the PSYCHO guy

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 16:08:00 +0000

The Psycho Guy is dead.

Go away.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Mon, 24 Dec 2007 10:24:00 +0000

I am Satan; I am he,
The fallen prince, whom you despise,
The hated one, the enemy,
Who's said to deal in sins and lies.

Here I lie, endarkened in
A place where sulphur burns so bright,
A place where violence and sin
Lie buried in the silent night.

Here is where the passions burn,
Desires form, ambitions thrive
And here is where you humans learn
Just how it feels to be alive.

Think you that I live in Hell?
Well then, you'll be surprised to find
The one you fear the most now tell
You that he lives within your mind.

Yes, your mind, that feeble place,
That storage room that you forgot,
Competing in the Human race.
When was the last time that you thought?

And you live by the rules,
Which borne of whims, enforced by power,
Of politicians, priests and fools,
Who be as stupid as you are.

Still you mortals wish to be
Subservient, afraid of thought,
Afraid of ingenuity;
A less rebellious wife of Lot.

Must you stay on god's green earth?
Where all around you, all you see,
Is sly, profane, where there's no dearth
Of Mankind's own perversity?

'Course you must, what can you do?
Except, perhaps, to sit and cry?
It's all your fault, you know it too:
Inactive lie, inactive die.

Wake up, Lazarus! Come to life!
Embrace your mind and so create
A world devoid of sin and strife,
Of pain, of misery and hate.

Open wide your eyes and see
Your only hope, your sole defence,
Against life's blatant anarchy
And chaos is intelligence.

And intelligence, you know,
Through perseverance is begot.
And knowledge helps it thrive and grow
To be displayed in human thought.

Know you now the path I trod,
And you shall know just who I be,
I am he, who challenged god,
And questioned his authority.

I'm the one who did not care
'Bout consequences, recognize
That I am he who told you where
The fruit of knowledge really lies.

Being slandered, here I lie,
Within your mind: so dark and dense.
I've borne a lot. Enough. Now I
Shall speak out loud in my defense.

I am Satan; I am he,
For ages whom you thought was bad.
Recognize me now, and see
I'm the god you never had.

Hear my words, you mortals, and
Question that which you've presumed
And think and know and understand
Or else humanity is doomed.

Paradise had not been lost
It's in your mind, my friend, and well,
Neglected. Now you pay the cost:
Your paradise is turned to hell.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Wed, 08 Aug 2007 15:57:00 +0000

Oh well, what the hell!

It's time,my friend, that I confess
Of all the things that I posses
The things I love the best, I guess,
Are my brown undies.

They fill my heart and soul with glee;
With happiness, tranquility,
They let me breathe, they set me free:
My brown undies.

They really are the best in town,
So soft and silky, smooth and brown;
My god! I cannot put them down!
My brown undies.

Take them off?! Don't think I can.
In them, I feel the perfect man.
There's nothing I would ever wear, rather than
My brown undies.

They keep me snug, they keep me dry.
They're so damn cool, they catch the eye.
The women croon, and purr and sigh
At my brown undies.

And so, my friends, I hope you know
That should you want, I'll gladly show
Them off to you: I love them so!
My brown undies.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Sun, 05 Aug 2007 14:25:00 +0000

Perhaps this is plagiarism. I don't care.
Perhaps this is rubbish. I still don't care.
I'm sorry Até, that I could not do justice to it.

Dream on, dream on you poor child
You stupid twit that we’ve beguiled
And frightened, scared; and while you dream
And while you want to yell and scream
And scratch your face, and tear your hair
And moan and groan out in despair
We’ll mock and rile and laugh at you
And watch you weep, and then we’ll do
Exactly all those things you fear
You cannot try to stop us dear.
Where would you start? What would you do?
And what’s the point? You know it’s true:
You can’t defeat who you can’t see
You cannot fight society.

