Category Archives: poetry

The treacherously obsolete yesterday I had wholesomely forgotten; with even the most infinitesimal of its vapid impression dissolving into aisles of frigid nothingness,
What was going to happen today I had not the tiniest of innuendo about; groping into the mercilessly coldblooded darkness when I pondered upon the same,
Tomorrow was a tantalizing mirage; which kept eluding my invincible grasp more and more; as I tried to indefatigably snatch it,
But nevertheless I was still the unparalleled king of the current moment; rejoicing in its untamed glory to the most unprecedented limits; letting its bountiful majesty take complete control of every of my beleaguered vein.

The disastrously delirious yesterday had wholesomely evaporated from my life; with not even the most vehemently indignant of its maelstroms daring to come near me,
What was going to happen today I had not the most ephemeral insinuation about; shattering into boundless fragments of meaninglessness when I tried to tirelessly envisage about the same,
Tomorrow was a fathomlessly distant dream; about whose veritable reality I
couldn’t figure out head or spuriously withering tail,
But nevertheless I was still the unassailable king of the current moment; letting its unsurpassable enchantment celestially descend upon even the most diminutive cranny of my mind; body and quavering soul.

The truculently chauvinistic yesterday had completely deserted the chapter
of my life; with not even the most evanescent of its jinxed beam; reminiscent in the whites of my eyes,
What was going to happen today I had not the most capricious idea about; being banged like a haplessly disoriented coconut against the walls of diabolical hell; when I tried to flex my brain a trifle too much about it,
Tomorrow seemed to stretch beyond the realms of my molecular imagination;
with the fangs of viciously bellicose uncertainty perpetuating me from all sides,
But nevertheless I was still the uninhibited king of the current moment; letting its pragmatically panoramic beauty; entirely become the royally seductive veil of my horrendously tyrannized existence.

The baselessly crucifying yesterday had entirely abdicated my nimble presence; extinguishing into worthless horizons of irretrievably reproachful oblivion,
What was going to happen today I had not the most mercurial of gut feeling
about; being ruthlessly buried alive in coffins of intractable desperation; as I tried to valiantly decipher its ingredients of good and forlornly bad,
Tomorrow had still marathon hours to take irrefutably unshakable control; with a zillion murderous barricades yet to overcome,
But nevertheless I was still the limitless king of the current moment; letting its magnetically divine energy instill optimistically benign energy in my delinquent bones; to lead a countless more symbiotic lives.

The morbidly penalizing yesterday seemed gone since times immemorial; with
the first rays of Omnipotently brilliant dawn; transcending over even the most non-existent speck of the egregiously rampaging devil,
What was going to happen today I had not the most ethereal of understanding
about; being dissolved into mortuaries of hopeless insanity; when I tried to unambiguously picture the next hour from now,
Tomorrow seemed like it would never come; with the deplorable conundrum of
murderous manipulation and politics around me; engendering me to frenetically search for my every breath,
But nevertheless I was still the inimitable king of the current moment; letting its philanthropically synergistic heavenliness; beautifully coalesce each of my senses with the mantra of wonderfully egalitarian mankind; with the spirit of the Ever-Pervading; Divine.

