Sometimes I wonder why I am still alive.
Life is too live not to survive.
Surviving every day hoping that another won’t arrive!
Funny people are afraid of death and hope to revive.
I hope that one night I go to bed,
And next day I won’t wake up!
To the fun part if I’m dead,
All my mistakes are finally stocked up.
Ha not making you sad amigo,
Just think what’s the point of living like this ?
Living but not living yet living was living a while ago.
Yeah Existed till a while ago – sigh!
But forgot to notice yet they miss…
How people care all of a sudden when someone die.
Good thing we all get to sleep.
Sleep is a temporary relief,
These days find it hard to sleep by thoughts so deep
Then the thought of sleeping as long as time…
Even If heaven is a belief.
Beauty of the inevitable is just sublime.
Now that I’m asleep.
Imagine if my hope becomes the fate ahead –
My eyes still closed even as the phone alarm beep.
Now all will appreciate my existence since I’m dead.
Conflicts happen more often in the brain
Like when you see a beautiful girl
And your head goes insane.
And later when you realize you aren’t single !
But yet ready to mingle
If only man was perfect
As a rock or a stone or a pearl.
So desire can’t be a defect –
And virtue of any merit
As the former is what you inherit…
Let’s get back to the physical realm,
Back to the beautiful girl
If she’s committed….what mayhem
Superstition says dat all pretty ones are taken,
Ain’t gonna believe anything falsely baken.
But the one you love
She’s the most beautiful girl!
Lucky are the ones blinded by love
Even more beautiful is her who gave you life
And there goes the strife
Lot of things can satisfy your eyes
But not all can satisfy your soul
Beauty to my eyes maybe horrors to your eyes
We are often deceived by beauty
As it’s our eyes beloved deity.
Beauty just a disguise
Hiding the ugly soul
Heart has to pay the price –
If conjured by its magic
such pain is rather tragic.
And moreover boyfriends are such a buzzkill !
Adios beautiful girl !
Been a real thrill.
What’s worse than a thought?
What’s funnier than a thought?
Is poetry dead?
A restless thought plagued his conscience
After dedicating fruitful years of his life,
He hath achieved none but fruitless self pity.
Chasing stardom in the big city
Once he dreamt of a better life
But as he came back to his sense –
Rhyme and verse and lyric are no more preserved
“You’re preaching an outdated art form”
A generous critic remarked.
Rest didn’t even bother
Soon his love for art slowly vanished.
As his dreams perished
He became a little less sober
His thoughts no more cherished;
And left like an unfinished poem.
Stuck in sorrows of home,
For one last time he painted –
The paper with words and letter
And each letter very precisely picked
And thus wrote the last great poet –
My art may or may not be bestowed
My rhyme may or may not be sung
My lyric may or may not be flawed
It will always remain my child
If all haven’t died
And if all haven’t lied
My art now unsung;
Is dormant and not dead
And remain ever present…..