And so you spend your time in dreams,
In writing rhymes, and plotting schemes
And when time comes, you shall awaken
And you’ll find that you’re forsaken
Looted, robbed or so it seems
While you were busy chasing dreams
We’ve slit your wrists, and chopped your nose
And even chopped off parts of those
And you’ll wake up and scream with pain
And gnash your teeth and go insane
And while you’re at it, we shall smile
Again, and mock, again, and rile
You. Then, perhaps, you prick, you’ll see
That dreams are not reality.

So dream on, pal, dream on, dream on
And then when all your dreams are gone
You’ll wake and find that one fine day
We’ve stolen all your dreams away.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Tue, 24 Jul 2007 06:29:00 +0000

You poor thing. You won't make sense of this (but then again, you might). However, it's damn good fun writing these things (and not as easy as it seems). You ought to try it. Vot's there.

The Music of the Night
The Music of the Night.
I sit in vain
And writhe in pain
As fancy takes her flight

A field, a tree, a star
A field, a tree, a star.
With reason gone
And tap turned on
I walked into my shower

I looked into my eyes
I looked into my eyes
So lame and trite
There, in the night
I knew that I was wise

My monkey looked at me
My monkey looked at me
I tried to grin
I could not win
Continuity

And J.K Rowling cries
Yes, J.K Rowling cries
With perils fraught
And Voldemort
Young Harry Potter dies

The Vectors in a field
The Vectors in a field
Though Vader tried
And Emperor cried
Young Yoda would not yield

My god, you’re such a nut!
My god, you’re such a nut!
You stupid shit
So full of it
You homosexual slut

I have berated you.
I have berated you.
You sit and read
With so much greed
What else was I to do?

The Music of the Night
The Music of the Night
I’m in a cave
And oh, so grave
I head towards the light

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 17:22:00 +0000

Dedicated to all my math teachers.

I wonder what it would be like to try
To punch my math professor in the eye.
To tear his hair out, beat him back and blue,
To maul his face and chop his limbs off, too.
To kick him then, with all the strength I've got,
Really hard, right on his you-know-what.
T'would serve him right, you know, it really would;
T'would really do us all a world of good.
And then no other prof. would ever say
To us, " Go memorize your formulae."

I'm really childish at times.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 16:31:00 +0000

Once upon a time in bed
A boy woke up and spied
The girl he loved was wide awake
And lying by his side.

The night was cool and cloudless, this
He noted with surprise.
He turned t’wards her and saw the moon
Reflected in her eyes.

He closed her eyes and kissed them, and
He kissed her fingertips.
He kissed her cute, determined nose,
And kissed her on her lips.

He held her hand in his and said
“ I love you, don’t you see
That I’m the only one for you,
And you’re the one for me?

I love you true, you know it too,
Oh Sue! It’s meant to be.
You know it too, I know you do,
So will you marry me? ”

The girl, she did not say a word
But, by some private whim,
Pretended that she hadn’t heard
Or even noticed him.

He tried again, “ I love you Sue.
I swear to you I’ll try
To be the kind of man you want,
To be the perfect guy. ”

But still, the boy, he was ignored.
It seemed she did not care.
The boy, he sighed and stroked her cheek,
And stroked her long, black hair.

Although she was so mean and rude,
The boy did not berate her.
He told her, " You can take your time
To think, I’ll ask you later. "

He smiled at her, and lovingly
He bent and kissed her cheek.
But she, so proud and adamant
A girl, she did not speak.

He pulled the knife out of her neck,
And saw the wound was deep.
And so he kissed her lips again,
And then went back to sleep.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Sun, 24 Jun 2007 09:46:00 +0000