Even if you failed me in mathematics; giving me the lowest marks in the entire school; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me while clambering the mountain slopes; making me stumble on the very first step itself; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all Even if you failed me while talking to colleagues; stuttering miserably on every word I spoke; It still wouldn’t
hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in Business; making me incur losses worth millions of rupees; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in making my food; wherein all I managed to prepare was sooty charcoal from the fields laden with infinite vegetables; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in building a house of my own; with all bricks hurtling down towards me before I laid them; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in finding the most precious of my gifts; with the entire team of detectives I hired simply unable to trace them; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in the battlefield; with a river of blood diffusing rampantly from my skin; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me while I was swimming; drowning me uncouthly for marathon hours before I reached the surface; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me while leaping from the sky; with the strings of my parachute failing to unwind; and the bones of my body shattering into a million pieces; It
still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in my flirtatious activities; with scores of girls on the street ridiculing me; when infact I desperately wanted their friendship; It still wouldn’t
hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in front of my parents; with them condemning my work as a lazy tribute to the soil; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me at reaching office early everyday; with my tyre getting punctured midway although I started hours before time; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me at snapping photographs; with people thrashing me black and blue for portraying them as decayed fruits; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me at swallowing medicines; with every attempt of mine to gulp resulting in disastrously puking out the same; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in procuring my livelihood; with every attempt of mine to earn finding me placed in the beggars seat; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in wearing my own clothes; with my shirt inevitably getting torn the instant I tried to fit it over my shoulders; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me while sleeping; jolting me off from my slumber every second with an armory of horrifying dreams; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

Even if you failed me in all quarters of life; making me despicably succumb and lick raw mud; It still wouldn’t hurt me at all,

And as I told you O! lord I wouldn’t mind it the least if you snatched away everything from me; failed me horrendously in every sphere of life; but please see to it that I kept writing poetry till the time I relinquished my last breath; make me the king of
poetry

The key to clamber the steep slope of the mountain; was a knotted rope; blended with overwhelming spirit of adventure,

The key to drive a car; was articulate maneuvering of the steering wheel; along with gallons of golden gasoline,

The key to solve an enigmatic riddles; was flexing the brain to unsurpassable limits;
and intense concentration,

The key to grow sumptuous grass on undulating expanse of land; was to sprinkle it with water and fertilizer,

The key to quench insatiable thirst; was to consume a glass of cool and
revitalizing water,

The key to feel enlightened; was to stare unrelentingly in open space; sleep under the twinkling stars,

The key to becoming learned; was to grasp basic ingredients of mystical life; keeping the ears open to prevailing sounds,

The key to overcoming gruesome blackness; was illuminating the atmosphere with dazzling light,

The key to swim through choppy currents of the swirling ocean; was dexterous movements of the hands and feet; compounded with exorbitant stamina,

The key to sketch the intricate silhouette of landscape; was articulate fingers; adroitly molding the bristles of paintbrush,

The key to annihilating the venom in a snake; is ruthlessly snapping off its fangs,

The key to pelting showers of torrential rain; was an agglomerate of sinister black clouds,

The key to procuring salubrious white eggs; was to rear a robust hen,

The key to controlling haphazard flow of traffic; was to scrupulously regulate the timing of signals,

The key to produce mesmerizing tunes; was to tickle the vocal chords deep down the throat; float wholesomely in a world of surreal fantasy,
The key to dancing traditionally; was to generate nimble strokes of the feet; gyrating to the cadence of sound,

The key to an immaculately sparkling complexion; was diligently consuming fresh fruits from the farm,

The key to cleanliness; was incorporating stringently in all; a sense of hygiene,

The key to combat vandalism; was to reinforce vacant arenas with formidable security,

The key to blissful relaxation; was easing cumbersome tensions from the brain; reinvigorating it with perfume,

The key to stay perpetually happy; was to smile; profoundly appreciate the newness of nature,

The key to winning marathon sprints; was exerting the muscles of chest and legs to tumultuous capacity,

The key to unprecedented success in life; is an overwhelming desire to achieve; followed by hard work,

And the key to perennial love; was listening to the inner most tunes of throbbing heart; implementing the same to manifest them into reality.

