some dopey thoughts

Once

I thought I would write a poem

On the luggage bags that laid

On the top of the cupboard

the way typical middle class people keep

I don’t complain

I am just one of them,

Then I thought why not write about

the cupboard itself

then I remembered the other things

in the room

the desk, the chair,

the books (that mostly lay here and there)

and of course my favourite bed.

But poor me

Expressionless

Wordless

Especially the poetic ones

And non rhythmic.

At last I wrote

About nothing

With earphones plugged to my ears

I lay upside down

With the pen

Caught between my lips

In deep intellectual thought

I jotted down some lines

What I thought was poetry

And then laughed aloud

Why?

I am yet to know

As of you

Think them as erratic feelings

of a highly doped mind