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"The magic of exposure" Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
Informal as it is meant to be,
To recuperate from a return,
And be amazed at the generosity,
In welcoming a buzz in a system,
When the conquerors,
Spreading all but peace,
Were introduced as a ghostly figure,
Into a ghastly established medium.
Seen, at the sheer audacity of an attempt,
To be elevated in value,
That may have retained a pause in calamity,
At a beginning of a lucky charm –
The trick was to be in appearance,
When the rampage, making no sense,
Of an execution to be on a platform,
Delivered malice and ill-intent.
The possession in apathy, treacherous,
When even in function, there was deceit –
Lousy ground to lose points,
Snap out of it and snap in a second,
As at a learnt sign of a reaction,
There, remained acceptance of an illusion,
So massive that an absence of focus,
Presented an outcome of utmost disaster.
And then, a melody, suggests a chance,
Taken as a distribution in relative volumes,
Of an existence pointed out to be menial,
With an imbalance, that called upon the greats!
The greatest, were to be in place,
Involved in delivering an answer,
To an enclosure towards a divinity,
When a hand faced the other hand.
It indicated an unappreciated dominance,
Be put to rest but not in exchange,
At an expression of subversive phenomenon,
As subjective to the limit of desire,
In a transformative creation –
Coming alive, coming in any form,
Of life and of eagerness in steps,
Towards a revival of legends.
There, at a place of a confluence,
In prayers as ideas of abundance,
A shake of a head, shook realizations,
Out of placement and into a faster beat –
Rapid, the pace of associated intensities,
When seemingly, there is elimination,
Of every unintended introduction,
In the past, and in the present, of atrocities.
Viva la Vida! There out as a rule,
When an elephant sized thought, sits on a stool,
And that which couldn’t be contained by a luxury,
Of space, and annexed cryptography,
As seen as a colony of objectivities,
At best, presence, described as drudgery,
Yet, to be at a liberty of nuisance,
And why not to be?
The fate was at a leisure, analyzed,
And presented, to the taste of bitterness,
Where a deity was marred,
And, no news of it surfaced. And why?
It remains to be seen,
As a glory walk, where the sound,
Makes of smooth trajectory and is addictive,
That which causes a flurry in emotions –
Sweet, dependable and acceptable.
Now, seen in holistic methodology,
In all of the immersive sizes and shapes,
There was always put upon a harrying bench,
A reason, so real that it was believable.
It is also seen that as a man of patience,
At a sign of his own magnificence,
Displayed tolerance to the repulsiveness of this cause,
As put in a disguise of a lesson learnt.
Just, as a belief lent to a strength of relief,
Within every other angle of discredit, so that,
The credulity be damaged, to favour,
The conspiracy held against him –
It is seen as a praise in all of character,
None to contribute, hence the divide.
Again, there are episodes in the past,
With the presence of evidence to claim the same,
Making it almost impossible,
In the hunt of plausible and tangible material,
To attract attention towards displeasure,
Of a relatively engaging roast.
The exposure of all of this makes sense,
As the royalty, coming to the sound,
Of sirens of pleasure in being free,
Of rage, anger and all this, for reason,
Against whom?
“Nip it in the bud” Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
Snub the bud of the stick,
While the spirit is down,
Else a sparkle may bring and catch fire,
And an idea may burn.
Down and down – keep that head of yours;
Bow and bow – to that idea;
Don’t you dare confess,
You know better that the music should run its course.
Raise your glass of vin or whisky,
That you choose, where your emotion lay,
You see, the floor is open; become a dance in act,
Or play the tune that makes of it.
And then, you hear the real music,
Put in flames and it is in all of spirit,
That you claim as yours,
When in reality, it belongs to none in life.
Swing and swing – that body of yours;
Belong and submit to the devil – it is two to tango;
Who else may assist in the endeavour,
Against all odds, and who dare say that it is anybody else.
Open and shed, your outer skin,
Of pride, ego and the mercy that brings of guilt;
Swing and swing – in all of those memories,
You see, the indulgence is beyond ecstasy.
Commit, and the bell tolls;
Resist, and there are flames;
Now, you have open secrets;
And none to dance with!
