The Movement.

The fanatic rode the snake in his blue bus,

so did the cobain doped himself so early,

there was no voodoo child left anymore,

because they were involuntarily called by him.

They marched with the freedom of independence,

rode on to any vehicle they could get,

passed on their thoughts to anyone they reached,

left a mark on anyone who called them and were preached,

stop calling names, those hollow gloomy faces,

instead realise the deep tranquility of reality,and reach for the inner-visions of the sorroundings,

The day when the souls preach the notions and thoughts,

that day his all battles are fought.

with all the leather and strings they fought amongst the mortals,

the words they threw and raged those sleeping machines,

drunk and dressed they brought the stage to a fire,

to rise up against all those who tried to bring down THE movement......

Chapter 7

Straight Highway

I put my gloves on, with my black shades,

Turn the keys, and start the engine blades,

Turn the accelerator, and begin my journey ahead,

Don’t know where I’m heading, with my bags packed with beer and bread.

Winds whistling past my face, my hair curling here and there,

Going to have a little fun, a good time,

The highway is straight, full off pits and shrines,

With every turn of my wheel, leaving my past behind I look up to the divine.

With my brakes on, reached the mountain top,

This is the place where I can do anything and I won’t get caught,

Could see the never ending river down the hill I climbed,

Plunged in to the river and tasted its fresh spirit.

Lost in the wilds, with the greens around me,

This was freshness I wanted always that made me feel free,

Look out at the world beyond thee full of emotions,

Run with me, come to me and I will show you that they are just but false notions.

Marching Orders

Marching ants, vibrant sunflowers, flowing waves of birds,
everything was not so complex as a flock of herds,
life was never that easy as it is hasty,
the flow of events turned out to be nasty.

Spilled coffee on the teak,
life was flowing at its maximum peak,
movement of every single entity around me,
could feel the flow of every drop of blood gushing through thee.

Burst car tyres, bent rim, shattered glasses,
life flashed in front of me in few moments,
mind has lost its synchronisation with the brain,
things have slowly started flowing down the drain.

Teardrops, like the perennial raindrops was a sight,
life was turning , running like a turbulent flight,
dropped the coffee mug, shattered , scattered,
kept everything, every second of the spent life aside.

Marched forward away from the abnormalities of those formalities,
far away in those jungles high above without any tragedies,
the smile was back in those peaceful surroundings,
missing was NOW the hustle bustle tangled boundings.

End was near, not yet close but not so far either,
torn clothes were better than the ripped soul I had,
puzzle was complete so was the destiny's marching orders,
it could have been easy if those sane moments could've been pondered.

"Mortals block their emotions in such a way as,
Birds flock their feathers in a motion."
--Nishant (19/01/11)