Before it annihilates every taste bud of tantalizing freshness in your tongue; transforming you into an into an insane dragon wanting to gobble worthless chunks of desolate deathly fire all the time,
Before it besieges every droplet of your royally persevered sweat with its rotten stench of parasitic gloom; making you feel like a miserable ant waiting to be trampled any instant; even after achieving the entire wealth of the world,
Before it curses you with the onset of lividly emancipating old age in the prime of ebullient youth; as hordes of veritably old men and women hoisted your paperweight frame; for you to do your daily chores,
Before it makes you a blatant outcaste with your very own intestines; which preferred to choke forever into submission; rather than bear the poisonous puff of wind indescribably molesting them,
Before it blows the candles of your mesmerizing life forever; with the horizons of its asphyxiating blackness; which never rose to any fresh dawn or sparkling tomorrow,
Before it painstakingly chars every organ of your beautiful body into the coffins of extinction; with your orphaned black soot then being compared with some of the most lamentful specimens of self-destruction,
Before it makes you an integral part of its thwarted family- consisting of nothing else but boundless mortuaries of ghosts; spirits and countless other bits of despondent meaninglessness,
Before it takes your holistic spirit far far away from God; as you were not just simply exhaling it; but creating living carriers of cancerous disease all around you; each time you breathed out that tawdrily contaminated air,
Before it insidiously creeps in the form of raw red to the edge of your throat; dissipating into oceans of immeasurable slain blood everytime you stuttered; wheezed and spat,
Before it penalizes you to the most extreme degrees of seclusion; disease; repulsion; abhorrence and death; for just being a wonderful host to that lackadaisically jaded pipe like structure with your lips,
Save your life. Kill the Smoke. Stamp the cigarette. Quit smoking forever.
25. MAN-THE BIGGEST HYPOCRITE
He thanked the simmering rays of the Sun from the innermost realms of his heart; for compassionately befriending his every heartlessly chilly winter morning,
Whilst the same man unrelentingly abused the same Sun for transforming him into a gutter of disdainful sweat; as the peak of afternoon crept by and he trespassed his terrace barefoot.
He thanked the voluptuous puffs of clouds for permeating each instant of his otherwise bedraggled day; with unparalleled ?fantasies of desire; charm and inseparable longing,
Whilst the same man viciously abused the same clouds for bruising him beyond repair; as he stumbled into the valley shouting for his life; losing his footing into the velvety fading light.
He thanked the tree to no end for providing him the most blissful shade of his life; wading all his worries to an eternal rest as he uninhibitedly slept on its motherly trunk,
Whilst the same man intransigently abused the same tree for becoming an infuriating hindrance; as he frantically searched for his beloved amidst the fathomless network of forest grapevines; branches; stalks and leaf.
He thanked the gigantic waves till his last trace of voice; for rhythmically lifting his boat high and handsome towards the sky; with poetically vivacious strokes galore,
Whilst the same man bawdily abused the same waves for betraying him as he sank to the rock bottom of the ocean with his boat; suddenly not able to withstand the undefeated flamboyancy of the waves anymore.
He thanked the surreally silent night with all his might; for giving him that much needed inevitable reprieve from the vagaries of this planet; where every robotic morning of worry led him to think only suicide,
Whilst the same man unsparingly abused the same night for rendering him in a state of abject loneliness; deserting him in fear of being indiscriminately robbed as he incoherently babbled with the winds.
He thanked the unflinchingly straight walls with tears of gratitude in his eyes; for being his best and most faithful companion; as he talked to them when the entire world shunted and made parodies of his eccentric delights,
Whilst the same man vindictively abused the same walls for badly bruising his nose and imprisoning him till eternity; each time he tried to run and feel the fresh atmosphere; outside.
He thanked the fathomless desert for triggering his imagination to the most unprecedented limits; as the endless expanse of golden sands made him a spontaneous artist filled with prolific joy of the living kind,
Whilst the same man inconsolably abused the same desert for making him completely lose his moorings; hopelessly stranding him amidst a labyrinth of only dust; as he winced to take on the force of one of his chilliest nights.
He thanked the gustily blowing wind with open arms; for soaring his kite like the ultimate magician up into bits of limitless sky; as his fingers swayed to the tunes of the ardently charged string,
Whilst the same man inexorably abused the same wind for ruthlessly pushing him to a racy death---100 floors down his building; as it blew just a trifle too harder for his comfort ?and his foot inadvertently tripped.
He thanked the triumphantly scintillating glass for honestly portraying every contour of his personality; as he stood up with integrity on his hard earned patch of soil,
Whilst the same man implacably abused the same glass for making him an inferior societal neglect; as it reflected scores of other thousands of beings more beautiful than him; and he now prepared himself to lead a life ahead full of misery; self-destruction and gloom.
