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Thousands of Nikhil Parekh's poems on God, Peace, Love, Brotherhood, Friendship, Humanity, Environment, Anti Terror, Lovers, Life, Death - here. Click on Page Numbers below to read complete poems. Each page has 10 poems. 
 
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»The thing I hated the most

 

When I was driving my car through the meandering hills; feasting on the
panoramic view of the mystical valley,
The thing I hated the most was a incessant flurry of dense traffic;
halting
the unprecedented flow of fantasy in my mind.


When I was swimming exuberantly in frothy waves of the ocean; taking
the
sizzling rays of the sun directly on my skin,
The thing I hated the most was the onslaught of inclement weather;
compounded
with swirling waters; which made me return back to the shore.


When I was studying diligently under the gloomy night lamp; pouring
rapidly
through infinite lines of fine script,
The thing I hated the most was pertinent voices of the neighbors; the
discordant cacophony of the ticking clock.


When I was jogging across the sprawling race track; stupendously
relishing the
cool morning breeze striking my eyes,
The thing I hated the most was obnoxious wisps of smoke in the
atmosphere; and
the lace of my shoe getting entangled every now and then.


When I was painting exquisite shapes of the hill on a white canvas;
executing
vivacious strokes with my rustic brush,
The thing I hated the most was blotches of squalid dirt smudging with
the
color; pelting showers of rain prompting me to conceal my work.


When I was fervently viewing my favorite television program; with my
feet well
rested; and a festoon of fried chips lying by my side,
The thing I hated the most was violent fluctuation in voltage; which
caused
the images to ludicrously flicker
In the screen.


When I was consuming a barrel of red wine; slurping the elixir with
animated
sips of satisfaction,
The thing I hated the most was the authorities catching me red handed;
evacuating the alcohol out of me; by beating me black and blue.


When I was playing an intense game of chess; articulately maneuvering
my
pieces through the checkered squares,
The thing I hated the most was illegal moves by my opponent; which
eventually
led him to win the game.


When I was about to commence on an adventurous expedition; accompanied
by
hordes of my class mates,
The thing I hated the most was intermittent bouts of cold and fever;
which
instigated my parents to incorrigibly hold me back.


When I was earnestly praying to the almighty; with my arms crossed;
eyes
focused in tumultuous concentration,
The thing I hated the most was uncouth criminals bombarding the
vicinity;
permeating the sacrosanct ambience with ghastly sounds.


And when I was with my beloved; my face nestling passionately against
her
broad shoulder,
The thing I hated the most was orthodox society hindering our romance;
proving
a deplorable barricade in the path of our immortal love.


(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
 
»The Titanic

 

The sheets had never been slept on,
the china ware glittered like pure gold,
the blankets were of Persian wool,
the tables were built of solid teak,
the paintings were exquisitely sketched,
the brass handles had no smudges,
the mirrors shone in brilliant radiance,
the upholstery was ergonomically plush,
the boiler rooms were a bustle of feverish activity,
the clock tower had silver needles,
the auditorium echoed with catholic rhymes,
the first class chambers were somber sophistication,
the workers room flowed with beer and dance,
the lifts well oiled, carried people graciously,
the dinner room was full of flattery and rich cigar
smoke,
the alarm bells were nailed to plaster,
there was a separate floor for grotesque prison cells,
the mammoth chimneys breathed grey smoke,
the warning check post stood the tallest of all,
the vintage car hung in pride,
the coarse cloth sails cut chilly currents of
Atlantic,
the steel railings formed invincible periphery,
the captains room had maneuvering controls,
skilled manpower managed electric supply,
thousands of human sailed for two days of expedition,
existed in harmony,
in handsomely furnished cubicles,
with no scope for mice and dirt,
the ship was made of unsinkable iron,
a blend of grandeur, and majestic travel,
the strongest sailing monster on water,
creating history in ship hierarchy,
with its hull biting into frozen Atlantic waters,
it was a ship of dreams,
a ship of artistically carved glamour,
with life boats suspended for mere formality,
and winged propellers marching through territories of
water,
they called it the 'TITANIC'




(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
 
»The tree of immortal humanity

 

No religion ever teaches you to abhorrently
discriminate; pulverize the innocuously innocent to
inconspicuous bits of ludicrously frigid ash,

No religion ever teaches you to maliciously murder;
parasitically suck blood from the veins of the
divinely immaculate; in order to appease the goddess
of blissful existence,

