An old friend

An old friend or one who says he’s one,
tells me he despises ‘high’ metaphor –
as if metaphor were the Tower of Babel,
which one climbs and climbs, until
everything disintegrates into talking in
tongues – but he writes with such verbosity,
that I need a Thesaurus to only figure out that
what’s going on is going on.

And that’s not the point of poetry is it?
Ask me to talk of loneliness, and I’ll
give you a demonic room with crumbling wallpaper,
torn chintz grey curtains, and threadbare couches
with rusty nails sticking out, the dust asphyxiating
you while the television’s grainy screened, but people
around you are paradoxically dancing and revelling in
the same grimy place, smoking their joints, carousing,
cuddling and kissing, perhaps even fucking, oblivious
to glances from dilated pupils.

Ask him to talk of loneliness and he’ll say,
‘It’s a cacophonous Tophet where rumination
deliquesces and the recherché panache becomes
quotidian utilitarianism,’ which basically means
that it’s a shithole that deprives you of thought.

Well, he secretly admires me, and I, the size of
his lexicon, and we don’t need to talk of Autumn
or the Riemann hypothesis to figure that out.

I’ll smoke my cigarettes and drink my coffee
and he can sip his sherry while he’s eating caviar.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

Protected by Copyscape

22 responses

      • Beware the old friend
        who says he knows what is
        and talks like the firing squad
        of a quotidian quixotic quizz
        ( you like that one, Nitin ?).
        Yet don’t know which way
        the wind blows …
        Another Mr. Jones.

    • Yeah there’s way too much elitism in writing these days. I don’t mind it if it possesses some depth, but it’s often faux-elitism that’s very superficial. Thank you for your kind words.

  1. “And that’s not the point of poetry is it?”

    Is there ever a point? I’m not sure.

    If there is, then I fear I’ve been going about it all wrong, but I’d take coffee and cigarettes over caviar and sherry, any day.

    • I think the purpose of poetry is expressing yourself and conveying experience by infusing it with emotion. But then again, you do have a point. And yeah cigarettes and coffee any day. Thank you for your comment.

    • A little tongue in cheek there? 😋 Reminds me of Delta of Venus or to put it bluntly stories to a perverted rich, old bastard by Anaïs Nin. I couldn’t get past the first story even though I loved the masked wit. But hey, you’re not the old friend EC! And you know that already, but I just thought I’d say it. Your writing possesses depth. This is just satire directed towards bland writing that doesn’t make me think or feel. And I prefer writing that does the latter personally.

    • Thank you so much Diana! I’m glad. That cheered me up a bit today. The fascists won here in my state and so, I’m quite despondent. I have to stack up on beef before they burn all the meat shops that sell it.

      • I love the pun on the word! I shall use one of your favourite emoticons to express that 💕 Don’t get too used to it lol

      • A smile of pleasure that says, “Oh finally! The cantankerous beef eating, smoking, ribald bastard,’ or one one genuine concern. If it’s the latter, here’s sending you warm hugs. My actual feverish state will be detailed in my next post, which is a re-blog of what I wrote for Morality Park. I’ll let you assess the condition! I really want to know what you think of it. An expert’s opinion is better than self-medicating myself!

      • And forgive the typos that I just corrected. It’s the fever! I ate beef biryani today too. I don’t know how long before they take away these simple pleasures and force Gaia worship and militant veganism here all in the name of Hindu nationalism.

  2. Wonderful.
    I’d like to agree that, since his is merely verbosity, his caviar and sherry are only described as such. He’s just as much a consumer of cigarettes and coffee as you.
    (I loved so many lines in this, by the way. I think my favorite was “the dust asphyxiating.”)

    • There’s a peculiar species that drinks sherry and eats caviar but is shallow. So, there are all kinds of people in this thing we call a society. You often find dense published literature that’s just verbose and devoid of any depth. And thank you so much for your kind words Chelsea. I’m glad you liked the poem and loved a few lines. That truly means a lot to me.

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