AMP Class - mama mia

Disclaimer: this poem is heartly dedicated to all 8th Electrical Students' (2008). This is a cultivation of my shit brain...I wrote it during one of the ongoing AMP class. Show's the plight of we students'... it is meant for sheer pleasure n nothin else.

one thing more...all those who - by the way - came over to this page...feel free to comment on this poem.

---bhargav trivedi
04EL036

m'am wid zest, came to the class,
we had d same shouting mass.

micro processor is her subject,
but our mind gonna be midget.

she started, n v embarked.
she on subject, v on cult.

ADD n SUBB, all r same.
no matter wat r d name.

8-bit or 16-bit,
horny cap, is wat we hit.

to store v 've register n memory
wat v like is a gal in a capry.

data pointer or stack pointer,
for us, they r only d sister.

mama mia, she's on shout,
letcha tell u, v r on hout.

teaches us something new,
for us, it's all a phew.

she say:

shake the mind n get the groove,
ponder on the prog. on the move.

we say:

programmin is all d bluff,
wat v like is the puff.

she 've zeal, v 've that too.
she 've guts, v 've that too.
she 've knowledge, oops...v don' 've.

though, micro is the subject,
v had never loosed the wicket.

P.S.
lect. goin on on micro processor,
m'am seems like a predator,
always kills the approcher,
but m a niche creature.

My take on morality: (abt women)

Take 1
Modern literati man, as murderer & witch consulter. Fuck. I really don mean in the way’ve written, bye I’m a mortal too, but atleast we can transform ourself from beast to the conscious non-despair human being.

Take 2
Surely the days are gone for patience with thinkers, who having to choose between giving up life in despair & discarding the trumpery moral kitchen scale (still poor to geography n geometry) in which they try to weigh the whole “universe”, superstitiously remain sticked to their home-made scales n resolutions, spend lives they pretend to despise – again, so sorry – in breaking men’s spirits., never vindicating onself.

Take 3
But even in pessimism, there is a distinctively distinguishable chance between intellectual honesty & dishonesty. Swift, accepting our system of morals n religion, delivered the inevitable verdict of that system on us through the mouth of the great king of the kingdom of “fantasy”. And yeah frnz, I’ve no technical objections – really not – in making sexual infatuation, a tragic theme. Experience proves that it is only effective in the comic spirit.

Take 4
Now let the realism have its real-time – time domain, I mean – demonstration, comedy, it’s criticism. – frequency domain, n it’s necessary time to time, to make onself realized about the real-time prospect. Otherwise, it ‘d be too hard to remain channalised n in synchronism. ‘coz – hiding n lifting horse-laugh at the expense made for sexual infatuation are sometimes are really useful(for example: getting beneficial to me as writing some non-sense shit like this, w/o any such real-time experience) & sometimes may prove fatal. Instead of this, if we’re subjected to think to subject our souls to it’s re-union glamour, to worship it, deify it, and imply that it alone makes our life worth living.

Somebody may say: hey man, fuck you, nothing but you, folly gone mad, let me think erotics n fuck off to nirvana.

Yeah, may be I’m talking (shit no…) scribbling some “niche trivia”.
And one more thing, it’s the “_______”.

Winter hiccups

Perpetuators of sub prime
Have created a crime
Gullibles are frantically searching for their dime
FM assures, don’t worry, everything is fine!

Europe has contracted the disease
Exchequer is dishing out blah blah for the ease
Cut the bank rate, and this is done for the mate
New entrants on Dalal Street are left to their fate.

Derivative dabblers have been shown the gate
The bull was made to run, as punters wanted fun.
Nibblers were searching for their bun,
FII’s quietly made their run, carrying their fun & bun.

Doubting Thomases sitting on the fence
Whether the market has bottomed out
Many have been left out,
Who knows whether it is blood or honey
But thy want to taste it, out & out,
Mid Cap or small Cap, the cap is out,
Long or short, gullibles wants to rake in money out & out;
Come all, come many, carrots are dangling out
More the merry, pickers are out for their cherry.

People in power can cut other’s power.
Fuse is out ‘coz of the recent by gone power
Blood bath or honey bath, that’s how we empower
Powerful predictions are for gas & power.

P.S. my pop wrote it. he's prof. in College of Fishries, Veraval. he's master mind in writin puns n anecdotes.

WOMEN OF YESTER YEARS AND GIRLS OF TODAY

Thousands of Indian women have given their might,
To prove against the British, they were right,
They have suffered, to free India, from the British yoke!
Such an endeavor to expect from females, was no joke.

They elucidated the brave deeds of the great sons,
At home and on every front, they did their sums,
A band worked overnight, to print pamphlets out,
Another went to every door, to hand it out.
Some looked to the needs of partisans;
They all worked for the cause of the nation, sans party!

Why females! Very few of the other tribe,
Know or care their contributions without an eye on moral gain,
Present day generation have lost, on front morally,
They are eager to impart alien cultures, to go globally.

With gender norms biased against them;
On every front, men are eager to turn tables against them;
They know not, what is in store for them;
Distractions abound, time is running out for them.

Times are changing, and globalization have opened up,
Gold mine of opportunities, which better be noticed, by sitting up,
Behold! The ‘second class’ citizens are inching up;
It will be too late, later on, to make up.

They think, they are lost in their make up!
They are staining every nerve for a proper get up;
Jeering and jibes will not help them to inch up.

All the time they are at the receiving end:
Age of troubles, is at the fag end.
For them, the means justifies the end,
Hegemony and subjugation is now nearing its end.

Hats off to the fair sex,
They have excelled in every product mix.
Avenues have opened up, with their reservation.
It’s still inadequate for self-preservation.

Half hearted elders are working for their motivation.
They gloat, over question of their liberation.
Expecting them to work overtime,
They’ll prove their mettle, we hope in time.