song writer!!! Already :D) And this is how the first stanza goes...

I also wish to emphasise one small thing over here: This poem is never anti-women. That's what people need to understand. This is just a first stanza and assuming this is all is a bit of stupidity when I already quoted it's just the first set of words, and that means that you could very well expect an anti climax over here...

And I think I'm proving the statement "Writer's mind changes often" and that's not it exactly because I'm an emoter rather than a writer, and as emotions are even more drastic than words, I guess that's the way with me... :)


Stalled upon a sign: It condemned him to;

Puffs on his cigarette, between shivery fingers two;

Wets a cloth on his face, odd on a windy day,

Needless break of sweat, without a heat ray…

Buddy! What’s wrong with you?

Why so anxious? Why so tense?

Tell me in what way, this makes sense!

Stuffing with idle dust, no flick of sand,

Those pretty roses you hold in your hand!

Brother: Life’s not worth it, n’ tell you something,

Women are worth lesser, so learn to sing:

‘Tis said while men go woo,

The dame’s meant to shoo;

Bill set it: To him my big boo!

‘Cause we know that ain’t true…


Yes: Women aren’t worth it!

Your flowers're worth more than them,

They give their scent off, 'n ask no gem,

What more's a woman, than the attached mayhem?

Believe me, you could do better without 'em!



*Veni* said...


meenakshi said...

"You could do better without 'em"??!!!

What? Are u threatening us? :P