No religion ever teaches you to perniciously
prejudice; malevolently castigate inexplicably
deprived tribes; with swords of bizarre commercialism,

No religion ever teaches you to aimlessly loiter;
invidiously plucking impeccable flesh at gay abandon;
whenever the bowels of your languidly famished
intestines; treacherously desired,

No religion ever teaches you to insidiously corrupt;
adulterate the holistically celestial fabric of
innocent society; with webs of meaningless
manipulation,

No religion ever teaches you to heinously snatch;
uncouthly divest symbiotically harmonious beings of;
their daily fodder and indispensably glorious roof,

No religion ever teaches you to ignominiously abuse;
vehemently ostracize the sagaciously sacrosanct ideals
of a person on the path towards irrefutable
righteousness; with the venom of gory lechery
entrapped in your throat,

No religion ever teaches you to ruthlessly excoriate;
barbarically strip the flesh of the timidly
diminutive; to embellish your bodies with
compassionately silken warmth,

No religion ever teaches you to mercilessly
overtopple the penuriously hapless; erect your palaces
of spuriously grandiloquent silver; on the foundations
of their pricelessly poignant blood,

No religion ever teaches you to worthlessly sleep;
ominously whiling every fantastically fragrant minute
of life; staring maniacally towards the fathomless
carpets of non-existent space,

No religion ever teaches you to devastatingly orphan;
acrimoniously separate heavenly infants like cakes of
insipid sawdust; from their Omnipotent mother’s womb,

No religion ever teaches you to tyrannically lambaste;
bombard blissful civilizations in wisps of nonchalant
smoke and disgruntling malice,

No religion ever teaches you to brutally besiege;
savagely capture the most cherished possessions of a
philanthropic traveler; to inundate your own
treasuries; with loads of pompous wealth,

No religion ever teaches you to disparagingly trick;
drown another person to the rock bottom of the
hideously sinister grave; just to achieve your so
called pinnacle of; lackadaisically glittering
success,

No religion ever teaches you to diabolically lie;
unsparingly annihilate your benign compatriots with
daggerheads of sullen depression; just to
metamorphose yourself; into a fortress of invincible
power,

No religion ever teaches you to viciously dream;
indefatigably fantasize about deplorably thrusting
your lust upon angels frolicking in blue sky; pristine
maidens philandering upon; chocolate brown crusts of
soil,

No religion ever teaches you to salaciously betray;
shatter princely hearts all across the Universe; with
perilously gory battlefields of; caste; creed or race,

No religion ever teaches you to oppressively take
breath away; decimate synergistically rhapsodic
entities to corpses of infinitesimal hair; just to
stuff enough air in your lungs to last you for a
countless lifetimes,

And No religion on this earth; ever overshadows
another religion or could be irrefutably termed as the
best; in this man made rat race for insurmountable
power; as they all had; have; and will forever have
their roots firmly embedded; in the TREE OF IMMORTAL
HUMANITY….


©®copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.
 
»The tree of love

 

The apple tree swayed frivolously in the air; bearing crimson crested fruit peeping out from its dense foliage,
However as came freezing winter; its leaves wore a shriveled look; inevitably feeling the chill and sporadically falling to the ground.

The cherry tree looked awe inspiring and magnificent from a distance; with succulent balls of incongruous shapes clinging to its tendrils,
However as the wind blew mightily; stormy currents of air collided with it; infinite berries fell down on earth; rendering it as a pathetic sight to witness.

The coconut tree appeared domineering; standing at unprecedented heights from the mud; firmly holding its ground in the tenacious ocean breeze,
However as I shook it; exerting all my power assiduously assisted by my fellow mates; the hard shell fell with a thump on the floor; snapping apart into scores of asymmetrical halves.

The maple tree looked like an angel descended from the sky; with its golden leaves shimmering in the sunshine,
However as the vigils of autumn took over; it now resembled a threadbare urchin; shivering incessantly as the slightest of current struck its naked persona.

The mango tree appeared enticing and voluptuous; with a conglomerate of brilliant shell adhering to it faithfully,
However the same replicated and impoverished beggar; as a battalion of red ant and woodpecker; nibbled passionately at its flaccid fruit.

The fir tree looked enchanting in the moonlight; producing sweet volley of rustling voices,
However as snow fell unrelentingly from the sky; its branches drooped towards the slope; unable to bear the tyranny of ice any longer.