He thanked the virgin streaks of white lightening for igniting the most dormant arenas of his brain; leading him to discover the inexplicably mysterious world beyond the mundane,
Whilst the same man horrifically abused the same lightening for reducing him into bits of invisibly ludicrous ash; as he stood a bit longer under it to admire it in its
full and untamed glory.
He thanked the tumultuously pelting drops of sensuous rain with passionate folded palms; for blessing every disastrously parched nerve of his with rhapsodic delight ,
Whilst the same man barbarously abused the same rain for indefinitely stranding him within four walls; as the incessant downpour exasperatingly cut his every feasible link with the commercial globe outside.
He thanked the boundlessly dense forests for allowing him to discover his quintessential roots; as he let the seductive spray of the dew evoke memories of the supernatural and beyond; in the spectacularly star-studded night,
Whilst the same man remorsefully abused the same forests for making him a wastrel wanderer; slapping the tag of a good-for-nothing eccentric recluse into his
now mysteriously groping eyes.
He thanked the compassionate woman living with him for making him feel complete in every aspect of his existence; transcending his every desire beyond the zenith of fulfillment,
Whilst the same man cruelly abused the same woman for circumscribing his life into realms of responsibility; rendering him a mere puppet to fulfill his worldly duties bereft of all spice; after a while.
You know why. Because every Man on earth; myself included; ?is the biggest Hypocrite
26. WRITING POETRY
Writing poetry is like the newborn draughts of ecstatic wind; kissing the innocuous cluster of green leaves; with the most uninhibited ardor and camaraderie of all times,
Writing poetry is like the soul wholesomely cleansing itself of even the most inadvertently committed of its sins; as it blended with the beats of magical verse; which transcended over every religion; caste; creed; color and tribe,
Writing poetry is like a bird exuberantly flapping its wings; having just being released from years of insidious captivity; and now ready to commence upon its most royal flight,
Writing poetry is like the queenly droplet of glistening sweat; which tantalized the skin to the nth degree of s
ensuousness; as it enchantingly traversed towards the most hidden corner of the big toe; and then embraced death,
Writing poetry is like a kingly magnet attracting the most inanimate objects; and then befriending them forever in a swirl of invincible togetherness; under the broadest daylight and sinister blackness of the morbid night,
Writing poetry is like a vivacious rainbow enlightening even the most drearily lambasted portions of adulterated living kind; with new found rays of courage; compassion and everlasting hope,
Writing poetry is like pristine white lightening enrapturing the entire Universe; reducing every trace of sin to infinitesimal ash; and rekindling every soul towards the path of freshly untainted optimism,
Writing poetry is like an untamed whirlpool reaching its enthralling crescendo; and devouring everything and anything that came in its vicinity; into the flames of its unabashed desire,
Writing poetry is like the ebullient scent of virgin mud after showers of unfettered rain; which evoked life of all shapes; sizes and color on the Universe; to sing and dance in the timeless rhythm of a united existence,
Writing poetry is like a cathartic revolution for something to happen from the wisps of absolute nothingness; so that every ingredient of the besmirched human atmosphere; started to reverberate with the pulsations of companionship,
Writing poetry is like the wail of freshly born life; when the cradle of undefeated innocence bonded one and all alike; in a never before celebration of infallible newness,
Writing poetry is like the crackling voice of thunder heard at a distance; tingling the corridors of the mind with mystery unprecedented; as cloudbursts of rain fervently advance in their odyssey towards simmering ground,
Writing poetry is like freshly formed globules of golden dew being dispersed into a boundless more bits of their kind; with every footstep that voluptuously caresses the blades of sensitive grass,
Writing poetry is like dazzling rays of dawn splitting into zillion rays of blessed light; illuminating every conceivable cranny of earth; with the joyously rejoicing power to survive; till destined,
Writing poetry is like a promise made and irrefutably adhered to till the end of life; upon the foundations of solidarity; truth; friendship and most importantly the religion of humanity,
Writing poetry is like a nightingale humming the sweetest songs of its life; every day a different tune; but with an unhindered intensity which kept proliferating leaps and bounds; till the time it existed,
Writing poetry is like an undefeated zealous wave; which rose yet again; victoriously undulating and high towards blue sky; even after being reduced to nothingness- clashing against the merciless grey rocks,
Writing poetry is like uninhibitedly dancing upon every chance that life offered; expending every ounce of trapped frustration in the nerve wrecked body; to blend in impregnable oneness with the fathomless atmosphere,
Writing poetry is like falling deeper and deeper into the valley of Immortal love; a love which made you feel alive without a grain of food in your body; as it became your sole reason; elixir; direction and adventure to survive.
