Life = Death - volume 3 - Poems on Life , Death Read online

  Ordinarily the housewife would have thrown the pack of nondescript candles with utter contempt as it occupied unnecessary space in her kitchen; replacing it with an

  array of shimmering silver chains and robust cherries,

  But today she incessantly prayed to God for the same; wildly groped through the interiors of the dwelling for that inconspicuous and condensed bundle of wax; as

  the vast town was abruptly engulfed with perpetual darkness; the stringent beams of brilliant electricity that were once the pride of her house had snapped off without prior notice.

  Ordinarily the diminutive chick would never have learnt to fly; feeling invincibly secure under the compassionate warmth of her mothers belly,

  But today it soared up high and handsome in the air; kissing the cocoon of clouds as it whistled by; as its mother hadn't returned till late evening; and the pangs of hunger in its stomach were far more effusive than its fear to shut its eyes and hide.

  Ordinarily I would have dismissed the idea of going 9 to 9 in the office with sheer contempt and malicious abuse; drowned in the aisles of poetic fantasy and tantalizing desire; penning down infinite lines of poetry sitting as a recluse in the corridors of my

  cozy home,

  But today I found myself smiling pretentiously in front of my employer; obeying even the most infinitesimal of his command; with my head sunk under a mountain of bulky paper and chequebook; as the kicks of the sardonic society and the paucity of funds through the words I evolved; had driven me out of my rosy dreamland to bear the brunt of monotonous Business.

  And ordinarily Man wouldn't have done anything on this earth; would have grown older just staring at the moon; if God had given him everything on a platter; satisfied his every need the instant he uttered them as a faint whisper,

  But today he was seen running in all quarters of the globe; sweating and toiling under the acerbic rays of the Sun; onerously studying under the horrendously dim light of the night bulb; conquering astronomical peaks with the ingenious thoughts circulating in his brain; as his necessity to exist was his only mother of beginning; infact the only thing that could have metamorphosed him from a sleeping saint into one who

  meditated continuously.

  35. DRINKING MY OWN ANGER?

  ?

  I couldn't hit the earth? in my bouts of anger; as it was the one which grew the food necessary for my survival,

  I couldn't hit the wall in my bouts of anger; as it was the one which sequestered my scalp against tumultuous storm and rain; it was the one which constituted and fortified my dwelling,

  I couldn't hit the tree in my bouts of anger; as it was laden with the fruits I nibbled in my times of relish; imparted me with velvety breeze in the sweltering night,

  I couldn't hit the mirror in my bouts of anger; as it magnificently portrayed to me my pellucid and candid reflection; and doing so I knew would exacerbate the situation further; would make my own hand bleed,

  I couldn't hit mothers stomach in my bouts of anger; for it was the singular pouch which had bore me for 9 months unrelentingly; the very sacred sac which was responsible for my existence today,

  I couldn't hit the snake in my bouts of anger; for it guarded my treasury of wealth unflinchingly all night and day; and would viciously retort back the instant I raised my fingers to strike,

  I couldn't hit the Sun in my bouts of anger; for it was the sole source of light which maneuvered me in the day; lit up my every morning with an enchanting smile,

  I couldn't hit the child in my bouts of anger; for it was all the energy I possessed; was the sweetest little form of God running gleefully on this earth,

  I couldn't hit the waters in my bouts of anger; for they were the ones who pacified my thirst several times a day; blended my life with loads of mesmerizing cool and shade,

  I couldn't hit the silver plate in my bouts of anger; for it was the one in which I actually consumed my food three times in a day; and insulting it could probably result in not getting food even three times a year,

  I couldn't hit the car in my bouts of anger; for it was the one which transported me marathon distances; saw to it that I my feet rested in luxury; as I reached the summit at whirlwind speeds,

  I couldn't hit my beloved in my bouts of anger; as she was the one who transpired me to live every second; she was the one who took upon herself every affliction to save me from the tiniest of wound today,

  I couldn't hit my sister in my bouts of anger; as she was the one whom I played with irrespective of my augmenting age; with whom I shared all my secrets of life; sometimes woke her even in the middle of the night,

  I couldn't hit my pet dog in my bouts of anger; as he was the one who was the first to welcome me at ethereal dawn; wag his tail incessantly until the time I took him in my arms,

 

  I couldn't hit my eye in my bouts of anger; for it was the only instrument whom I relied upon to sight this world; and also it would incorrigibly shut tight; as I tried and approached it with my fist,

  I couldn't hit the century old boat in my bouts of anger; as it was the one on which my ancestors sailed; the one where my rudimentary roots lay profoundly embedded,

  I couldn't hit the cow in my bouts of anger; as it was the only animal which gave me sacrosanct milk; impregnated my bones with Herculean strength to take on the mantle of this entire world,

  I couldn't hit the idol of God in my bouts of anger; as it was the one who had evolved me and my kin in the first place; would burn me to inconspicuous ash the moment I irritably hurled my fingers towards his Omnipotent form,

  And I couldn't hit a single thing on this earth; for whatever I hit was something sacred or something which was intimately dear; something which I possessed or

  something which had possessed me for infinite years,

  That's when I decided to wholesomely drink my own anger; whenever I was infuriated and my body reverberated beyond the point of no control; rather

  than unnecessarily victimizing somebody, taking it out on the innocent world.

  ?

  ?

  36. EVERY WRITERS BOSS?

  ?