The Banyan tree appeared impregnable; with its century old roots dangling impeccably like compactly entwined threads,
However it developed a series of gaping holes in its silhouette; as a fleet of parasitic termites attacked it voraciously from all sides.

The Fig tree looked a sight to feast under the blistering Sun; with rubicund slices of fruit embellishing its persona,
However as the diabolical owl inhabited it at night; people shirked away from it in utter abhorrence; as much as they had initially loved it.

The Lemon tree growing in my backyard appeared pretty phlegmatic; slowly gyrating with the breeze; bearing a bunch of poignant fruit,
However it soon dried up into a mangled heap; when I inadvertently forgot to feed it with salubrious manure and water.

And the Tree of Our Immortal Love looked the most splendid of them all; bearing perennial fruit in all seasons; unhampered by the onset of the most thunderous rain and snow; unperturbed by the pandemonium going on in the world,
It had stood the test of all times; stood as formidable as the Omnipotent Creator; for fathomless centuries; even after we had evacuated the soil of this earth.


(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
 
»The true challenge

 

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to distribute exuberant air; but the true challenge
lies in evolving the winds of newness; out of
bizarrely preposterously bits of inane nothingness,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to clamber the slope of the mountain; but the true
challenge lies in evolving indomitably unflinching
patriotism; out of grains of fecklessly infinitesimal
sand obsoletely sprinkled around,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to swim in the ocean; but the true challenge lies in
evolving the waters of eternally mesmerizing freedom;
out of unsurpassably derogatory hopelessness,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to smell the rose; but the true challenge lies in
evolving the fragrance of everlasting togetherness;
out of salaciously invidious brutality lingering
everywhere,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to eat tantalizing food; but the true challenge lies
in evolving fruits of unassailably egalitarian
humanity; out of endlessly adulterated and
disparagingly lackadaisical soil,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to run; but the true challenge lies in evolving the
unconquerable speed of benign goodness; out of
maliciously lugubrious and acridly sodomizing
politics,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to sight; but the true challenge lies in evolving the
lantern of perennially mesmerizing hope in the eyes of
one and all alike; out of haplessly beleaguered
blackness,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to express; but the true challenge lies in evolving
insuperable righteousness in every cranny of the
heart; out of murderously delirious betrayal all
around,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to shoot; but the true challenge lies in evolving a
sky of Omnipotent honesty to forever kill the
indiscriminately marauding devil; out of corpses of
endlessly massacring stagnation,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to smile; but the true challenge lies in evolving an
unsurpassable heaven of happiness in every dwelling
besieged with obnoxious despair; out of cold-bloodedly
flagrant and unsparing diabolism around,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to dress up; but the true challenge lies in evolving
the perpetual warmth of uninhibited friendship in good
times and bad; out of satanically squelching
maelstroms of crippling hatred around,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to measure time; but the true challenge lies in
evolving a timeless township of earnestly respectful
punctuality; out of dastardly delinquent and rotting
laziness,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to adventure; but the true challenge lies in evolving
an inimitable forest of exhilaratingly untainted
enchantment; out of monotonously bizarre and
truculently lambasting commercialism,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to sleep; but the true challenge lies in evolving a
peerless blanket of invincibly celestial tranquility;
out of frenetically disappearing nervousness,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to be seduced; but the true challenge lies in evolving
a limitless sea of tantalizing euphoria; out of a
desert of raunchily decrepit decay and ghastly
desolation,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to dance; but the true challenge lies in evolving an
boundless entrenchment of creativity in even the most
penuriously diminishing of soul; out of mortuaries of
nonchalantly stinking death, ’

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to write; but the true challenge lies in evolving a
treasury of unfathomably royal sensitivity; out of
treacherously barren and meaninglessly blank paper,

There were an infinite ways in the modern world today
to breathe; but the true challenge lies in evolving an
unbreakable relationship of symbiotic humanity; out of
barbarously goddamned manipulation and frigid
snobbishness,

And there were an infinite ways in the modern world
today to love; but the true challenge lies in evolving
an immortal heartbeat of everlastingly unshakable
equality; out of hedonistically cacophonic and
intransigently cursing hell’s around…


(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
 
»The true martyrs

 

You might have emptied unfathomable barrels of blood
from your body for your ownself; praying to the Lord
Almighty; to grant you all the richness of this
gigantic world; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who unflinchingly dare
to shed even a single droplet of their inconspicuous
blood; for the sake of their majestically sacrosanct
motherland….