A little birdie came and said
A little voice inside my head
Once told me not to get alarmed
And quickly pleased and quickly charmed
I told you not to go away
But you don't care 'bout what I say
And though I try to help you find
Composure, peace and calm of mind
So let's play football, come with me
And let's go climb an apple tree
And eat the apple of your eye
You foolish girl, so quiet, shy
Away from all the trees you see
The rose you hold it holds a bee
Which stung me on my bulbous nose
And yet you hold and flaunt that rose
And hold my hand, go for a walk
I've got so much to tell you, talk
'Bout numbers, sets, ellipses, squares
Depression and 'bout worldly cares
And with a baseball bat I hit
You on your nose, your stupid shit
There on the road, please watch your step
My god, your boots, they look so hep
Just like the may-fly, buzz away
And bow your head, my friend and pray
That India plays her football well
And on that precious thought I dwell
Within a cave, in search of light
It's getting late, let's have a fight
And I'll be black and you be blue
Let's fight all night, and with your shoe
Let's drive away the creeps and crawls
That so infest your stomach walls
All lined with Villi, mucus too
And what was it you'd have me do?
A geek, a freak, a bathroom leak
So cute, so scrumptious and so chic
I'll tell you, pal, let's not go play
It's getting late, call it a day
Call it a night, or what you will
Or call it crap and tripe and swill
Or call it me or call it you
Have you got nothing else to do
Than call me names, let's bounce a ball
And maybe then some fruit will fall
And we shall eat it and be cursed
And we'll be learned and well-versed
In art and science, in style and class
12S, dude, which I did pass
Just barely, yet, I'm quite the threat
Of cholera in the village wells
And waxes, wanes, and quicklly swells
Just like a sty upon my eye
Oh give up now, don't even try
To comprehend this, well, you can't
And so my enemies shall plant
A bomb inside me and then blow
Me off to where I want to go.

A little birdie came and said
I took a gun and shot it dead.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Fri, 11 May 2007 13:32:00 +0000

For those of you who understand Math.

Axiomatic Mathematics
That’s the way it’s done.
The number 3 will simply be
A 1 + 1 + 1.

But should you want the number 4
Don’t fret, here’s what to do.
Just go ahead and multiply
(1 + 1) by 2.

And 2, my friend, is 1 + 1
And dot associates
And over +, it distributes
(it also commutates).

But (1 +1) dot (1 +1)
It equals 2 dot 2.
And there you see, I’m stuck again
I don’t know what to do.

Let’s try again - So 1 Dot Q
Is Q, because you see,
For dot in Z, the number 1
Is called Identity.

So Q dot (1 + 1) will be
Q + Q, you know.
‘Cos dot has distributed here
( a step I did not show)

Put (1 + 1) instead of Q
And look at what you’ve done
You’ve gone and added 1 + 1
Again to 1 + 1.

But 1 + 1 + 1 + 1
It equals 4, you see.
And after all that crap and tripe
You can say Q. E. D.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Sat, 07 Apr 2007 13:19:00 +0000

There is a glass of wine on the table. There is a cigarette, there is an ashtray. There is the rhythmic drip of a kitchen tap. There is a corpse on the floor. There is a gun in her hand. There's nothing else to say.

Why did she kill herself - you ask. Why was she unhappy? Why is she smiling? Who is she anyway?

Why would you think I'd know?

Stop disturbing me. I'm not interested. Not in the corpse, and definitely not in you. I'd much rather watch television. There's a soap on mothers and daughters in law. It's fascinating. You find yourself drawn into an intricate web of deceit, love, lust, greed and authentic Indian values. A real gut-wrenching, tear-jerker. Much more amusing than a stupid corpse (or, for that matter, you).

Kyon Ki Saans Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 09:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1

I'd draw you a portrait, but you wouldn't be amused. It would bore you. You would yawn - and tell me to stop. I don't blame you: you cannot help being stupid.

She caught me by my hand, and dragged me there. She looked cute, and so, I let her. Besides, I wanted to see where this place was.

We reached a house. A big, brown, disgusting house, with a garden and a fence. The fence was painted black, with yellow speckles. The atmosphere was that of decadence. Of decadence and fear. I loved it.

I asked her how she knew about the house. She was to young, too immature. She was only 9 years old, goddammit.

She looked at me, and smiled. She seemed to think I was better off with my mouth shut.

I was about to enter the house, but she stopped me. She made me bend down, and kissed my cheek. Then, wishing me luck, she disappeared. I knew I'd see her again, of course, but I didn't want to. She makes me cry.

Chapter 2

I entered the house, and looked around. The house, I found, was quite familiar. It was as if I had been there before. Strange.

