Man’s Best Friend

You throw your frisbee,
And I’ll get it for you.
Ask me to catch a thief,
I’ll tear him apart.

Do you have a loaf of bread?
I am your best friend, remember!
Signify your passionate zenith,
I crave only for your affection.

You would have never expected this from me,
But selfless love is what I offer.
Playing with you is what makes me alive.
Coz your happy mood makes me to smile.

Then I wonder why I am an abusive slang.
You call her a bitch when she ditches you.
You call them dog when they cheat you.
I am still looked upon as an object of depravity

I ask you WHY?

Don’t I signify your emotional being.
Can’t you give me love in return?
I should have been the apostle of affection for the human race.
As what I offer is selfless love.

What you get with ease,
Is what you despise.
You don’t know
What selfless love is. 
May be coz it never existed to you.

Neither do I intend to harm you,
Nor will I ask anything in return.
But I stand as a question mark in front of this humanity.
Which sings songs of self praise and selfless love.

Think not before hurling a stone at me
Nor while calling her a bitch.
But do think twice
before calling me “Man’s best friend”.
 

When Music Is Played

Six strings and a wooden box.

I close my eyes while my soul gets lost.

  

Silence within me was what I was searching.

Placid song within me was urging.

An urge to fly beyond the sky.

Dance and swing, float and cry.

As you play again and touch my soul.

I wonder how within me you crawl.

While you strum, my enigma you hum.

I take a dive into the mystiques of life.

Let your music play and allow my conscious to melt.

Coz now the demons pray, divinity they have felt.

Coz when music is played….

The universe sublimes in to me, to stoke the fire that moves us.

My aspiration for the good will of humanity condenses to a heart shaped crystal.

Music is the construction of a thought,

Yearning of man in draught.

In the semblance of gratitude when we pray.

It is the eyes of your beloved when she is laid.

It is the waves which makes me fly.

Helps me talk to the sun and the sky.

An emotional desire, a condensed fire.

An outcast mole, dead man’s hope.

Worthiness of your birth, serenity and mirth.

Rejuvenation of faith, songs I create.

Coz when music played

My conscience lies naked to be embraced by the supreme.

Someone walks into my soul and wakes up a dream.

All that glitters is not gold

.
.
I had to climb precipitous rise.
For it they promised me a prize.
Ttask I took for glory.
Journey was long and not ordinary.
Its the last day before my victory.
2 months of journey will be history.
Journey required determination so a golden rule was told.
In my subconscious I said“ all that glitters is not gold.”

Wet soil, kicking pebbles, at times beautiful meadow
A lot of fame and lot of wealth will bestow.
Setting sun, birds dissolving in the dusky sky.
Wanted to paint down the beauty and let my creativity fly.
Wanted to dance with those villagers and have a feel of their joy.
Wanted to relive childhood and play with villager’s boy.
To be myself I wanted to taste that flurry.
I mumbled, but in the end quietness with fury.
The fury of brain enveloping my heart.
I recalled the golden rule, and the reason to start.
Confused for the glory but now I reach my goal.
Smile on everybody’s face, but deterrent is my soul.

Why do I have these pricking questions?
Was it expectation mounting high?
How can Odyssey touch my sore?
Again the golden rule I sigh.
I started the journey in search of glory.
Missed out all the moments of creative flurry.
Now I learn a lesson from this fable.
All that glitters is not gold but shining diamonds,
Who will shine till infinity, and shine for infinity.