dipsitesonthenet

DELHI PUBLIC SCHOOL R K PURAM

DPS Vs. Modern : The WAR Continues ........

The WAR began with an offensive poem written by a Modernite about DPS. The poem attracted a prompt reply from a dipsite. This was soon followed by some more poems from both the sides. Click on the links below to view the respective messages.

1. Poem Written by Modernites about DPS

2. THE DPS REPLY : POEM ONE

3. MODERN'S RESPONSE to DPS Poem

4. THE DPS REPLY : POEM TWO

5. ANOTHER POEM BY A MODERNITE

6. THE DPS REPLY : POEM THREE

 


Poem Written by Modernites about DPS

"Hello, I'm a Dipsite,
I talk in maths
I buzz like a fridge
I'm like a detuned radio"

Where on earth can you find
A guy with a face that'll drive you blind
Where on earth can you see
A female with legs like the trunk of a tree
Where on earth would you find a dude
who admits his school has no attitude
Do I really need to say it out loud
It's DPS of course, with its lousy crowd

Dipsites; what can I say?
To a clan whose head-boy is gay
The evil black widow controls their lives
The mindless zombies, they never strive
To break the shackles, or loosen the bonds
Because they just don't have the balls

Individual specimens are too many to describe
It's enough to say that they're a dull grey tribe
Forget about others, they don't know each other
Each Dipsite I've met just bitches about another
They're a pack of faceless jackals
Blundering through their wasteful lives
Like the million drones that you would
Find in a swarming beehive

Don't mention their achievers
Those lifeless hapless prisoners
They're just imports; lured into the web
By the cunning black widow; what she does is grab
At well-known but gullible prodigies
With hostel accommodation and concessions in fees
She believes in total control
She takes away their very soul

And what about the mental separation
The blatantly pernicious segregation
Blue-coat, Green-coat, blah blah blah
Separate classes and all that crud
Forcing the poor kid to think he's a dud

Writing this poem was a whole lot of fun
And I'm really happy to see what I've done
I've really buried DPS under the rubble
So put that under your lid and let it bubble.

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THE DPS REPLY : POEM ONE
Modern - [ Where the boys are bores and the girls are wh*res ] - Volume 1

There exists a sad excuse for a school,
Tucked somewhere in the realms of VV...
It was undoubtedly started by a fool,
Or some astronomically sadistic loony...
Modern- The Educational Hellhole,
Modernites- A whole mutated race..
And if society was a supermodel; Modern would be the blemish
On her otherwise perfect face...

Modernites play an indispensable role,
In this wonderful world of ours..
Who else would bang into a pole,
And knock people off with their cars?!
Who would get drunk and dance and spew on the road,
And keep us entertained for hours?!
Oh if not for marvelous Modernites,
We wouldn't know that there is, indeed, life on Mars...

Modern-Mecca Of Dumb, Extremely Rankling Neanderthals...
Its a haven for those rich, spoilt brats.
Converse with a Modernite, and you'll be convinced,
That he posesses the IQ of a cap.
The boys are far from virile,
The girls are bereaved of their wits,
The teachers are largely strange and senile,
And instead of brains; everyone's got bricks.

The babe brigades discuss only globally vital things,
Namely lipstick and eyeliner and their numerous pairs of shoes...
And the boys-they act like bloody pompous kings,
As they guzzle down their seemingly infinite bottles of booze...
Oh and now that I'm on such a roll,
I simply must felicitate...
Modernites for not scoring a solitary goal,
Or for that matter, not winning a single debate.

Alright, so some Dipsites might not be,
Too easy on the eyes...
And some girls may have legs like the trunks of a tree,
But they've got brains of the same size...
A Dipsite isn't exactly a Brad Pitt of sorts,
That I will readily concede...
But the last Modernite I saw was a cultivator of warts,
And about as appealing as an opuntia weed...

This piece of vindictive prose isn't yet complete,
Because Glorious Goldy certainly deserves a mention,
Beware-don't make a sound when you breathe,
For she just might give you detention.
She is evil-belonging to the night,
But I don't really blame her,
If she exercises tyranny with all military might,
Ye never know; those Modernites may just maim her!

Really, this inveighing has gone too far,
But I'm having incredible fun,
And you all better thank your stars,
That in my hand is a pen, not a gun.
Oh Modern-Where the dumb and dumber mingle,
Where mediocrity is hailed as genius,
Modern-where its uncool to be single,
And where people are annoyingly imperious.

Stay for only a little bit more,
Because I'm very nearly finished,
And now that I've cried blue murder galore,
I doubt your Dipsite-hatred would've diminished.
This may not be as witty or as verbose,
As Pranay's little masterpiece in verse,
But my intuition tells me that the next time I'm seen,
It may very well be in a hearse.