Somebody called out to me. A tall, handsome man, with shaggy, brown hair. He greeted me and asked me whether I remembered him. He said his name was Wolf.

I shook my head and said I didn't. I had never seen him before. He smiled and told me not to kid around. With nothing to lose, I decided to play along.

Aren't you - I asked - the guy I met in Kazakhstan? The corrupt witch-doctor who tried to cure himself of impotence?

He smiled and nodded his head. Encouraged, I went on - Aren't you the one whose mother was a striptease dancer in Siberia? I remember you quite well. I remember having raped your sister. I sold her to slave traders in the Bermuda Triangle. She became the President of the United States, didn't she?

He nodded his head vigorously. I knew you'd remember - he said. He was still smiling. He put his arm around my shoulder in a rather friendly way.

And aren't you - I persisted - the guy I killed last Friday? The guy whose head I chopped off? The guy whose body I burnt?

He nodded again - Yes, yes, we're old friends, you and I. It isn't possible that you don't remember me.

I pushed him away and ran for my life. He was weird.

Chapter 3

I ran through long, convoluted corridors. Then, tired, I stopped. I saw a lady walk towards me. She was tall, with dark hair and no lipstick. She stood in front of me. She smiled. I smiled. We smiled.

Hello - I said.

She smiled again, and smooched me. We smooched for about a minute. She then punched me in the jaw and stomach. Still smiling, she walked away. I didn't follow her.

Chapter 4

When I caught my breath, I opened the door nearest to me. It was a passage. It led to the garden. The garden led to a forest. The forest led nowhere. I went to the forest.

It began to rain. I was cold, tired, miserable and wet. I was hungry too.

I was in the forest for two days. Then, I saw the little girl. She wore a pink dress. I asked her to take me away. She just kissed me on my cheek, and disappeared.

I couldn't help crying. She always makes me cry.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Tue, 13 Feb 2007 13:31:00 +0000

These are what my shona drew for me. Well, consider yourselves blessed that you saw them (I know ... I know... I'm a kind and generous guy). And well, meow meow (to her, not to the lot of you).

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Sun, 11 Feb 2007 14:39:00 +0000

I'm disappointed
Lightning has never struck me
Though I've tried so hard.

****

The day I went mad
I screamed for all to see and hear
But no one noticed.

***

The girl I loved, she
Spent her time with other men
Disregarding me.

So gorgeous that I
Did my best to take her in
She laughed at my face.

***

Red drops trickle down
Staining grimy fingertips
Seep into the ground.

Scars on gorgeous wrists
Hurt the ones who love them so
Foolish foolish child.

***

Insanity's hard
Madmen don't know how to cry
Don't know how to laugh.

***

The devil's my friend.
I help him and he helps me.
We don't need a god.

***

Shameless shameless child
Don't know why you write Haiku.
Bores the pants off me.

***

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Mon, 05 Feb 2007 13:13:00 +0000

I entered warily. Thunder. The smell of burning rubber. The smell of rotting meat. The smell of my mum cooking.

I was a little boy - timid and hesitant. I was afraid. I picked up a tomato and stared at it. Maybe if I stared hard enough, I'd dissapear and reappear somewhere else. Somewhere nice. Somewhere safe. It didn't work.

I put the tomato down. Chop chop. Chop chop. Dabble dabble, toil and trouble. Fire burn; and couldron, bubble.

"Mom," I said, my voice shaking "I'm not hungry. May I please skip dinner?"

Her eyes were filled with tears. Suddenly, the story took a melodramatic turn, not unlike a crappy, television soap. She was weeping, and it was all my fault. "Okay, okay, I'll eat," I said, regretting it immediately. Because dinner, my uninterested friend, was served.

An hour later, chaos. Three hours later, silence. The silence of a hospital ward. Or maybe a morgue. I don't know. I was too disoriented to notice.
There was a lady standing beside me; pretty, blonde, and, by the looks of it, rich. She had a dusky, enchanting voice. "Come," she said "Let's make love." I smiled, and shook my head. "Let's not," I said "Let's just have hot, sweaty sex instead." And just as she was about to agree, just as she was about to expose her ... ahem ... nevermind. Well, just as she was about to expose them, she turned into a huge cutlet. My mum had made cutlets for dinner.

