Conniving Holiness

For when everything seemed to fade away, I held her hand.

It was a convoluted black hole, that was to engulf the very light out of the world.

So we sat perched atop a rock from where we could see the world decay .

We were overwhelmed with joy and desolation.

Joy, for even God failed to tear us apart.

Desolation, for even we couldn’t avert God’s wrath.

I couldn’t take my gaze off her. So blind in love was I.

The only egress, was the pit where the black hole converged .

We were untouched by the devil.

We stared into the sky, which was soon to follow suit into corrosion.

Its beauty was incomparable to her smile, beauty unmatched.

For  when I closed my eyes, I could see only her face.

My love was cinematic, but my lover was not.

She was mute to the extent of adulation.

We breathed our breaths, and our gaze fixed.

My thoughts and emotions rapid, in a flurry.

And I looked at the darkness clouding our little world.

The black hole robbed me of the round planet I once dwelled in.

And as I seemed to realize I was on the moon, the very hand that forced my existence, let go.

I could never forgive the black hole after all.

I dove in too, to reunite with her amidst a sea of tranquility with objects co-expiring with each other.

For even God failed to tear us apart.

The Road

The road is a friend of mine.

It runs with me in my solitude.

It lies beneath me, when I have nowhere to lie, enveloping me in it's embrace.

My road is endless, it carries me away from a despicable human race.

My road leads to heaven, where I'm blissful in my solitude.

Where time has no dimension,where space is infinite.

Where indebted kindness is requited.

Where true love is truly gratified.

And just when I thought the road drifted offshore,

It meandered, like a tributary, into a detour.

On Airplanes

The tramp looked up at the sky,

Dreaming of the clouds, hoping to fly.

Right then he noticed a shooting star,

With a blinking tail, like God’s own car.

He began to follow God’s promise

With an epiphany, he felt destiny’s kiss.

A delirium tremens he entered, pranced with the sun,

His ears bellowed with heavenly surges, all was said and done.

Never had the mighty clouds, been so easily ushered and caressed to exhibit a perfect pattern,

Never before had the mountains, insurmountable, that only people had dreamt to scale, glistened before the sun like a lantern.

A view so delirious, could only be so cinematic, he wondered,

An intercourse of the sky’s horizon and the city lights was resplendent, he concurred.

And just when it seemed he would never be the same again,

His dream ended, and landed, God’s gift to mankind , the airplane.

It is  never too late to dream, to scrape the skies for glory, to be an airplane. Wait not for shooting stars.

Rest In Peace

The gong sounds, the lights fade.

Darkness beckons, joys evade.

All hope of convalescence is dying,

Heaven smiles while the earth is crying.

For what becomes of a soul so powerful and adept,

That even God, is petrified, derelict and inept.

Into the abyss that engulfs every living soul,

That has no language, no dialect, no creole.

There isn’t a shadow of guilt, no dwindling remorse,

For even the mighty are betrothed to death ,even the Romans and the Norse.

We can be svelte in solitude, and as firm as a boulder,

For in times of despair, each one needs a warm shoulder.

As death condescends on a life of joys and glees,

I only pray my love, may your soul rest in peace.

Dedicated to my grandfather who passed away last year.

On Significance

Everything statistically significant needn’t be significantly correct,

We are told repeatedly, what we know, we realize in retrospect.

Our world lies in an array of disarray, of significant lies.

And we, bound significantly in our web of doom, fail to realize,

We may be allergic to the counterfeit, significantly articulate,

But however tough we may seem, we are significantly delicate.

Our significant existence may seem insignificant to the masses.

But it does make a significant statistic to other backward classes.

We interpret as we are made to see, significantly gullible,

We interpret our decay, as we see it, significantly tenable.

Our education seems significantly poised in shreds of insecurity,

That we may see tomorrow, it is significant question of ambiguity.

We elude the man behind the mask, significantly hidden,

That we may don that mask soon, is a significant fate ill-ridden.

The voice of the people, the march of a nation towards significance,

Seems lost between our aspiration, our significant pledge to eminence.

River Of January

I had to inscribe this hymn of perpetuity,

To mirror the epitome of all eternity.