You might have unsparingly thrashed all bones of your
body to pulverized curry for your ownself; praying to
the Lord Almighty; to grant you the entire wisdom of
this exotic earth; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who lend even a
diminutive iota of their altruistic shoulder; to
alleviate their priceless motherland; from the
clutches of bizarrely barbaric captivity….

You might have ruthlessly exploded even the last trace
of your voice for your ownself; praying to the Lord
Almighty; to grant you all fascinating enchantment of
this ever-pervading Universe; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who blazingly utter
even a single word; to defend their gloriously royal
motherland; against salaciously acrimonious
traitors…..

You might have lecherously maimed both your hand and
feet for your ownself; praying to the Lord Almighty;
to grant you the Omnipotent power to conquer the
entire planet; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who intrepidly take
even a single step forward; to relinquish the last
iota of life; for blissfully preserving their;
fabulously indomitable motherland…..

You might have vindictively burnt both your eyes for
your ownself; praying to the Lord Almighty; to grant
you the spell binding power to maneuver the destinies
of all on this fathomless earth; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who fearlessly protect
even a single fraction of soil; for regally
immortalizing their; beautifully divine motherland…..

You might have treacherously sliced the entire network
of your intestines for your ownself; praying to the
Lord Almighty; to grant you all the voluptuous
charisma of the boundless globe; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who smilingly bear even
the most lethal wounds on their chest; perpetually
ensuring that no power on this Universe could ever;
invidiously intrude upon their blessed motherland…..

You might have venomously poisoned your entire brain
for your ownself; praying to the Lord Almighty; to
grant you all the invincibly glittering success of the
unsurpassable earth; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who patriotically
sacrifice even an infinitesimal portion of their
memory; evolving the most ingenious of ideas; to
wholesomely bereft their compassionate motherland;
from the ignominy of extinction…..

You might have ominously exonerated the entire air
from your nostrils for your ownself; praying to Lord
Almighty; to grant you all lives on this colossal
planet and that too for infinite more births to yet
unveil; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who uninhibitedly
diffuse even a single breath of theirs; to spawn a
civilization of perennial newness; on every cranny of
their bountifully resplendent motherland…..

And you might have tyrannically extricated every iota
of caring from your heart for your ownself; praying to
the Lord Almighty; to grant you the happiness of all
on this unending globe; in return instead,
But the true martyrs are those who selflessly donate a
single beat of their love; for embellishing every
quarter of their heavenly motherland; with the spirit
of timelessly proliferating existence….


©®copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.
 
»The true spirit of life

 

In order to bring out the true essence of rose; you need to place it in
strong
currents of misty breeze,
In order to bring out the true sparkle of diamond; you need to scrub it
vigorously with a coarse chunk of cloth,
In order to bring out the true flavor of milk; you need to tenaciously
extract
the same from the sacrosanct demeanor of mother cow,
In order to bring out the true softness of scalp hair; you need to
meticulously entangle the disdainful clusters; swish the hair brush
animatedly
all over,
In order to bring out the true aroma of swirling waves; you need to
make them
collide with the mammoth conglomerate of shining rocks,
In order to bring out the true color of the sky; you need to inundate
it with
dazzling beams of sunlight,
In order to bring out the true taste of succulent apple; you need to
masticate
the same with overwhelming ardor,
In order to bring out the true strength of cement; you need to sprinkle
it
with small pints of water everyday; granting it fortification with
every hour
unleashing,
In order to bring out the true heat of sands; you need to let them
sizzle in
hostile light rays of the afternoon sun,
In order to bring out the true complexion of the chameleon; you need to
let it
philander freely in constantly changing surroundings,
In order to bring out the true size of the preposterously huge whale;
you need
to place it in a pond replete with small fish,
In order to bring out the true transparency of mirror, you need to
sight your
reflection in the same; at an hour past unearthly midnight,
In order to bring out the true scent of nondescript mud; you need flood
the
same with infinite globules of fresh rain water,
In order to bring out the true voice of the nightingale; you need to
provide
it with a perpetually still ambience to sing its melodious tunes,
In order to bring out the true smile of a child; you need to hoist it
high in
the air; kiss and tickle it voraciously in its ribs,
In order to bring out the true speed of the panther; you need to entice
him
with a flock of nimble footed deer galloping through the forest,
In order to bring out the true belligerence of a soldier; you need to
place
him against his adversary; on the merciless battlefield,
In order to bring out the true fervor of love; you need to stand by
your
beloved till times immemorial,
And in order to bring out the 'TRUE SPIRIT OF LIFE'; you need to plunge
into
the sea of vivacious adventure; confront a plethora of acerbic
barricades; and
yet come out of it all guns blazing…

