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Subtle Complexities and Myriad Simplicities by Ashok Subramanian P is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Brains in a pickle!

Brainwashed! On smooth soapy stones they lay,
Metaphorical blows to their head they take,
No, not a shadow, to an illusion they pray,
Oaths and promises to wash away their sins,
And unmentionable things an illusion brings!

A sacrifice of blood and sweat the enslaved pays,
Now showered with lauds of falsest praise,
I laugh aloud, at the beliefs they fancy,
They hail me a blaspheme, but mercy!
I'm human! I wish everyone like me was awake!

The Downtrodden Rises

Right at the bottom of the class,
The wretched little kid belonged,
Innumerable jabs and pokes he let pass,
Just him and his old broken set of crayons,
Solitude brewing a great big storm,
Sheets and sheets painted on with red,
No hint of emotion on his sleeve was worn,
Resound deep inside the smarting words they said!

A silhouette lurks beneath his wounded heart,
None but himself can hear it beat,
Stares at the subliminal little work of art,
At the brink of breakdown deeply breathes,
None left now he finds himself to blame,
The deep deceit in his misery he fails to see,
All he did was bow low as ever in shame,
Only a miracle now would set him free!

At the dusk of his oppression he lies,
On the grass looking up at the sky,
No escape from his torments however he tries,
He wonders how it would be just to die,
With none to mourn, none to weep,
No epitaph on his cold lonely grave,
No flower to adorn him when he's asleep,
Can't for a bit of warmth this cold man crave?

With spite and hate in his cold bosom,
He walks away, a sense of urgency in his gait,
He swears to tackle this all consuming spasm,
The hour is high, got not a second to waste,
When detest and deceit is all you've seen,
You're not to blame, You're no more human,
When none care for who you are, where you've been,
Treated like a man-devouring caiman.

With a flick of his wrist a man is slain,
His throat slit with the sharpest of knives,
Sharpened on his own rough trysts with pain,
He steps over the man, more lives to seize,
BEWARE BLOODY SWINES, YOU COME NEXT!
He laughs with a wicked gleam in his eye,
Another one goes down as the world stares vexed,
Scared to death, they know they'll die!

Amazing how changes arise at the blink,
From a milk-feasting cat to a blood-drawing feline,
With the gore adorning him like bling,
And he carries on with no regret, over rugged terrain!

My Love

Holding on to me like the night sea embraces the sun,
Emotions including juxtaposing of sheer pain and agony,
Sears of pain like rain on windshields of cars that run,
Like residents of a stamped upon and destroyed ant colony!

Dissolving in depressing gloom as salt does in fresh water,
I lie awake on my back looking at the stars and ponder,
What went wrong,I try to get to the root of the matter,
Where did I err, It still don't ring a bell and I just wonder.....


My Will

At perch on a mere anthill,
Looking down upon all the rest,
The ones I held close, Now seem so far,
It's not thou, but the power of my will,
A hurdle to cross, still cold in my breast,
I fail to see thy warm heart,
While thou shinest like a lonely star,
And my conviction still holds us apart........

The Studded Sky!

Look! The stars shine like lost gems,
I dream of floating about the milky-way,
And that may, put to rest all my whims,
And might put away all my crazy puns!
I glance once more at the night sky,
Tintinnabulations of joy and despair at once,
Lying on the grass I look and sigh,
The things they say to lead me astray!

Lust

Lured by the aroma of the forbidden fruit,
The modern temptress loses it all to fate!
Beguiled by shame, now covered with soot,
She becomes the victim from being the bait!

Thursday, April 03, 2008

First Sight(Not Love)

Oh God! I know what's lovelier than the loveliest flower,
The moment she walked right in front of my eyes,
More fascinating than the surge of Power,
Ask any layman sound, Any layman Wise!
No, 'Tis not love, not even any care,
But every bone aches to know how she fares!

Hail, Holy Mother of all Art!

Oh! Holy Mother of all Art!
My only truly God, thou Art!
A ruby on the bejewelled crown,
Of the fruits of Civilisation,
Ages back, Thy seeds were sown,
Our fertile minds fill with elation!
Life before thou, trace to the unimaginable,
Ward off those times as of the unspeakables,
Among the fewer joys of the Modern World,
Thou rest, Still afloat and no wonder!
With even all the spite unfurled,
And I, Indignant, I do ponder,
Ignorance is Bliss, They say, But,
This, Chokes me to the gut,
I'm to hail thou in words,
But the cliches and thou thyself fail me now!
Thou art flying high, amid the Whitest Birds,
I look, I smile, I hail, I bow!