One's personality is both a composition and reflection, but if I have to choose one of them, I will choose reflection as the "self" is more important to me than "me". One's composition may change, walking across the cultural landscapes and climbing the social ladder but one's self is tied to one's reflections. The fun part is that reflections are not bound to "Time-Space" barriers ( it is not time-space) and respective mental constructs, which have grown so thick over ages, that they had reduced the image of humans to Sisyphus, rolling different sizes of boulders on hills of different heights.… As the name of this Blog indicates, knols are my perspectives on topics of interests, sweet/bitter experiences or just doodling :)

Monday, November 28, 2011

Evils are epidemic (Poems)

Evils are epidemic

Dates weren't same on epitaphs of graves
Helpless were all, envious were real naives
Evils are epidemic, all may know
Truth cut on defeat and flase bow
Men stand with strength of face
What evils want to disgrace
Intuition is not to decieve
Senses are where evils perceive
Niether Science nor technologies are evils
Greed is that eat all, like weevils


Under shades of liberties

Under shades of liberties are invisible vortexes
In opportunities are hoaxes
Diversity of modern world grow
Trousers for owls and shirts for crow
Artificial flavors have increased hogs
Rates of profits have increased, dogs
Wash out virtues, acquire confidence
To civilization, only progress is evidence


I saw my real face, in my heart

When I saw the wealthy in chain
I decided to liberate my brain
Not all were able to see the chian
Though aimless field is plain
My sweats and tears are colorless
They are for all who are in pain
My blood is warm and thin
It has to flow for what I am certain
In world of sesnes, joys dance
But in fact, truth is behind curtain
I saw my real face, in my heart
Calling for justice, again and again
Men of civilizations within offices
All the times, to us glibly explain
Some were drinking wine, others tears
Stomaches grind its walls while machines grind grain

Power is not a thing to share

Fears have no home in except in minds
Aware minds can't be kind
You can see but do you feel
The innerself needs a peel
When mind is in service of power
Sense can't be seen from any tower
Sacrifices is not for welfare
Power is not a thing to share
Minds have to be washed out
Or it may be wandered in doubt
Suffocate it, or sleep by extra-liberty
That awakes make, fields of power, dirty


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