Life = Death - Volume 9 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

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9. I WAS FED UP 

 

I was fed up of being parasitically dependant,

Not of my irrevocable weight; inevitably squelching loose chunks of soil as I walked.

 

I was fed up of being worthlessly pampered,

Not of my unrelenting festoon of fantasies; which tirelessly cuddled me; beyond the ultimate epitomes of mesmerizing enthrallment.

 

I was fed up of going to manipulatively uncouth office,

Not of indefatigably working to achieve my art; rise to be the absolute best in my romantically voluptuous passions of existence.

 

I was fed up of being sympathetically fed,

Not of rightfully earning my share of appetizing meal; from earth’s fathomless reserve of ravishingly bountiful endowment.

 

I was fed up of ostentatiously spurious relationships,

Not of blending with bonds of eternal love and philanthropic friendship; making me the richest entity alive on the trajectory of this boundless Universe.

 

I was fed up with cowards who were infidel,

Not of innocuously bouncing infants; capriciously changing their moods; even as the winds nimbly changed the slightest of their direction.

 

I was fed up of taking things for granted,

Not of the wonderfully intrinsic processes of my body; which functioned like astoundingly meticulous clockwork all night and day; to keep me blissfully alive.

 

I was fed up of casual approaches to lead life,

Not of the serene calm which enveloped my mind; propelling me to focus on the unsurpassable myriad of things; yet to be destined.

 

I was fed up of being tyrannically dictated,

Not of being a perennially obedient slave of true love; bowing down in revered obeisance to the flower of humanity; which invincibly lingered all over the planet.

 

I was fed up of youth staring lackadaisically towards fading horizons,

Not of the intrepidly endowed soldier; who sacrificed his life for his motherland; without even batting an eye.

 

I was fed up witnessing people polishing the shoes of their pompously inflated boss,

Not of the patriotic stalwarts; kissing their goals incessantly even while in their sleep; hugging inseparably to their benevolent mission in life.

I was fed up of ghastly war and indiscriminate bloodshed,

Not of the unfathomable rebel in my soul; which resolved to scrap injustice and hatred; from the tiniest core of their non-existent roots.

 

I was fed up of the mockingly hollow rules of the conventional society,

Not of my stringently incorrigible conviction to fight till I shed the last iota of breath; for the soul mate of my life.

 

I was fed up of the shadows of the ominously evil,

Not of the most magnanimous reflections of sharing; the unconquerable shimmers of unity that remained alive even after sunset.

 

I was fed up of the brutally insensitive odor of profound commercialism,

Not of the golden perspiration that melodiously cascaded down my palms; gloriously depicting the blissfully enduring fruits of my wholehearted turmoil.

 

I was fed up of lecherously sinister betrayal,

Not of the wilderness of my rampantly throbbing heart; which made me exuberantly explore in a million different directions; every unleashing minute.

 

I was fed up of bombastically assisted at each conjecture of survival,

Not of the impregnable power of my conscience; which made me unflinchingly confront the most acrimonious of obstacle; with fireballs of faith engulfing my eyes.

 

And I was fed up of treacherously chained life,

Not of the immortal spirit of existence; which was so strong; that it made live an infinite lives more; even though I wanted to die.