  Every mouse's boss was the tawny cat; ready to pounce upon its diminutive demeanor each instant; pulverize it to mincemeat with its knife like jaws,

  Every river's boss was the colossal ocean; ready to gobble its inconspicuous visage in the gargantuan swirl of its turbulent waves,

  Every stone's boss was the lanky mountain; overshadowing its frigid body with its towering shadow; the avalanche of ice descending gathering unprecedented speed it sped down the slope,

  Every egg's boss was the enchanting bird; flooding the dreary ambience in vicinity with the mystical tunes that emanated from its beak,

  Every infant's boss was its caring mother; who sequestered it from the most non-existent of evil; ensured that it slept while she incessantly stroked its scalp,

  Every insect's boss was the disdainfully grizzly lizard; viciously swishing its slender tongue; anticipating them to tantalizingly creep directly into its greedy mouth,

  Every web's boss was the silver spider; having the supreme power of dismantling and weaving it all over again; whenever she desired it,

  Every ornament's boss was the majestically hooded serpent; hideously hissing sitting over the same; judiciously observing that it refrained to fall into diabolical hands,

  Every soil's boss was the indefatigably pelting globules of rain; which inundated its surface with incredulous fertility; conjuring it to blossom into a voluptuous array of fruit and scarlet rose,

  Every blank paper's boss was the feather tipped pen; possessing the royal prowess of embossing its barren surface with boundless lines of oligarchic literature,

  Every car's boss was its twin pair of brakes; enabling it and imparting it with bountiful resilience to stop and boisterously speed whenever it liked,

  Every night's boss was the stringently blazing day; illuminating and metamorphosing its gloomy atmosphere into one with radiant
light and fiery rays,

  Every star's boss was the resplendent moon; wholesomely trespassing its inconspicuous body with the unfathomable tenacity in its shine,

  Every snake's boss was the long toothed mongoose; furtively capsizing it by the slippery neck; making it eventually surrender as it sucked the last drop of blood from its body,

  Every tadpole's boss was the preposterously huge whale; eating it at regular intervals in countless clusters; yet not able to fully appease its incomprehensible hunger,

  Every wind's boss was the tumultuous storm; sweeping across like thunderbolts of lightening in the world; swallowing every draught of placid breeze that meekly confronted it in its path; and not even wasting time to burp in relishing its robust meal,

  Every ghost's boss was the invincibly closed corpse; ensuring that it stayed secured tight within; didn't get even the remotest chance to escape and spread terror on this globe,

  Every land's boss was the unending sky; providing a roof to shelter it; proving it a respectable entity to hold its head high,

  Every man's boss was the Omniscient Creator; commanding him every second to satisfy the mission which he taken birth on this earth for,

  And every writer's boss was his flamboyant fantasy; his spell binding perceptions that unrelentingly dictated him to keep writing every instant of the chilly night; and all throughout the sunny day.

 

  50. BIG THUMB?

  ?

  When I held it dead straight and candidly in free space; people thought I was being overwhelmingly rude and cheeky,

  When I sucked it passionately in my mouth; people thought I was just an innocuously overgrown child; unfit to exist in monotonous society,

  When I curled it stubbornly to form a fist; people thought I was in an invidiously wild mood to punch and fight,

  When I slanted it a trifle towards the left or right; people thought I wanted a

  brazen and speedy lift,

  When I pressed it ardently on scintillating white paper after dipping it in sapphire pools of ink; people thought that I was illiterate; didn't even know how to prudently sign,

  When I raised it above my shoulders for incessant lengths of time; people thought that I gruesomely stranded; wanted to abscond to more blissful places than the eerie mist surrounding me,

  When I folded it pathetically into boundless knots; people thought that I was disdainfully maim; endeavoring my best against crippled time,

  When I tapped it relentlessly on the desk; people thought that I was peevishly irritated; desired to be left in immortal peace and all alone,

  When I rubbed it voraciously across my armory of teeth; people thought I had dropped freshly from the rustic village; wasn't acquainted the slightest to contemporary toothbrush and stringent paste,

  When I hoisted it vivaciously towards my friends in times of perilous examinations; people thought that I was wishing my comrades all the very best,

  When I probed it forward to sprinkle crimson vermilion in the hair of my beloved; people thought I had tied the nuptial thread; bonded myself into the swirl of sacred marriage,

  When I ominously hurled in sedate atmosphere; people thought I had intentions of breaking somebody's nose; waded back in petrified terror,

  When I obnoxiously pointed it downwards towards Black mud; people thought I was in a mood to contemptuously insult; ridicule sagacious entities to inconspicuous

  dust,

  When I caressed it on colossal slabs of white ice; people thought that I trying to generate tremors of inexplicable excitement in my languidly dreary persona,

  When I whole heartedly offered it to kids to play; people thought that I was extremely philanthropic; had this insatiable desire to help human kind,

  When I twisted it fervently to capsize the pen; people thought that I was in an uninhibited spree to write,

  When I engulfed it wholesomely with colored gloves; people thought that I was involved in heinous crimes; was trying to surreptitiously sequester my trail of vulnerable fingerprints,

  When I feverishly bit it umpteenth number of times in the day; people thought that I was encapsulated with incomprehensible anxiety; was waiting for precarious time to rapidly unveil,

  When I held it intractably against my lips; people thought I was trying to intimidate them into brutalized silence,

  When I amicably waved it towards the chair; people thought that I instructing them to congenially sit and relish in fantasy,

  O! My God; although it was just a short stub of fat flesh protruding from my palms; my big thumb was really something to ponder about; my big thumb was

  incredulously astounding.

  The End .