27. SWEAT BATH
Neither was the most contemporarily powerful of air-conditioner needed; even as the heat outside raced to an unbearable scorch,
Neither was there the most infinitesimal puff of wind that could provide any respite; as time painstakingly crawled to welcome a fresh dawn,
Neither did ice form into mesmerizing cubes even in the deepest freeze; as virtually everything in vicinity was shredded asunder in fiery whirlpools of the afternoon,
Neither did wondrously tantalizing waves of the oceans reach the penurious doorstep; as they were pragmatically speaking - continents and poles apart,
Neither did the most rhapsodically delectable ice-creams and candies cause a diminutive dent; as the blazing heat pulverized the same into frigid pulp-even before they could reach the lips,
Neither did the most mellifluously nostalgic of songs cause an impact- as shades of adulterated humane yellow pierced the atmosphere; as draughts of warm air swept their might,
Neither did the most enchanting of praises reach the ears; as asphyxiating dust and morbid smoke; squandered through a landscape of population with a forlorn will to kill,
Neither did the darkest shades of black tinted glass come to any rescue- as though the dark films sequestered from direct impact; they absorbed heat at the same time to eventually distort beyond recognition,
Neither did the merrily artificial tap of water provide the tiniest of solace; as it soon started to emit hostile steam usurped by the storm of volcanic heat which wavered fiercely around,
Neither did the glass of freshly extracted fruit juice render the slightest of rejuvenation- as it miserably evaporated to reveal the last grains of sugar and salt blended within; as famished palms groped fervently ahead to clutch it,
Neither did snow flakes disdainfully thrown astray by the passing carts create a whiff of cool- as the parched tarmac devoured those few globules of water first; even before any living form dared creep near them,
Neither did the most majestic of castles generate a shy beam of shade; as their walls themselves scorched like a ravaging bulldozer; sulking at the angst that came alongwith the heat- instead of a grain of compassionate comfort,
Neither did the historically quaint well guarantee any beacon of a promise; as when one tread right to its mystically intrepid bottom- the discovery did yield hollowness but without a droplet of liquid to compliment,
Neither did the sensuously nestled swimming pool offer a fantasy of revitalizing delight; as arid winds laced with venomous smoke stabbed its periphery; metamorphosing its charmed persona into a parsimoniously fetid gutter line,
Neither did the princely fountain adorning the bustling street offer a trifle of an enthrallment- as the spray that once upon a time kissed the chin after ricocheting of ground; now abruptly dried midway in fireballs of acrimonious heat,
Neither did the couch of astoundingly pure velvet generate any comfort; as before anyone could nestle on its enamoring softness- its covers melted in the tyrannical heat- and out came charging the unabashed coiled springs,
And yet I was unabashedly relishing each ounce of my existence; even as the tumultuous summer heat whipped every bit of joy from the solar-plexus of survival,
As I romanced in the golden stream of mortal sweat that sensuously dribbled down my skin- to give me my victorious "Sweat-Bath".
28. HUMAN EMOTIONS?
I swooned, collapsing on the ground like a pack of?plastic cards,?
after viewing ghastly images of Dracula on the silver screen.
I burst into fits of laughter, somersaulted wildly with?my intestines aching,?
as the talented comedian coated his face with slimy?egg yolk.?
I sobbed in unrelenting hysteria when one of kin?left for heavenly abode,?
envisaged the dismal life to be led, bereft of his?captivating presence.?
I contorted my face in creases of unbearable agony,?
as an army of red ant stung supple arenas of my skin.?
I danced tenaciously with mounting spurts of?exuberance,?
after clearing rigorous impediments of the final?examination.?
I uttered syllables at unprecedented speeds,?
with my tongue swishing against dark cavities of teeth,?
when quizzed by the police for my catalogue of?misdeeds.?
I rapidly exhaled trapped air in my lungs,?
as I clambered up the terrain in a bid to reach the?ultimate pinnacle.?
I blushed an austere amount of scarlet crimson,?
when caught red handed stealing warm blood apples from?the tree.?
I riveted my gaze towards amber streaks of the distant?horizon,?
stared in mute silence as the sun finally sank behind?towering peaks of the?mountain.?
I slept in a tranquil bliss spinning romantic webs in?dreamy sedation,?
after assiduous amounts of labor executed in the?steaming sun.?
I felt relieved of Herculean strings laden with?tension,?
after gliding through Luke warm waters of the?sparkling pool.?
I felt uncensored avenues of my heart throb at?rollicking pace,?
Life = Death - volume 10 - Poems on Life , Death Page 7
