Poetry is a language Of powerful thoughts and imagery, it can strike in the heart of man, it can shape lives and actions. Then can it not be used to enhance to the finder qualities of man? Rather than providing shallow enjoyment? And promoting the baser instincts? If I was a poet, I would like my words To compell the soul, To pursue the true pupose of existence. Oh, what wouldn’t I give to go on collecting my reward, Beyond this life....

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Frustrated!

16-08-04

Why is life so busy?
No time to relax; no time to breathe,
Working, studying, shopping, outing,
Where is worship; what about faith?

Why is life so boring?
Seeking, finding bodily pleasures,
Chasing wealth through endless measures,
Been everywhere; done it all,
Nothing’s new; a monotonous roll,
Where are virtues; what about manners?

Why is life so demanding?
Living by ads; conformation,
Peer pressure; affirmation,
Following crowds; primal urges,
Anarchy rules, crime surges,
Where is self-pride; what about honours?

Why is life so draining?
Always taking, grabbing, pinching,
Centre of attention; all seeking
Nobody’s willing to spare or share
Where is giving; what about care?

It won’t get better;
If we do not change
And our life we must rearrange.

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