You become a small piece of wood,
From a felled tree, and you are now part of the fire;
You better burn well,
And you realize your purpose.
The remains of the fire,
Are of not much use to wind; Yet, the wind,
Carries them along.
But, do you actually think the wind is your “Bon Ami”?
The spin in all that perishes,
Comes to belong in dust as it settles,
Also of which is carried by the wind,
But, do you actually think the dust is your “Bonne Amie”?
The only aspect of this expedition,
To wish for your swing, is a “bon voyage”,
And this is a “bon idée”?
Believe me the idea may burn too and none may claim it!
You come to realize the worth,
Of a monotone, in it even though you belong,
Makes of a bitter existence,
And yet, you resist in the persistence to perish.
And then, you beg for a choice,
And you beg for forgiveness;
Yet, you don’t understand,
The storm has already begun;
You see, all before with silence,
Within you and the exterior,
And you fail, to observe,
Bursts of fire that surrender.
You criticize life as it comes,
But fail to comprehend,
That you belong to the moment,
And its fleeting nature.
Swing and swing – that head of yours;
A trance and a subjugation;
Where do you stand?
In fire or to belong in due course to fire.
I don’t mince words –
When I say “Nip it in the bud”
And I dare you, not to!
To understand the place where you belong.
For now, I suggest you take me,
And my opinion to bring you to life,
And none to other cause;
You see, I am ‘the one’ but not just another one.
Now, keep with the spirit while it is up, put in flames;
Dance and dance – you deserve it;
The earth may not shatter,
And yes, it is definitely not the end.
To check, there is a spike and that is in the energy,
Of you in the act;
A measure is a must,
Else who dare say the devil is not involved.
Whiplash! Do you hear it snap?
It doesn’t sound like a joke. Does it?
Hmmmm, the soul belongs in the moment,
And you believe it belongs to somebody?
The rage, and the testimony,
When you forget you didn’t read the fine print,
Are but introduced to the oblivion,
And now, don’t blame me for this idea that I suggested!
I am a tool at the whim considered as lame,
As I think it is to get when I want it to be and it may –
I recommend you don’t panic,
Because the problem could have been more tragic!
I suggest when you may begin in future to mock the devil in you,
And to mitigate you succumbing to frustration,
Keep it low,
Else, it may just mess with your own approach.
You don’t want this to end,
And I see why?
There, at the corner, you want a happy ending –
You may get it, and that’s when you may accept a wish,
Granted by the devil!
You don’t want it, now that you realize,
Oh God! The love is relevant in the act that is apt;
When you understand that there is no pithy valued existence --
And you see the muscular flexing of the devil becoming defunct.
At last, considering the thought of the evil,
And embarking on a journey--
I strongly would recommend a plan,
Which is to “Nip it in the bud”.
“The people’s tribunal” Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
There were cries loud and clear,
When the innocence of the world was scorched,
Of which, the wrath was claimed by none,
And thus, the crux remained an untimely benefactor.
A prolonged wondrous epic,
In a fatal existence of an interplay,
Between a capture and an escape,
Of morality and mortality emerged.
That’s when, a lightning struck the ground,
And opened, ready as to take in,
The spirit of the time, and there was a lullaby,
In memory of the circumstance.
The strike caused an abyss that formed,
In the ground, carried as annihilated,
And now, evident was a fall,
Of an abandoned factor in a journey.
Then, the world was set to fire,
In fear that the spirit wouldn’t exhume,
And together burnt –
The world and its spirit.
The flames with no remedy burned, with a rise,
Of a disinterested approach, yet a lie couldn’t be called a lie,
And so, a witness was called upon, from the skies,
Along with a degeneration in the descent,
And was expressed as an interchange;
When the witness was bent upon scattering –
All the doorways through an intended medium,
And the abode, were barred for entry.
The witness saw no matter of consequence,
Along the steps and with a glaring renunciation,
Kept a guided disregard to the intention,
Of all those who knew of less significance.
The world was reduced to ashes –
Those remains were unattended,
And the witness declared, all of it,
As an act of innocence.
Then came, the judgement ".."
