Our Judgements

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Those trendy jeans with adorned holes?
Or torn rags that embellish the kitchen chores?

That arrogant corn which reluctantly pops?
Or the heroic efforts that shot him to the top?

Those orotund adjectives which nobody reads?
Or the bland creation without those beads?

That ugly stare from the adjacent creep?
Or an unspoken desire of a weird sheep?

Those revengeful eyes that refuse to close?
Or the pangs of grief that withered up the rose?

That lady who lost her honor in yet another heinous act?
Or another gimmick with a calculated tact?

Judgement, eh?
Judgement is the need!
No one’s certain
Which way it should be.

‘Cause the light
It mostly accentuates one way.
While the other one
Like a mean shadow,
Thinks of itself as a
Self righteous day.

My Tattered Shoes

I was given a pair of shoes as a gift.
For me, they were a perfect fit.
A new found happiness for a child unrestrained,
Rejoicing and dancing, as if heavens just rained.

Adorned they were by a few holes in them,
From where the colors of sunshine peeped in.
Uncomely they were for the eyes outside.
But for me, they were nothing less than true pride.

I could walk anyway I wanted
Ebullient, I was the least daunted.
But those shoes, they defied society’s yardstick.
And so I discarded them for a “fancy” pick.

I walked the way I was taught.
Even when I was clearly fraught.
My countenance did betray the thoughts within.
But I was not the one to give in.

Following a toy soldier, I tried to stand undefeated.
Carrying the load I was clearly heat treated.
But never did I lose my sangfroid.
Even when I was awfully annoyed.

But now after all these civilized years,
And all these unperturbed tears,
I yearn for those tattered shoes,
Which aptly taught me the ones and twos.

So when you see my composure wail,
Or when my steps are frigid and frail,
Remind me of my tattered shoes,
And I’ll be dancing and singing the blues.
‘Cause I’m sure I can pay all my dues
When I’m truly in my own tattered shoes.

Where Is My Pen?

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A 7 year old raped brutally.
The students beaten mercilessly.
Crores laundered in the scam.
And democracy is now a sham!

Religion, a reverent affair.
Is now a sacred weapon.
Regularly fired in the air,
Its bullets, claiming tons.

And naivety is not more than a facade.
With everyone playing equal parts.
‘Cause the decent naives,
Are meditating in their graves.

The leaves are withering.
And the birds have flown.
But things are burgeoning.
As our society has “positively grown”.

I’ll write an honest account,
Of things that always haunt.
But where is my pen?
Oh! I forgot!
It belongs to “them”.

The Magic Of Words!

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Words!
When spoken casually,
Can make you a clown.
When commanded with authority,
Can bring one down.

Words!
When given a proper structure,
Can make a beautiful song,
When shaped with a rude gesture,
Can make an abuse, strong.

Words!
When defined by anonymity,
Can go worthless.
When defined by affinity,
Can serve the purpose.

Words!
When fueled by manipulation,
Can give disastrous solutions.
When labelled with true emotions,
Can cause a strong revolution.

Words!
When chosen blindly,
Can take you to hell,
Can make things tragic.
Words!
When chosen wisely,
Can serve you well,
Can weave magic.