I Revel in Pretension

I wish to talk and have nothing to say
a little uneasy I am, with my current state of
nagging thoughtlessness

Just how much out of touch with self, is illustrated through
this pathetic attempt at verse,
(and an effort in vain to imitate a friend)
resisting hard, my typical style of “bitter poetry”
(the kind seeking authenticity by rhyming it with a lavatory)

Wondering all this while whether a talk about Afzal Guru,
will grant the right pretension of a social conscience
Or casual musings about the coming India vs. Australia match
may convey better my “non girly” extra curricular interests

Or if it is more entertainingly absurd, to talk about how
yesterday, I earnestly read the “Female Eunuch”
and with equal solemnity perused through web pages
revealing Victoria’s Secrets
aspiring through all this chatter for the “cool” incongruity of
being (or aleast being called!) a feminist sexist

Or if I can talk about my thoughts at the launch of a new TV show
Though attempting a Don Quixotic bravado at even
verbalising the thought to do so
(I bloody well know that - ‘Big Brother’ is ALWAYS watching)

Rambling till this far, I feel a sense of pride in retaining consistence
in lack of economy of words and
the originally assured thought recession
(a keen eye may also spot a delightful faithfulness to
unoriginality in theme as well as the language)

I know not, however, how to end this charade...

Tired as I am, of my own silly word play
And keen to be in bed, I ask for bit of a leeway
To drop mid-way the experiment and
Stick to the formulae

“I revel in pretension”
let that be the name of my first claim to poetic
notoriety or as I imagine – eminence and fame