It was not the unbelievably long road that criminally tired you; the grain of nonchalantly sluggish sand in your dastardly shoe; was the quintessential culprit
instead,

It was not the fathomlessly endless sky that parasitically nonplussed you; the cloud of decrepit isolation in your fecklessly spurious brain; was the cardinal culprit instead,

It was not the limitlessly sweltering desert that disdainfully charred you; the heat of treacherously pulverizing prejudice in your soul; was the dogmatic culprit instead,

It was not the unfathomably towering mountain that entirely gobbled you; the slope of baselessly slavering fear in your bones; was the invidious culprit instead,

It was not the inexhaustible wind of winter that disastrously squelched you; the chill of deathly isolation in every ingredient of your blood; was the irrevocable culprit instead,

It was not brilliantly unending sunshine that tanned and perplexed you; the ray of worthless snobbishness in every of your stride; was the immutable culprit instead,

It was not the boundless swirl of the ocean that preposterously drowned you; the salt of acrimoniously lecherous hatred in the dormitories of your conscience; was
the vituperative culprit instead,

It was not the unceasing graveyard that venomously jinxed you; the ghost of balderdash fear in your fretfully quavering persona; was the untamed culprit
instead,

It was not inexhaustibly overwhelming midnight that insidiously frightened you; the blackness of uxoriously insane insecurity infront of your eyes; was the massacring culprit instead,

It was not continuously barren land that ludicrously withered you; the infertility of holistic expression enshrouding your countenance; was the intransigent culprit instead,

It was not relentlessly vociferous storms that derogatorily uprooted you; the cataclysmically uncontrollable spirit of betrayal in your reflection; was the clandestine culprit instead,

It was not the jet black fleet of cats that unstoppably cursed you; the meow-meow of sleazy superstition in every aspect of your existence; was the incarcerating culprit instead,

It was not the unsurpassably arcane forest that defeated you; the wilderness of salaciously cannibalistic desire in your imagination; was the diabolical culprit instead,

It was not the stupendously tall lavatory seat that shooed you; the stink of maniacally decrepit politics in each globule of your unceremonious sweat; was the barbarous culprit instead,

It was not the indefatigably revolving ceiling fan which unsparingly excoriated you; the blades of depravingly sadistic chauvinism in the center of your chest; were
the murderous culprit instead,

It was not tirelessly diffusing sound that decimated you; the noise of deliriously obsessive idiosyncrasy radiating from every element of your conscience; was
the notorious culprit instead,

It was not inexorably patriotic war that swiped you; the battlefield of hedonistically decrepit corruption on which you stupidly transgressed; was the surreptitious culprit instead,

It was not timelessly unfurling life which crippled you; the breath of untruthfully tyrannical deceit emanating from your beleaguered nostrils; was the cowardly culprit,

And it was not fathomlessly never-ending love that lethally melted you; the beat of maliciously profane betrayal lingering in your vindictively bellicose heart; was the irretrievable culprit instead.

The instrument indispensable to stay happy was to stay contented,
The instrument indispensable to feel warm; was to consume a pitcher full of sizzling tea,
The instrument indispensable to unrelentingly fight like a true stalwart; was courage blended with lots of brawn,
The instrument indispensable to swim in the choppy waves of ocean; was dexterous swirling of the hands and feet,
The instrument indispensable to produce ravishing fragrance; was the ornately embellished crimson rose,
The instrument indispensable to uninhibitedly laugh; was to be tickled voraciously in the intricate ribs,
The instrument indispensable to quench thirst; was crystalline sacs of mountain water,
The instrument indispensable to decode accurate time; was a compactly studded wrist watch,
The instrument indispensable to run a computer; was a plethora of coherent microchips,
The instrument indispensable to run marathon distance at swashbuckling speeds; was the tenacity of the leg,
The instrument indispensable to fly a kite at astronomical heights in the sky; was a pliable and slender string,
The instrument indispensable to fumigate infection and gloom from distant corners of the globe; was dazzling rays of Sunshine,
The instrument indispensable to hysterically sob; was the salinity in the eyes juxtaposed with tribulation,
The instrument indispensable to inundate blank canvas with rustic streaks of color; was a articulately sculptured paint brush,
The instrument indispensable to produce loads of salubrious milk; was the mother cow,
The instrument indispensable to inculcate overwhelming strength in the body; was to perseveringly work and consume food,
The instrument indispensable to produce fiery sensations in the palms; was
to vigorously knead them,
The instrument indispensable to feel miserably cold; was to stand on the summit of the mountain bereft of any clothes,
The instrument indispensable to produce itching in the scalp; was abhorrent dandruff,
The instrument indispensable to produce blazing fires; was a wildly strewn pile of baked twigs,
The instrument indispensable to produce torrential rain; was a conglomerate of black thunder clouds,
The instrument indispensable to illuminate a cloistered room; was waves of white electricity,
The instrument indispensable to produce fetid smell; was a mountain of orphan sewage,
The instrument indispensable to produce mesmerizing tunes; was the eloquent and mystical nightingale,
The instrument indispensable to produce pools of ghastly blood; was the nefarious nozzle of the automatic gun,
The instrument indispensable to provoke violence; was discriminating illusions of religion,
The instrument indispensable to produce sleep; was feeling exorbitantly exhausted,
And the instrument indispensable to live; was incessantly love; and incorporate the same in the hearts of the commoner.

