I have engineered the skyscraper of my life, which is still under construction, to gently touch the zenith of my dreams. With my eyes closed, I antecede and my conscience, being the pilot of my destiny, land me on the torrid place with scorching heat rays of the sun frying the skin of oxygen breathers, with cracks in the holy earth speaking the story of its infertility, with the scarcity of water hitting to its epitome, with people praying to their lords to show them the silver lining in the impudent and rapacious dark clouds of their adversity. Amidst all these, my pilot navigates my inner soul on one person who has been trying hard to get at least something valuable from the reign of nothingness. The hope inside him is not dead; it’s breathing and with its each breath being exhaled, it is providing air to the smoldering pyre of the “dead hopes” of various individuals; with a subtle ambition of lightening it into a conflagration. But who’s he ?, I ask myself and then I realize, he i
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THE QUEST My fiendish mind weaves a tale, Anguish of time has prevailed, Earth painted with bloodshed, My eyes gaze dead bodies everywhere, Mutilated by the holocaust, Blinded by the storm of demise, Debris of callousness has infested me, Every puny escape is blocked, My soul, praying for the salvation key, Raking the flesh that I once embraced, Fiasco bullets piercing me constantly, A face so bright, ravishing and holy, Evanescent though, I finally see, Trailing the path, trampling the carcasses, Following the obscure, Would I ever succeed? The apocalypse has blanketed everything now, Look! I don’t even bleed, Lord is great, because my hope still breathes, Am I dead? The thought repeats, Yet the heart of my hopes still beats, Now, making me to flood with glee, I see the face again, And the quest of my salvation proceeds……
THE SILVER LINING.... It was his best of times. The aura had jus transformed, to slip in his favor. Everything he touched became gold and his career figure multiplied, so much so, to chalk out billions of dollars , which kissed his feet, n was everywhere from taking him to deep slumber to giving him a really soothing time in the bathtub, in short, a living exemplar of utter success , was he.. U cannot imagine how life became so beautiful and full of razzmatazz for him, luxury and loyalty, he gained every now n then, and, love!!!!.... How cannot anybody fall in love when he is rich? Women.... a perfect drug, even worse than “the ecstasy" flooded in his life and then, he had a choice to pick one.... she was Lucy.... Lucy and peter Sandler soon got married. Peter could not have been happier, with such haunting n ugly face, he virtually purchased the heartthrob and the priceless inferno of the town ... she was Lucy Peterson.... it is rightly said when u has the money u owe
PIECE OF TRASH yo ! my feel my piece of trash, it was a marsh land, harsh stand, past dance, on my destiny, wich is waverin on a plastic plank, i was brn outta curse, result of a divorce, my parents nevr gave me a fuk n left me in the road, mud claded me, sewage flooded me, the undergrnd lyf , jus shaded me, i was bullyed throughout my life, since my childhood , i was fuked 4 a loaf of bread to my mouth, tears of mine did roll down bt nly to xtinguish my thirst, my emotions wer killed n obsessions wer crushed, my integrity was chopped n thrwn to lit as drugs, hands of mine wer shackled, head was encaptured, heart was beating n confidence fractured, all the doors wer closed without ny gap, a narrow escape, na ! fuker, thers nt wer i shld ve got, i made a resolution , though blinded by destiny i had a solution, people thrashed me , abused on my face, motherfukers! nw strange gonna shw ya al the aftermaths, slept one day jus to open my
There is a bug which is residing inside of me. Immortal and fatal. This malignant bug triggers revulsions which ultimately walk with reality. It acts as a barricade between me and my goal, makes us miles away from each other. The bug becomes a potential threat to me when it gets equipped with the ‘love’ grenade and then, its callousness is beyond any explanation. The aftermath forces me to submerge in the sea of dreams that I usually swim. All my dreams and aspirations, likings and anticipations die with my dying breathe. In my afterlife, I start from the starting line with an instinct to vanquish the cause of my own doom. The cycle repeats and is repeating but with some alterations in its each version. The alterations of alterations by some divine creature is my only hope now otherwise , just like others, I will die and then start to breathe again.