(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
 
»The truest king

 

Just philandering through the unfathomably embellished
interiors of the palace; doesn’t make you even one
iota of a prince at all,
He who might be breathing in an infinitesimally dingy
hole; but yet obeying the principles of timelessly
unequivocal and synergistic simplicity; epitomizes
gloriously unparalleled kinghood; is indeed the truest
king…

Just adorning your fingers with the costliest of rings
and glittering diamonds of the earth; doesn’t make you
even one speck of a prince at all,
He who might be walking barefoot without even a roof
to sequester his scalp; but yet beautifully bonding
with every fraternity of living kind handsomely alike;
epitomizes brilliantly insuperable kinghood; is indeed
the truest king…

Just unrelentingly rolling through mountains of
unsurpassable gold while nonchalant snores emanated
from your mouth; doesn’t make you even one whisker of
a prince at all,
He who might be wandering without a cloth on his
uncontrollably shivering body; but yet kissing the
sacrosanct soil which had pricelessly evolved him;
epitomizes unshakably royal kinghood; is indeed the
truest king..

Just endlessly partying in under waterfalls of the
most opulent of wine; cavorting with the most
emolliently tantalizing fairies on this earth; doesn’t
make you even one shadow of a prince at all,
He who might be without a mercurial morsel of food in
his stomach; but yet altruistically offering every
droplet of his blood to mitigate hedonistically
tyrannized humanity; epitomizes unassailably peerless
kinghood; is indeed the truest king…

Just uncontrollably massacring everything that came
into your hands; at your own whimsically eccentric
will; doesn’t make you one impression of a prince at
all,
He who might be profusely drenched in nothing but
ordinarily colorless sweat all day and night; but yet
holistically frolicking with and indefatigably
admiring the panoramic treasures of Nature divine;
epitomizes impregnably unflinching kinghood; is indeed
the truest king…

Just fostering a cornucopia of the most sagaciously
rarest literature in the world; unceasingly smoking
the highest quality cigar in your library while
countless slaved for you outside; doesn’t make you one
grain of a prince at all,
He who might be sporadically hurled in by the
unsparingly violent sea tides; but yet harnessing each
alphabet of his writing with the fragrance of
unconquerably blissful truth; epitomizes triumphantly
eternal kinghood; is indeed the truest king…

Just making the entire planet dance at the tips of
your snobbishly sullen fingers; using disastrously
nuclear and atomic power to its vindictive best;
doesn’t make you one breath of a prince at all,
He who might be inevitably nearing his dreaded corpse;
but yet fervently working towards uniting the
acrimoniously estranged planet into the religion of
unbreakable humanity; epitomizes celestially effulgent
kinghood; is indeed the truest king…

Just adorning your spurious skin with the earth’s
greatest perfumes; toasting to your feckless success
while countless licked the squalidness of your
anarchist shoe; doesn’t make you one ingredient of a
prince at all,
He who might be hoisting unimaginable tonnes of
garbage on his head for indispensable survival; but
yet compassionately parenting every infant dreadfully
orphaned on this globe; epitomizes wonderfully
ebullient kinghood; is indeed the truest king…

Just inhaling the most sensuously untainted flowers in
your palatial gardens for a second; and then making
them the mincemeat of your toweringly decrepit feet;
doesn’t make you one wink of a prince at all,
He who might be unstoppably bleeding under the attack
of sadistically cannibalistic parasites; but yet
ardently leaning forward to protect the divinely
redolence of his selfless mother till his very last
breath; epitomizes indomitably perpetual kinghood; is
indeed the truest king…

And just floating in the aisles of silken luxury for
times immemorial; liberating the hideously entrapped
sensuality in your body to the most unprecedented
limits; doesn’t make you one cranny of a prince at
all,
He who might be truculently shattered to an infinite
pieces by the disparagingly conventional society; but
yet solely following the innermost tunes of his heart
and ubiquitously disseminating the spirit of immortal
love in every organism alike; epitomizes fathomlessly
perennial kinghood; is indeed the truest king…


(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
 
»The tune of air

 

The mystic tune of melodious air,
Shimmering brightly in perennial softness,
With breaths of insatiable desire,
Like a golden harp beside me,
Flowing past my eyes; smothering all sorrows,
Entitling its presence to my skin,
With showers of silken delight to follow.