I woke up shivering. Ofcourse it was a dream. My mum doesn't cook that badly, you know.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Fri, 12 Jan 2007 15:47:00 +0000

I hear a tinkling, bell-like noise.
I wake up,
And SCREAM.

I hear her soothing, rhythmic voice
She tells me that it’s all a dream.

I wake up later, and she’s gone
She left me with a teddy bear.
I hold it, kiss it, cuddle it
I wring its neck,
And SCREAM.

She does not hear me, is she ill?
I cannot see her – look around
A purple mist flows off the ground,
Draping me
Caressing me
Making my eyes burn; and I
Cannot scream. I go sit down.

I shall wait until she comes.
How mean!
How cruel!
Leaving me all alone while I sit here raving ranting to myself with nothing to do and no one to see and no place to go incidentally I wonder whether you’ve noticed that cool silver orb floating towards me ever so slowly as if it were trying to fool me into believing it isn’t there which is so stupid I think because –
Oooooooh! What a pretty little yellow elephant!

Will you be my friend? We can go on amazing adventures, you know. No?

Nevermind. No thank you. I’ll still wait for her.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Sat, 06 Jan 2007 16:53:00 +0000

"H don't howl in iambic pentameter". Yeah right.

Oh the hurricane was howling,
And the sky was grump and scowling,
And the mist was out a-prowling,
On that cold and scary night.

And the lonely winds were shrieking,
And the dark, black clouds were leaking,
And the sky seemed to be speaking
Now, in dazzling bursts of light.

Oh the trees were all a-swaying,
And the villagers were praying,
For the night seemed to be saying,
That nobody would be spared.

And the priestesses were preaching,
With their priestly voices screeching,
And the village was beseeching
Gods who hardly ever cared.

And the children were all crying,
And the mothers, they were sighing
For the stormy nights were trying
times, as trying as can be.

And a lunatic was talking
to himself, and he was rocking
on a chair, and this was shocking
Since the lunatic was me.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 17:40:00 +0000

Let’s write a little rhyme
‘Bout sex, and sin, and crime
Dishonesty and cheating
And violence and wife-beating
‘Bout cancer and ‘bout AIDs
And steely razor blades.

My god, it’s such a terrible bore
To write down things which I adore.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 17:39:00 +0000

Ding Dong Bell
What’s that ghastly smell?
Well, what do you think?
It is the kitchen sink.
And I must tell you
It’s time to clean the loo.

This is the house that I possess
I’ve got to clean my ghastly mess.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 17:29:00 +0000

One day we played at the beach.
My sister winked at a leech.
The leech was so happy,
It peed in its nappy,
And made my poor sister screech.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 17:18:00 +0000

O, watch the fat boy dance
O, watch the fat boy dance
O, Sit and sigh and shut an eye and go into a trance.

Then hear the wedding bell
Then hear the wedding bell
The mournful ring, a curious thing, somebody’s gone to hell.

Let’s sing a little song
Let’s sing a little song
Let’s rant and rave, and misbehave, and curse out loud in Bong.

Let’s all go out for tea
Let’s all go out for tea
What I will do is poison you, before you poison me.

I’ve got a brand new car
I’ve got a brand new car
But Oh my gosh! It needs a wash. I’ll park it in my shower.

And is this bugging you?
Oh is this bugging you?
Then roll your eyes, and fantasize, ‘bout something better to do.

Of course, you could just leave
Of course, you could just leave
I’ll write some prose, and wipe my nose upon my new shirt sleeve.

I’m as mad as can be
I’m as mad as can be
I’m so insane, I lost my brain, or maybe it lost me.

This childish little rhyme
This childish little rhyme
I love so much, although it’s such a waste of all your time.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Mon, 01 Jan 2007 15:37:00 +0000

For those of you who don't know Pikachu (not the Pokemon, the other one), you missed something special.