There is a river that meanders relentlessly, along the highlands,

Sprouting and prancing to the tunes of the marching kilted bands.

The River Of January, flowing for one month in the year,

Giving hope to faith, love to hate, valour to fear.

However, this ecstasy and zest is transitory,

The rest of the months, the earth spins into ignominy.

Sitting pretty at eighteen thinking what it'd be at eighty. 
It's easy to crave success,
The only phase in life you wish never had recess, 
This delirium tremens blows in the quivering air, 
Seems like the sporadic wind that blows in and out , once in a while, revitalising every aspiration and ambition with it's divine surge.
The moonlight is again a distant dream, Makes me wonder will I admonish the same once I'm eighty.
There is no epitomy for success, because need and want are like step- brothers. They share the same blood, and yet are biological enemies. 
The truth is never hidden, all of us constitute it. 
If there is ever a paucity of truth seekers , it is only because most of us breed in contempt.
Desiring success is always an easy choice.
Delivering potential is easier, except when we deliberately step on quicksand in our ignominy. 
There is no end to desire, the human race is placed on an eternal quagmire.
If I feel I can conclude with this segment, it'd be wrong and unjust, because for anyone to continue sitting pretty till eighty, there's still time. 
You're never too late, time is with you.
Destiny is never final until you're there.
Nirvana is unsatisfactory .

Unending thirst

I walk a mile a day to see,

The mile has become shorter.

I fail to find the missing key,

I’ve become a living mortar.

I wake up an hour earlier now,

Trying to put an end to my misery.

I don’t understand how,

I ever will be free.

I changed my taste of music,

Trying to strike a new beat.

On second thoughts, I’m feeling sick,

Maybe I should accomplish another feat.

I take a thousand lives away to bring a thousand souls alive

My curse is not forgotten, it weighs me in.

I see beyond the horizon, an ocean for me to dive,

It is the pool of death, there’s no way I can win.

The wind would often ruffle past with loud whispers in my ear,

Now it seems to slither away, in and out of my trail.

The birds now chirp louder to my dissension, to let me know they’re there.

The snow is far from sight, all I see is hail.

~~~~

My vital signs seem great today,

And so does the dew on the grass.

An epiphany inside sees a glittering ray,

I know I can’t let this pass.

The wind swings to my wishful whim,

My feet press with comfort on the ground beneath.

My resolution is firm, confidence to the brim,

Finally, I feel it is safe to breathe.

I can now live a thousand lives,

With the blessing of immortality.

I seek to spread the joy it derives,

Trying to bring hope in calamity.

Frowns unfold into smiles as I walk past,

The valley is no longer dark and vile.

I hoist in the sky, the flag of a cloudy mast,

I’m at home and yet in exile.

I’ve quenched my unending thirst,

To see heaven on earth, descending.

I’m sure I haven’t seen it first,

My thirst is still unending.

Will you smell like a bunch of roses?

Will you smell like a bunch of roses?, Whatever my favourite flowers were, I seem to forget. All this, when my nose is blocked and don’t wish to use my olfactory receptors?

Or will you sleep like the mellow sunflower, waiting for another day to descend upon it , erasing the light of yesterday?

Will you be the never ending melody of a clarinet, waged in triumph of love over evil, of hope in despair, of laughter in pain, of joy in loss, and so that two souls may unite?

Or will you be buried so deep in melancholic suicide that even the deepest of excavations fail in tracing the symphony that once became the sound of music?

Will you be the broad daylight I wish to receive, every time the heavens flash into my eyes?

Or will you glisten only in solitude, when I’m not there, and so aren’t you?

Will you ever be the reason that I breathe into the skies, float on fresh grass, the dew kisses my lips, and the froth of the seas is effervescent and sprays its foam on my desiccated face?

Or will you be my sole reason of contempt, my mission of malevolence, and the cause I despise everything nature and society has to offer.

Read from the beginning and alternate between stanzas and you will see life is beautiful.

Read from the second stanza and alternate likewise and you will see how pathetic you’ve made life for yourself.

May you never read the second stanza. Never begin with Or.