I thought of swimming in the sparkling waters of the lake,
the inner voice of mind held me back saying,
deathly green waters will suck you deep within the point of no return.

i mused on skiing down the ice clad mountain,
the inner voice of mind refrained me from doing so,
as mighty avalanches of snow would strangulate me,
burying me a few feet beneath the frozen coat of spring water.

i pondered on penning a few lines of composition,
the inner voice of mind made strong inroads of denial,
saying that the carbon ink was sure to leak,
creating embarrassed smudges on the flawless sheet of paper.

i speculated on investing in the stock market,
the inner voice of mind guffawed in pools of laughter,
admonishing me from proceeding forward,
as the entire index would collapse within seconds of my investment.

i visualized gulping large barrels of tropical coconut water,
the inner voice of mind stringently halted my stream of fantasy thought,
reinforcing my mind with obnoxious visions of the water containing traces of snake poison.

i perceived of spending my life with the person who loved me,
as usual the inner voice of mind prompted me to alter my course of action,
acquainting me of the dire consequences likely to follow,
this time though beats of my heart were stronger than tunes of mind,
facilitating me to work antagonistic to the mind,
execute a perception into pragmatic reality,
despite the precarious influence of inner voice of mind.

White skin folds hanging loosely,
curved tusks of ivory jutting from skull,
large ear flaps providing drafts of air,
scaring away hoards of flies,
big eyeballs shining in car light,
nasal apertures covered with secreted slime,
long tail attached to a fringe of hair,
projecting from recesses of fleshy hind-side,
hunched back resulting in slow walking pace,
black hooves stuck to leg cartilage,
working incessantly in undulating hot soil,
absorbing crisp rays of midday sun,
with metal liners fixed to its leg,
irrespective of age, time, health,
giving liters of milk in a single day,
squeezed out deftly from suspended teats,
living on mere grass, a pure herbivorous disposition,
sometimes sighted consuming sewage and paper,
eaten as tasty beef meat in some nations,
considered as sacrosanct on Indian soil,
given the status of milk yielding mother,
grazing quietly on grasslands of fertility,
with occasional baths in monsoon rain-ponds,
the Indian cow sure commands loads of respect.

When I study the softness and true intimacy of the air,
It encapsulates my mind with an altruistic blare.
The velvety touch, the shadowy grace,
Have evaporated fully without a trace.
The hot and blistering breeze,
Has made the cool atmosphere cease.
The salty scent of air near the volatile sea,
Has always satisfied hordes of humming bee,
And filled innocent minds of school children with lots of glee.
The ravenous smell of the sweet blue air,
Has made man go near it,
For he has in his mind a plethora of thoughts; but no fear,
And as the scorching Sun filters through the sky,
The arid air mass cries aloud,
To get the sympathy of thin wisps of invisible clouds.

