Walk Alone...

Walk Alone

I stand under the sky,
spreading my hands.
The cool breeze kiss me,
cuddle me with its tender hands.
I lay on the wet grass,
my hairs bathing with mud.
My body now wet and soiled,
raindrops descend from the sky,
just to clean me up,
and get me ready,
for the upcoming journey.
I get up and walk up the stairs,
then I see back to see myself,
with my eyes still closed,
lying on the ground,
and resting in peace.
I smile and continue my journey,
to the never ending eternity.
With angels by my side,
I was too happy to see,
the end of my lonely life,
but then suddenly,
the angels fly away,
leaving me behind all alone.
I smile at my fate,
turn back and walk alone,
once more with nobody,
with me on my side...

Just Like That . . . .

Just like that

I want to live,

I want to die,

I want to reach above the sky.

Above the earth,

I want to fly,

Though impossible, I want to try.

I want to jump,

I want to roll,

I want to seperate my body from my soul.

I want to crawl,

I want to run,

I want to shine brighter than sun.

I want to love,

I want to hate,

I want to win and defeat my fate.

I want to die,

and take rebirth,

as a illusion on a seperate earth.

I want pleasure,

I want pain,

I want to run madly in rain.

I want to smile,

I want to frown,

take my bike and hit the town.

I want to stare,

I want to blink,

I want to mind, nothing to think.

I want to scream,

I want to shout,

on a lonely road I want to roam about.

I want to take,

I want to give,

a cheerfull life I want to live.

I want to laugh,

I want to cry,

this poem will make your mind fry.

I had less,

but plenty of time,

So, just like that, I wrote this rhyme . . . .

Live Out Loud . . .

Live Out Loud

Scream or shout,
Just speak out,
Whatever you need to say,
It’s your life, your play.
Think of now and think it fast,
Empty your mind, forget your past,
Don’t dig up that dirt,
The memories that really hurt,
Just think of now,
And plan of how,
To make it interesting,
And be the king.
Man, just cry aloud,
Speak your heart out,
Scream, shout, just go mad,
Give a smile, it’s time to be bad,
World had killed a lot of good,
Try to be good, they surely would,
Dismantle and corrupt you,
So why wait? You should too,
Burn it, raise the heat,
Crush it under your feet,
Do the things you want to do,
No one should force you to,
Step in his shoes,
And make you loose,
Your identity, your name,
Remember, your life your game,
Jump up or roll on mud,
Be mature, don’t be a bud,
Rise up revolt and be free,
Let this barking world see,
What the thing you have been,
A destructor, a war machine,
Kill them or leave them your choice,
Speak up now, raise your voice,
Don’t be quite, just speak,
Let your voice touch the peak,
Let this tough world hear,
That the winner in you is here,
Pick up a gun,
fire it for fun,
its your life, live it your way,
kick the world, let them say,
forget your uncle, forget your aunt,
just do whatever you want,
do everything loud,
let your heart speak aloud,
just speak up what you feel,
rise up and show your zeal,
be different from the crowd,
my friend, just Live Out Loud . . .

Justice Justified . . . .

Justice

For a justice to be justified,

your thoughts have to be simplified.

To make a choice between two obligations,

truth and lies like dancing animations.

When your thoughts fight a lot,

to choose the good or to choose not.

Then pack up your complex mind,

and let your heart then find,

the truth in the truth,

the lie in the raising youth.

Only then you can do the justice,

when the truth you don't miss.

raise your voice and stand for good,

do everything, which you could.

Then the justice will be justified,

you complex mind now, Simplified . . . .

A Poem . . . .

Writing a poem

A poets rhyme that never rhymes,

a guilt rising after a chain of crimes.

A thought in mind lurking about,

a voice in heart craving to come out.

An un-understandable phrase,

that drives in a lot of praise.

A creative play of thoughts,

that can beautify even moon's blots.

An unbound flight of words,

flying high, higher than birds.

Some kind of unnurtured imagination,

its a person's emotional creation.

A voice from inside our soul,

a direction pointing to our goal.

A substitute of facial expression,

a written account of our emotion.

A justified creation of a crazy mind,

rarely born and hard to find.

Some creepy truth that rises fear,

or incomplete love that brings down tear.

An expression of the cries unheard,

a mental speech of a speechless bird.

A weapon with no explosive,

but a great damage which can give,

no bloodshed, just a hallucination,

which can destroy a whole nation.

The most powerful creation of a human,

which can eat up every devil, every demon.

A tool to make a dead speak,

it takes your emotions to a peak,

this is what I say a poem.

That is why I write 'A Poem' . . . .

Downtrodden - A Creation Of Frustration . . . .

Downtrodden

Tell me my dear,

what should I do ? ? ?

Do you think I should,

hit you, thrash you,

crush you, or curse you ? ? ?

just tell me,

what should I do to you ? ? ?

You did all,

what you should not do,

to me, to my heart.

You took away from me,

everything you want.

And left for me nothing,

nothing at all.

you gave me things,

you don't need,

misery, pain and all.

A robber, a thief,

thats what you are.

But you gave me something,

something I had lost,

something I needed,

something I had urge for,

you gave me the rage,

the disasterous anger.