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MODERN'S RESPONSE TO  DPS POEM

DPS: (That says it all)

The plugs are pulled
The stops are pulled
The wounds are open and leaking
This means war, you little shit, no more tentative joking

I shall now deliberately proceed to destroy
your big-shit school,
its students, teachers
and everyone in its employ

It's very very obvious from all that you write
that your hidden desire is to be a Modernite
But trapped in the asylum called DPS RK Pee
you're just a faceless blunder no longer open or free
Maybe you should seriously consider a change of scene
The psychological problem you are headed for is deep

I do not care whether you were impressed by my DPS poem
I don't even care whether you thought it a masterpiece in verse
To me your miniscule amount of grudging respect
has the same, no lesser, status as the bite of some insect

Your every word screams out to me "I AM A HOPELESS WANNABE"
You think "Since I have never deserved to be a Modernite
I might as well be brave about it
And put up a token fight"

Hah! The infinite gall!
Of this insignificant Dipsite
She talks through her head, methinks
She some light in her life

Now I won't get too personal
Because that's below my calibre
I can rip DPS' face apart
Like Noel did Liam Gallagher's

Let's begin to talk
Of the real issues
why've your knees started quaking
Like thin paper tissues

Modernites do get drunk
And spew on the road
But it's not as if this is not done by Dipsites
who, needless to say, fail to make the headlines

As for brains, well believe you me
The average Modernite has more than three
Of your big shots put together
That's why he can sail through life
cool and easy, no pain or strife
The Dipsite is blown away like a feather
by the gale of Modernites working together

And now we come to something
That you really shouldn't have said
It's awakened within me demons
I thought were long dead
The boys are far from virile, she says
And forces me to point out
That such is the quality of goods on offer
such is the pulchritude swelling our coffers
we do not care for anyone
Below a certain standard
That's right, sunshine,
you've made a good guess
The qualifying standard for all of us
is above Miss DPS

What prompts her to make such outlandish claims?
Maybe it's jealousy that in this way maims
Her already vindictive nature
She is envious of her Modernite counterparts
Because of the Modernite males
She calls our ladies whores, which if they were,
They would notch up record sales
Desperate for solace
She seeks to convince
her fermenting, troubled mind
That DPS is really better
While it's actually far behind

Now back to brains
you need to be told
that the per capita brain over here
is higher than any DPS has had for many years
Maybe you're better at getting marks
At pulling your innocent children apart
Over slight differences in IQ
Not only inhuman, it's unnatural too
except for DPS; that illegit zoo

There's just one thing that I condescend
to accept from your poem
The Goldy bit is sadly true
But then, what about Chona?
If I was Ishaan, I might even try
To rhyme the word with 'rona'

OK that's enough for now
Although I have more material
But I will stop here and control
My urge to further wreck
Your shitty school, its boys and girls
Its every little speck
I see you trembling as you stare
At the screen petrified
It slowly dawns upon you that
every word here is true
Hey; I'M A MODERNITE
WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

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THE DPS REPLY : POEM TWO

In the land of the emancipated, the realm of the free,
There exist the intellectually constipated, that brood eerie...
With vocabulary so limited that four letter words abound,
And when anyone uses five he is considered profound;

Thus with due respect to a Modernite's poetic endeavour,
I wish to pen one of my own for intellects to savour...

Alas, I am but compelled to admit
That by the term 'intellect' I am forced to omit;
All such beings who have to confess,
That they belong to Modern - that septic mess.

Modern oh modern wherefore art thou,
Whither is thy glory in imitating a sow?

So I say and so the sow shall reap,
Say amen and urge the Lord their souls to keep.
For we at DPS may be a much maligned lot,
But still we pray for Modern be it such a pestilential blot.

Where else does the world have occassion to see,
Such an institution that compels one to pee?
And have its students wallow in the muck,
Then with tears in their eyes, bless their luck !

With guys who are gays,
And gals such easy lays;
Modern begs an answer from the stars,
Why are their men from Venus and their women from Mars ?!

'Tis in DPS that we have found,
An answer to this question profound...
Whither from hath sprung this leprous outrage,
To which all humans take umbrage?

Read on dear reader, for the truth shall out,
While I swell with pride by again causing the Modernites to pout...

Why, you wonder,
Where was my blunder ?

Alas, 'twas by using the verb 'read' previously,
I have hurt Modernites grieviously...
For as is sadly acknowledged of late,
The ability to read at Modern is a much elusive trait !

Forsooth! Let not Modern's foibles interrupt the tale,
With the story of Modern's genesis I will thee regale;
While on Modern's origins many theories abound,
The truth be told, the best one's been found !

'Twas on a dark and stormy night,
When God was brooding on Man's sorry plight;
That an idea was born with a peal of thunder and flash of light....
One that was mandated to make our lives merry and bright.

As is with all good ideas, this one too was simple,
On whose composition the Lord could detect nary a pimple...

Why not, He mused,
Give some respite to the abused;
And with this noble objective He bethought a plan,
One for which we are grateful to a man.

His plan was to create a cesspit unimaginably foul,
And fling the Earth's refuse into its excrecable bowl.

He then searched high and low,
Many a drop of sweat did cross His brow,
For this was no easy task you see,
To foil the attempts of these worms to flee.