The ideal height is the one; that can stand tall and domineering in a crowd bustling with infinite number of unruly pedestrians,

The ideal weight is the one; that can facilitate a person to sprint like a panther; even in the most obsolete of his dreams,

The ideal skin is the one; which can bear the brunt of sweltering Sun; as well as be unflinching in the winds of freezing winter,

The ideal feet are ones; which assist the wanderer to step even on smoldering fires,

The ideal eyes are the ones; which emanate a glimmer to live; even when tightly closed,

The ideal hand is the one; that defends you singlehandedly; imparting you with the tenacity to lead life; even when confronted with a battalion of thorns,

The ideal tongue is the one; that oscillates to produce voice; silences its critics as and when required,

The ideal stomach is the one; which scrupulously digests food; keeps itself well in proportion; to stand good stead in front of the acerbic society,

The ideal cheeks are the ones; which blush sporadically; adding tinges of robust vibrancy to the otherwise pallid atmosphere,

The ideal thumb is the one; which punches the air in triumph to announce irrevocable victory,

The ideal armpits are the ones; which remain submerged in silver perspiration; after performing an arduous days work,

The ideal shirt is the one; which scintillates impeccably; even after passing through the dust storm,

The ideal tooth is the one; that chews indefatigably; till the last bud of taste is appeased and satisfied,

The ideal hair is the one; which cascades down in splendid harmony; shimmering majestically under the moon,

The ideal nail is the one; that scratches like a wild cat; embedding the attackers flesh with numerous numbers vicious wounds; in order to survive,

The ideal walk is the one; which perpetuates the head to be always held high,

The ideal prayer is the one; which asks God to bestow upon his masses the virtue of brotherhood and equality,

The ideal religion is the one; which since years unprecedented has always respected humanity,

The ideal philosophy is the one; which allows to live and to blissfully let live,

The ideal pleasure is the one; which spreads a smile to the faces of all those afflicted and in bizarre pain,

The ideal sacrifice is the one; in which you abdicate breath for the sake of million different souls to be born,

The ideal love is the one; in which one is prepared to die for the other,

The ideal breath is the one; which evolves passionate moisture in the air after caressing it,

And the ideal heart is the one; which never ceases to beat; throbs violently; each time when given doses of love.

He felt as if the solid roof of his house would abruptly collapse,
Burying him beneath a conglomerate of cement and bare brick.

He felt as if someone was following him in the darkened ambience of the night,
Would stab him with unrelenting strokes of switchblade knife.

He felt as if he would drown in shallow waters of the pool,
If he ever ventured to take a plunge and swim.

He felt as if there were wailing monsters descending from the sky,
Ready to rip apart precious chunks from his anatomy.

He felt as if the food he ate had traces of lethal venom,
Vomited his bowels clean prior to gulping even a morsel of food.

He felt as if the glass would shatter into infinite splinters,
The moment he caressed it with silken smooth fingers.

He felt he was brutally contaminated and impious,
The instant he touched the silver door knob obscured by minute linings of dust powder.

He felt as if human blood would trickle instead of mineral water,
If he stood under the protuberant nozzles of the bathroom shower.

He felt as if brittle tip of the pen would break,
Gallons of ink flow rampantly; the second he flexed his fingers to scribble.

He felt as if the liquid he consumed would strangulate his throat vein,
Suffocating intricate pipes leading to his brain.

He felt as if the soil would sink him in its colossal lap,
If he dared stepping on barren pinches of clay mud.

He felt as if a cluster of scorpion would pop out from his mouth,
The instant he hoisted his jaw to speak.

He felt sick; encompassed with intimidating bouts of fever; when his body felt a trifle warm after basking in sunlit rays.

He knew he was dying a ghastly death every unleashing minute of life,
Confronted with ludicrous ridicule from the society,
There were several of his kind spending their entire lives in cloistered rebuke,
With every filtering beam of dawn looming large as shivering night,
C’mon friends lets do the best we possibly can to help the hypochondriac.