The path of air inside me,
Imprisons me with a wave of hope,
Briskly striding over a mountain of sadness,
Subsiding every iota of pain,
Enveloping my whole being in a languid manner,
Making surplus availability of exuberant thoughts,
To say goodbye to me.

That blazing rumble of soft movement,
Tickles my conscience astride,
Offering its red hot tenacity,
To the liquid of rage inside me,
Penetrating me with slow viscosity,
Determining my fate to go,
Placing me in an abysmal dilemma,
Like the dexterous string of elastic bows.
 
»The tycoon and I

 

The murderously monotonous tycoon got up with a sordid
groan even before the cock could crow outside his
bedroom window; to nonchalantly squabble his
sanctimonious appointments for the morning,
While I snored like a gentle giant all day; evading
every trace of ferociously atrocious daylight; only to
profusely drown myself into a paradise of celestial
poetry; all throughout the voluptuously star studded
night….

The indiscriminately slandering tycoon got up with in
a state of inexplicably ungainly shock; treacherously
preparing his every bone to walk with his corporate
comrades and with only a pair of shorts on his body;
in the uncontrollably trembling wind of the winter
dawn,
While I unrelentingly fantasized with my eyes
perennially shut all blistering day; only to
insatiably churn unfathomable volumes of poetry; in
the heart of the ravishingly pearly night….

The derogatorily corrupt tycoon got up as even the
most mercurial of ant tickled his foot; envisaging it
to be his dreadfully dastardly boss; snapping his
salary for the month,
While I romantically shut my lids to the sunshine
drifting down the majestic hills all day; only to
intransigently fulminate into a catharsis of heart
rendering poetry; in the lap of the iridescently
beautiful night….

The truculently chauvinistic tycoon got up and stirred
the entire household awake; even as the yawn
dogmatically refrained to leave his inexorably aching
mouth,
While I innocuously sang and snoozed all day with the
symbiotic beats of Nature Divine; only to spawn into
an entrenchment of unassailably priceless poetry; in
the fabric of the sensuously enchanting night…..

The maliciously grotesque tycoon got up to the first
rings of his sleazily embellished mobile phone; for
which he gave the most indescribable of abuse but
still considered it more than his wife and the only
measly mantra for his life,
While I cozily tucked myself under the caverns of
unprecedented enthrallment all blazingly unstoppable
day; only to magically inundate the atmosphere with
eclectically vibrant poetry; in the miraculously
healing rhythm of the spell bindingly panoramic
night…..

The perfidiously barbarous tycoon got up like frigidly
colorless icecream; wholesomely brainwashed by the
chill of his state-of-the-art airconditioner; and the
ostentatiously bizarre whisky that he had consumed to
please his clients; the evening before,
While I surreally wandered like an unhindered prince
through the ebulliently cascading waterfalls all day;
only to euphorically erupt into a festoon of
sacrosanct poetry; in the everlastingly effulgent
cadence of the regally rain soaked night….

The obnoxiously white collar tycoon got up
asphyxiating the throat of his adorable wife;
perceiving it to be the whiplash of his maliciously
decrepit senior; as his nightmare continued
relentlessly mercilessly,
While I assimilated all benign goodness of this
scintillating planet with my eyelashes curled all day;
only to timelessly gallivant with the heaven of
immaculate poetry; in the playground of the
ecstatically moonlit night….

The invidiously blood sucking tycoon got up with a
cleaver on his newborn’s throat; for inadvertently
teaching him to uninhibitedly rest and reap,
While I fantastically obfuscated myself far away from
the insipid vagaries of this planet all day; only to
remarkably revel in the aura of godly poetry; in the
heart of the ingratiatingly charismatic and vivid
night…..

O! Yes my life was infinite times more blessed than
the satanically marauding and hollow tycoon; for
although he had all laurels and wealth in this world
to whimsically execute,
He eventually went to the Lord’s hell for diffusing
abhorrently prejudiced unhappiness in every molecule
around him; while I immortally lived even after death
without even earning a single penny; in the breath of
my Omnipotent poetry….





(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.
 
 
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