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Utopian fantacies


There was a girl,
Full of innocense,
believed her dreams.

A warrior prince, she was hoping for;
Who fights her miseries;
Takes her far:
In a world of peace, love and joy,

There was a fire, sudden at night.
Her room was locked,
Her parents cried, help!

Yet that girl, sat and smiled.
She waited, doing nothing.
When the door opened,
She was bemoaned.

Sitting by the window,
Waiting for that prince.
Closing the door,
Not crying anymore!

What a dark imagination she had!
Once what made her happy,
Today, killed her crappy.

What a believe, fated to ashes!

A utopian fantasy!
I declare!

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Lessen you’ thinketh

The more you think, the worse.

As thoughts are contradictory, self and others.

Uncombined twisted meaning of conventional wisdom.

Paradoxical events binds together, in an event of cognitive dissonance.

Has been less complicated in approach; Plato has not been melted into simplicity.

Greek philosophers to Indian ancient hymns: Large canonical texts, looks impressed.

Wonder it’s been, to decode:

Thoughts, it’s origin, processed, divided.

To me, to others and to this overlapping structure of society.

This ‘thought’, has robes to change.

Rightly been said:

The less you think, the better.

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Crown

Mesmerized:

by the precious gems, and jingles;
of my crown.

Many of you, raised brows and frowned.

You might be:

counting the stars of my sky, shining, much above; your ever did.

Agony of non- fulfilment might have caused:

you, bemoaning of theft.

And,
Less adamant you might be,
knowing:

Thorns in my crown

Those sleepless night, of countless efforts;
I made.

Eyes swollen, hand shivering;
body crying, “rest in need! “.

Dare I avoid!

Those Bating down.

I made those stars: glittery;
Brushing: time and time.



When you were resting, I at quest.



I choose those jwels from mine of bravest:
With armour of will, passion and writ.

Look the mockery of time,
Yet you question thorns of crown!
I adore it, from the day; I was born.


Blessed was I: to have the God.
To have mercy, to show a path.

Loved I was, it worked out, fruited sweet with dozens light.

But,


Here you go, doubting my sword!

I challange!

Wear your bestest, carry your sharpest;
Hold your shoulder tight!

Fight,
Have these scorns!
If you win,

You can own :

This bleeding crown”.

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My Ex- parents’ house

They say I don’t belong here.
I was daughter ‘their’s’ once.

Of this family, by blood, by love.
I grew up, they married me off!

No longer, situation is same.

“I am married”, ” I am someone else’s “.
“I don’t have the say”, ” I can’t nay! “.

Once ‘my room’, is no more, mine.

This land: I planted tree, I trimmed these grasses, now flowered, with dozen fruits.

This balcony,
I cried,in pain; I danced, in rain.

This dine:
I cooked with love, of love, for the love.

So different things have grown.

I look through window; not come inside.

I am a stranger, a passing by.

This structure of wood and bricks,
People said, ‘house’; I ‘home’.

What should I plate it now:
“My ‘ex’ parents house”.

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H’man

Somewhere in hell…
“Rise!the demon of desires and flame”; “that destroys the human nature of purity.”
“Oh, thy mighty! Dost thou know, people are following, what you were killed for”;
“No longer, the God of heaven, will blame us.”
Lacked they kindness, long forbidden humanity!
“Ah! They have zeal for hatred”.
They are conspiring against each other, The one loved, is being hated to heart!
Basket of desires, all have on their head!
Hands:not begging, but snatching does.
We no longer need “that snake to envy the eve”, as Adam has lost senses and GOD has decided to keep quiet…

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Dotage

When you grow old, you suddenly become wise.
What seemed important, all now naive.
You want to do many things, all at the same time,
Though patient, you are not patience,
Frequently you have, nightmares and and you have noone on your side.
For all of now you want to hold this time, now, right now and for now.

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Justifying your character

Life is amazing, isn’t it,
It has its own beats and drums.
Neither too straight, nor full of curves;
It’s a combo of both, with unequal amount.
The time when are at the top of sky, somehow we fall to the ground;
And when, we are at the bottom of our verge it’s gives us a sudden kick.
We spend long sleepless nights, just to wonder, what’s happening with us.
And sometimes we ask the astrologists to just predict for us,
But it doesn’t matter, we are never ready to welcome our life as it is.
Predicting is just another way to manipulate the reality, in our own bases.
Human existence along with others have been based on life, yet most of us, sometimes, just decide to quit.
What a wastage of the creator, if any; his time and wine.
Yet, no matter what one applies, this science of life is beyond common sense.
Sometimes it’s about pain and joy; sometimes it’s about mirth and coy.
Aren’t we in love with movies and drama of our favorite actors,

Can we imagine, if the life is same, then it’s a question; are we justifying with character we have got!

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Escape

I, wish to escape; this reality so harsh. Run into a world of peace and solace. Harmony, love blows with the wind. Not a shiver of fake and sin.

Fading miseries, this survival instinct.

Just for once; if I could.

Sit on the sideway bridge, that stands in the middle of town. Clear sky and a garden nearby. Swans and swarms; goats and geese. All around; what a world to choose!

There, my Prince; neatly robed. just as water: clean and pure. My heart races; with smile of his: fast, “millionth of time”. .

A house: that can be Home. Families, friends; all close. Sharing success, losses all. none alone, but all along.

A night, never seen: glittering so beautiful . A calm, breeze caressing my face. Long, comforting lullaby; far from the woods.

Ah! Such lively this life looks: safe, secure and full of hope. Such catching, to my heart, even in dream, I dare not elope.

Wait, what! Why this bustling sound I hear! It shall not be real, I begin to fear.

Oh! My heart! My mind! Begin to tremble . It’s day of eleven, seventh of week.

Something, I may, never escape.

Sometimes, what; I wish to escape.

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A night passing by

Sitting, by the window;
I can see:
Things and places, moving backwards.
There is calmness: of chaos and worry.
Fighting a duet, to win and end,for once, for all.

Few lights are off, few shining more,
In this sound night, what a mystery they behold.


Turned off lights; how nice, peace, and a good night sleep.
Turned on lights; how lively, vibrant and willingness; work more hard.

There are trees who have tale to tell,
Millions of journey who lived and passed by.

Ahead is a temple, closed but decorated,
Might be the God tired, reviving,
After hearing a tonnes of prayer, listed,unlisted.

Night,
A beauty in darkness, many of us holds.
Looking from the window, I whisper my favourite song,
Such is beautiful, this passing night.

I lived and loved,
Nature being natural,
A wide clean sky, with no clouds roaring.
A clear view, my eyes can catch,


Night
A reflection of “what”, “how” and “when”
“Why”,”where” and “who will”;
Questionnaires and answers yet to find, a short, but long,

Dare I not loose this opportunity, shall I not hold it tightly, a night so precious. not may happening at ahead, Who Knows Time

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A day in factory life

Darky, dusty, gloomy chimneys;

Outside painted, inside bleached.

Human agony; tainted brain.

Space congested, polluted drain.

Suffocate, succumb, yet survive.

Need becomes;

Bosses command.

Bonded are few, others can’t refuse;

Starved stomach, as demands.

Forget miseries; “what about life? “

Here one live, not alive.

Here one subsist, not exist.

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