Many an algae encrusted rock was upturned,
Many a poisonous hive burned;
Plague infested swamps were trolled,
Toilet bowls and commodes polled...

This effort did ensure the deworming of the planet,
Decreed the Lord with a bang of his mallet;
But all this work would be for nought,
This battle not won and merely fought;
If He did not manage to wrest,
The foulest, malodorous, scab infested pest;
From the darkest recesses of Satan's rectum,
To lead the collected slime ad infinitum and ad nauseum.

This quest too is duly recorded ,
The good Lord's patience was speedily rewarded.
He then did have the Principal he sought,
For the institution He was to create as an afterthought.

Thus was created that haven for anal infestations,
The home away from home for those diseased manifestations.
Thus too was the world rid of its travails,
Though that hellhole Modern still prevails;

One can but hope that a miracle will occur,
And God once more shall come to our succour;
Someday again He will rise,
To obliterate with magic those Modernite lice !

Till that day does dawn,
Whence we are finally rid of that rectal spawn;
We at DPS must bite the lip,
Bear with fortitude that divine slip;
For though the Lord did provide temporary relief,
Modern's continued existence defies belief.

I trust that I have by now,
Quelled any doubts about how;
We at DPS need not tarry,
In using the truth to parry;
A Modernite's pathetic attempt to bluster,
By using a poem to muster;
Support for Modern that debauched den,
Where reside all those who fear us Dipsite men.

Lastly I do have this to say,
To keep further such attempts at bay;
Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these..."Its Modern"

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ANOTHER POEM BY A MODERNITE

"IM A DIPSITE 
MORE LIKE A KITE,
A CORNY BRAIN,
LIKE A PIECE OF GRAIN"

"IM A JERK,
WHO SINGS LIKE AN OLD CLERK,
AND I'VE GOT NO MONEY,
COZ' MY DAD IS A BUNNY,
AND THAT'S ME {A DPSITE}"

MY PRINCIPAL IS CHONA,
WHO ALWAYS DOES SOME DHONA,
SHE'S NOT FUNNY,
JUST LIKE A NANNY!!!

THAT'S THE STORY OF EVERY DIPSITE,
THOSE POOR MITES,
WHO CANT AFFORD A CAR,
COZ' THEIR MOMS WORK IN A BAR"

THEY'VE GOT NO BRAINS,
JUST A BUNCH OF NAMES,
AND SECTION FROM A-Z,
TO MAKE A PERSON DIE FOR SEARCHING 'P'

THEY'VE GOT CLASSROOMS,
JUST LIKE BATHROOMS,
AND MORONS,
WHO THINK THEY ARE GORAN {IVANISEVIC}

THEY GOT GIRLS THE SIZE OF ELEPHANTS,
WHO THINK LIKE A DUMB OLD SERVANT,
ITS IN THEIR BLOOD,
TO THINK LIKE A BIRD!!!

THEY THINK THEY ARE COOL,
BY BECOMING NAKED FOOLS,
AND THEY CUSS DAY AND NIGHT,
TO GIVE EVEN SATAN A FRIGHT!!!

THEY COME FROM DEMOLISHED HOMES,
WITH NO ROOF OR STONES,
LIKE WORMS THEY ROAM,
AND ALWAYS GROAN!!!

THEY THINK THEMSELVES TO BE HI-FI,
BUT IN TRUTH THEY ARE JUST COPYING US MODERNITES STYLE,
THEY DON'T KNOW THE MEANING OF ASS EVEN,
BUT I'M SURPRISED THEY DON'T EVEN RECOGNIZE THEIR OWN SPECIES!!!

IN THEIR DEEPEST OF HEARTS,
THEY WISH TO BE A MODERNITE,
TO BE IN MY POSITION,
TO BE ABLE TO MAKE A GOOD DECISION!!!

BUT THEY ARE JUST WANNABES,
WISHING TO BE ME,
AND I KNOW THAT THEY LOOK MORE OR LESS LIKE DUCKS,
COZ' IN THAT DINGY OLD   BUILDING OF THEIRS,
THEY DON'T EVEN NEED TO WEAR AN UNDERWEAR!!!

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THE DPS REPLY : POEM THREE

modern - where gals are so easy that they might give Amsterdam sluts a run for their money
only difference the sluts at least make money
these wannabes just live on their rich old mans money
oh well yeah we modernites are probably gonna take up our dad's business
after all kid rock is more important than a good college
and yeah before i forget if u hear someone call satan god
you would know you met a modernite
a true scumbag to the core
the place easiest to find a whore
all he can do is disparage praise
for he more than anyone else knows that praise is unduly granted to him
from its genesis  spawned with the hate for  superior intellect
the bony and sickly child beehive of anorexic multiplication
probably make good stewards in firms that dipsite may build
It hails being sad and unimaginative
the mere mention of a dipsite exposes the inbuilt self defence mechanism against intellect
swearing galore as a protectorate of rotten apprehensions
the school that shall putrefy