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Live to Light Up

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  A Few Words It’s an uncanny world . The more we do care for the others, the more care they will desire. This goes on. We try to meet the expectations. However, one very day, we might find out the saturation point when we must, when we ought to be dawned. Nothing remains the same. The turning tables bring weal and woe . As soon as we understand it, the better we can be able to enjoy our life. Yes, this world is uncanny to the utmost. Hence, we should never think of any reciprocation. Instead, we all must keep it in mind that we came here alone; likewise, we all must live on our own; finally, we all will have to step out of this world without anybody’s care as well. However, the essential point is that if you try to help a person or care for him or her, never think to be reciprocated, because this world is full of darkness in spite of the day-lamp in the sky, and the moon and the stars at night. Hence, we can illuminate our own world with our tireless efforts to make the world ...
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The Crushing Crash

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  I got crashed; I became crashed; There must be some reason; I endured when I was lashed; Still, all slandered me of treason .   I get flown by the Pilot, Who, too, succumbed with me; Tooth and nail he had fought, But who won was destiny .   It’s a world that’s too strange, Of course, in the negative way; Slaughter is beyond my range; I can’t even think of it any day.   Sometimes, I become free, Free to have a vivid voice; None can escape from destiny That snatches our each rejoice.   None ever thank me for my aid, When they approach their destination; In dire disgrace I am laid; Well, there’s no procrastination.   I lost my all; I lost my life; I failed to land on London ; Humanity’s too full of strife; All, all become too undone.   How could I save them all? I, too, had to die in the crash; I took off; then I did fall; Then occurred the brutal lash.   It’s too easy to blame o...
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In the Age of Sophistication

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The poem – “In the Age of Sophistication”   O, free me up, free me up – I can no more stay fettered; With the cute avian club , I want the chains to get battered.   Poetry, my only means of communication, Gifts me love and liberty; Society’s full of every instigation; Satan tries to confine me.   The most pathetic music Does sound the most melodious; This life, though tragic, Gifts me my pain, familiar and joyous.   Love comes more naturally than Hate To each one of us, humankind; Why then do we sophisticate Our life that turns us blind?   Don’t you smile in joy? Don’t you weep in pain? Why then hide, my boy? Why do people call us insane?   To bring the true feeling and Act accordingly is sheer honesty; Why do we then reprimand? Why do we lose our modesty?   We belittle people; But why? Why? Why? Does that rumour ripple Our hearts with joy, Or do we have to sigh?   Can sad...
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