Once upon a time in space,
Quite near the x-y plane
I came across a curve who was
So obviously insane.

A carefree, happy curve was he,
He spent both day and night
Plaguing math profs ‘round the world
And giving them a fright.

For when they thought they had him graphed
He’d suddenly inflect.
And being perverse, he’d turn around
And then self-intersect.

He’d go, hit on the circles and,
Seduce the kinky squares.
He’d try to touch his asymptotes
And feel their ordered pairs.

The profs at Harvard soon gave up
He drove them all to tears.
The profs at Brown claimed that he was
The sum of all their fears.

The profs at MIT (you know,
They’re such a cool, hep bunch!)
They tried and tried, and fail, and sighed
And then went out for lunch.

The profs at Caltech tried to hold
A small math convocation.
The profs at UPenn all gave up
In anger and frustration.

The profs at Yale are orderly,
they sat and tried in pairs.
The profs at Bhaggu … Nevermind
‘Cos no one really cares.

The math community at large
Was quite depressed and sad,
And claimed it never saw a curve
So misbehaved and mad.

But when I saw this curious curve
I smiled, because I knew
A creature who could help me out
And that was Pikachu.

And Pikachu approached the curve
And smiled his dreamy smile.
He blinked his eyes (which mesmerize)
And stood there for a while.

The curve, he seemed to be in shock
For he had never seen
A boy so clueless and so dumb,
And frankly, so obscene.

Then Pikachu began to speak,
His English gone awry.
In his ghastly Madu voice,
He asked him, “Vot’s up, bhai?”

The curve grew pale, he screamed to me
(His voice was filled with fear)
“I swear I’ll do the things you ask,
Just GET HIM OUT OF HERE!”

“I swear, I swear, I shall be good
And I shall go get graphed.
I will not be the way I was,
I swear I won’t be daft.

And ever since this incident
The curve was never bad.
He never freaked out on the graph,
He never acted mad.

So if your curve does misbehave
Don’t fret, here’s what to do:
Just go ahead and intersect
Your curve and Pikachu.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Tue, 19 Dec 2006 05:38:00 +0000

It’s six o’clock at Monadock
And they say all is well
We lead our life
In little hives
Towards a private hell

Sit there, talking to the ocean
Gazing wide-eyed at the sky
Angels dance on silver pinhead
Thoughts and reason gone awry

Shell-shocked hair; and eyes grow weary
Stubble itches, teeth decay
Face grows haggard. Told you, dearie
That’s the price you’ve got to pay

Think you’re smart, and so talented
Delusion seems to have a way
Of leading smiling sheep to slaughter
And that again is the price you pay

Creepy little good-for-nothing
So much ego, so much pride
I notice that you’re always smiling
Hiding scars so deep inside

What do you call a worthless someone
Who it does seem has no goal
Than weep and wail, than convulse with laughter
End up scarring his own soul?

I hope you have a nice day, reader
Go dream about the flowers and trees
And oceans, clouds and golden sunlight
Bleak, dark human miseries.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Sat, 16 Dec 2006 10:37:00 +0000

Somewhere over the rainbow
Where insipid dreams come true
A fairy-tale place, where you trusted me
And where I trusted you.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Where love is as it should be
Where I don't end up hurting you
And you stop hurting me.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Where all our dreams come true
You learn to stop deceiving me
And I, deceiving you.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Where days and nights are young
Where songs of pity, pride and pain
Are left unheard, unsung.

Somewhere over the rainbow
The sun, it dared to shine
And I did dare to sit by you
And hold your hand in mine.

Somewhere over the rainbow
A nightingale did trill
In pale moonlight, beside the lake
we sat, and time stood still.

Somewhere over the rainbow
I heard you laugh with glee
Tintinnabulation
Laughing there with me.

But this side of the rainbow
The world is bleak and bare
The night is dark; and cold; and long
My rainbow isn't there.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Tue, 12 Dec 2006 12:41:00 +0000

Oink was here. Again.

noreply@blogger.com (the psycho guy) — Sun, 03 Dec 2006 13:23:00 +0000

Oink was here.