We Shall Rebel

Written by Kaber Vasuki on 6/29/2009 09:37:00 PM

So I look at Lennon and Zappa,
and the other heroes I look up to,
who had something to say.

I think, where is my ideological hero,
of my land, of my language, like me?
The only ones who can try to fit the bill
are singing or writing love songs.

The few who do say what they think,
are not saying it loud enough,
or are not getting fed for what they say.

I might be the odd guy here,
or maybe it's just a phase,
or I'm just rambling about nothing.
We are after all Palahniuk's middle generation.

Maybe things would be more interesting,
if more of us took out our guitars,
and sang songs about things we really cared about.

Whatever happens though, old people
and others who don't understand,
we shall rebel, like our fathers did,
because we have nothing much else to do.

Pictures of the Sun

Written by Kaber Vasuki on 1/12/2009 04:40:00 PM

All that is, between the light and the land,
casts a shadow,
and I was trying to capture,
a shadow less frame.

In my room, the lamps define the boundaries for the darkness.
In my garden, the bees cast their shapes on the petals.
I imagine, that the desert dunes make heavenly shade,
and the docks loom over the sea waves.

In the morning, the shadows crackle with an eagerness,
but by mid day, they nap at my feet.
At dusk they extend an arm in friendship - only
to capture my world when the moon comes.

So the only pictures I managed without a shadow,
with not a trace of darkness,
and not a hint of shade,
are the pictures I took of the sun.

A blind boy and Rubik's toy

Written by Kaber Vasuki on 12/18/2008 08:02:00 PM

He held it sacred in his hand,
and fondled it with finger love.
Twisted it madly, almost wrenched,
the colourful plastic cube.

He held it close to his ear,
heard it click beneath his fingers,
smiled to himself while scrambling it again
“I like this” his announced.

“It’s a puzzle” I said, and asked:
“Shall I get you one in braille?”
He held it in front of his vacuous eyelid,
“I think it is more fun this way”

Lyrics - Poet and Guitar Project

Written by Kaber Vasuki on 6/18/2005 08:02:00 PM

Sweet Dude:


He said it tastes better in yellow light.
Like the greener grass, she said, on the other side.
Their world goes round in circles, so do you and I.
Sweet child, I'm still a little child.

Will you keep me close as you cast your charm.
Will you smile the smile you smile like you're not done.
Will you let me in or have you yet.
Will you remember or will you forget.

I'm tired of all those pretty girls,
walking round and counting stares. I know this comes way too soon, but sweet dude, sweet dude.

New guitars strum out of tune. New poets forget meter when they rhyme.
New lovers kiss for far too long.
New is just a function of time.

If you come and ask me, I shall lie. I'll lie.
Cause all I'm doing is bidding my time. My time.
Waiting for you to come around on your own.

New guitars strum out of tune. New poets forget meter when they rhyme.
New lovers kiss for far too long.
New is just a function of time.

As Close to Bliss

There is something wrong with this song
It sounds like something I've heard before
I can't say right from left or wrong
I'm stretched like superman, tummy on floor
Mary Jane in a gold and white gown
Is all rolled up and ready to go

This is as close to bliss as I can get
This is as close to bliss as I can be
This is as close to bliss as I know it
This is as close to bliss by me

Child, I can see you're scared
You ask me if praying will do
You're confused. Is God there?
But I think it's up to you
Mary Jane in a gold and white gown
Is all rolled up and ready to go

This is as close to bliss as I can get
This is as close to bliss as I can be
This is as close to bliss as I know it
This is as close to bliss by me

Get a Guitar

You stumble over grass blades,
Or you're shooting off to stars.
You're a part of a crusade,
Or you're searching for a cause.
You're falling in love, or you're falling apart.
You study under street lights, or draw graffiti on walls.
Go get a Guitar, Pick up a Guitar.

We'll play over the fretboard, pick up a few chords, come up with a melody, sing aloud our thoughts.
Go get a Guitar, Pick up a Guitar.

You're part of a country, or you're an outlaw, don't know where your going.
Go get a Guitar, Pick up a Guitar.