That gave me power,

power to fight you back.

so, I am coming,

to take back my things,

and to give you back,

whatever you gave me.

dipressed, distressed and disgraced,

today I am enraged,

burning hot in fury,

running wild in wrath.

ready to burn you alive,

or just stick a knife,

in you, in your heart.

Grind you or tear you apart,

tell me, just let me know,

a reason, why should I leave you alive ? ? ?

For using me more ? ? ?

Or pissing me off ? ? ?

Tell me what to do to you,

grind you, smash you,

bury you or burn you ? ? ?

or just let you,

to stab me on my back,

or should I go,

climb to a height,

and fall back from there,

and give up blood,

free up my soul,

and end up everything.

Just let me know . . . .

Ashoka - The Warrior Becomes Meek . . .

Emperor Ashoka

"Oh! king of the kings, my emperor"
said the minister witha sign of terror,
"Kalinga still remains uncaptured,
Its still a free perching bird."
"What's the problem, let it be free,
it's a tiny nation why don't you see?"
said the emperor with great wisdom.
then the minister spoke with respect some,
"Your father led a quest,
and tried out his best,
to capture that nation,
and bring it in relation,
but he got badly defeated."
hearing this ashoka's mind beated,
He pulled out his sword,
"I swear in name of good lord,
that filthy nation I wil crush,
pull you weapons, we have to rush.
Wake your army, the elephants, the horses,
and lead a quest, with huge forces,
against that evil dictator,
swear on the name of the creator,
that either we win or else die,
shout this loud, give a cry.
let those enemies know,
and bow their heads low.
Let them shiver with terror,
and se the rise of a warrior,
just put your heart and soul,
to bring that state in our control.
Let's step on those filty insects,
and crush the nation which infects,
our self respect, our prosperity,
just shoe them our cruel hospitality."
Thus spoke the enraged king,
whose rhymes we noe sing.
The great emperor, noble Ashoka,
whose name is capable to invoke,
courage and power to fight,
who had enormously large insight.
His army took up arrows and bows,
and settle themselves in proper rows,
with aroar they set on a war,
with Kalinga, a state to far.
Two powers met over at fields,
and swords tore enemies shieds.
Thousands of soldiers fell down dead,
many laid down without a head.
The city drowned in a flood,
flowed down in river of blood.
many mothers lost their son,
many saw their last sun,
hundreds of soldiers lost their lives,
city saw many mourning wifes.
A decision due to Ashoka's rage,
led a great war to engage,
which resulted in a great destruction,
and thousands of mind sdrowned in frustration.
even after these great massacres,
kalinga didn't call back the attackers,
so the war still didn't end,
more soldiers Ashoka did send.
more blood dropped on the fields,
city saw more broken shields.
At last a head fell down,
and Ashoka picked up the crown,
king of kalinga had fell down dead,
and slept forever on his death bed.
Then the emperor gave a sigh of relief,
after dropping a montain of grief,
on the native, the citizens of kalinga,
who once merrily used to sing,
the energetic songs of life,
and were never afraid of knife,
now shivered at name of war.
And were afraid of going to far,
away from their house their home,
coz the armoured soldiers roam.
They were afraid of getting killed,
this fear in mind Ashoka had build.
Then Ashoke came to examine the city,
seeing its condition he felt pity,
drops of tear fell from his eyes,
everyone saw that a emperor too cries.
mercy now dwelled on his merciless face,
dissatisfied and disillutioned by his kingdom chase,
he knelt down and picked some mud,
his hands stained red, full of blood.
He ordered his men to retreat,
and he fell down on queens feet.
"Oh good lady! I am the one,
who killed your husband, and your son,
I know I can't be forgived for the crime,
the deed I have done, but with passing time,
I will try to make up for what I have done,
this is my promise, I swear of the sun,
If you want to punish me, take this sword,
chop my head, and give it to lord.
I was out of my mind to do such a thing,
but I swear, soon prosperity I will bring,
The great lord Buddha I will preach,
peace, prosperity and serenity I will teach."
hearing this spoke the queen,
"A warrior like you, I have never seen,
an hour ago you had thirst for kingdom,
and now you talk of great wisdom.
I never saw a heart so pure,
no other king ever tries to cure,
the pain and misery they use to bring,
rather they force their peaple to sing,
songs of their greatness and thier name,
which brings them a lot of fake fame.
Ashoka, your name will also rise,
above the clouds, above the skies.
coz kings like you are born very few.
that is why today I forgive you . . ."
After that the warrior became meek,
King Ashoka went away to seek,
teachings from the buddhist sages,
who had been in peace for ages.
Later he returned a just and wise king,
whose name till now we use to sing,
A emperor who preached non-violence,
who in him had a great balance,
of power and wisdom, Ashoka was the king,
for whom today, this rhyme I sing . . .

Beachly Beauty . . . .

Alone on beach

I stand beneath the sky,

my hands open wide,

seeing the gulls flying high,

the beautiful nature by my side.

The salty waves of the sea,

wash away my mortal feet,

algea and moss, down I see,

wet but warm by the solar heat.

Far away from the town,

from those noisy streets,

I sit on the natures crown,

where serenity and peace meets.

stones and stars on the beach sand,

decors my footprints left behind,

I pick them up by my naked hand,

saving those moments in my urban mind.

I see that undernurtured nature,

tortured and pained, for a long time,

to preserve this beauty in literature,

Today I write this rhyme . . . .