A Phoenix Hymn...
Sometimes life takes a valiant turn,
A turn that compels you to change,
A change is desirable but not always
Still it is important for the disciplined display of immense maturity,
The disciple works and awaits in the hermitage,
But rather than cosmic nirvana its like being in a free go jail,
Its really pathetic when your presence is presumed
It hurts more when you can't convey it to them,
Sometimes it feels who cares,
Holy truth,
What rubbish,
Confused,
Depressed,
What is the bloody fact.
Let me break the shackles of burden tied my back,
Let me show them even I am the man with spine,
Could have been my mistake, I nurtured my ego,
But not always...
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poem by Vikrant Jog
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The Anonymous Spirit...
The lake of solace was never turbulent one,
Truly, it never looked that way,
But earth's core has its own say,
You, Me, I, We, They cannot have its guarantee,
In dreams, Anonym meets in the Illuminati,
He was a dream-walker,
As the lake he was comfortably numb,
Not his sole,
Not his ether.
He wanted to clean his water, clean his guilt,
Follow the Illuminus as Divine Rhythm,
Change the water into wine,
But traps sailed his way,
Now Angels deserve to die.
The Judgement day was long down the boulevard,
Chances come, opportunities go,
A pilgrim turned down a pagan emerges,
A Holy Symphony of Destruction.
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poem by Vikrant Jog
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And The Memory Remains
The dreams follow down your precious treasures,
Sometimes the nightmares,
The others just the memories of past,
All you cherish always don't last,
The grief, the sorrow, the fondest of all,
Memories do gush up with the first rainfall,
The first love, the first kiss,
Ohhh man how lucky were you when you were in bliss,
Wake up with good morning kiss,
Lie asleep with the sweetest goodnight kiss,
Suddenly, everything goes away with the wind,
Turbulent enough to keep open wounds,
Cry baby of life is all that you become,
Sorrowful days keeping nothing but painful blossoms,
Anything any day for a person you kept,
Nothing but thorns is what you get,
We rush out, we try but nothing works good,
Things you do,
You feel her whisper,
She voices in your ether no matter where you go.
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poem by Vikrant Jog
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The War Against the Tide.
The brave kingdom of blood and swords,
Was doomed to fail,
Goblins marched,
Cavalry vibrating the land with its mere walk,
The giant Xerxes was on his way to enslave Sparta,
Spartans.........
300 greatest warriors led by our King Leonidas marched up the Hell's Gate,
Swords shined, shields were ready for engraving the assaults, and the spears ready to Majesty Sparta,
Persians came far and wide,
Our King, the bravest knight,
Led the wall of Phalanx with spear and shield,
The freedom; from the paradoxical God was the yield,
The 300s fought till their corpses fell down,
They still never did knelt for the Xerxes clown,
King Leonidas and his 300 died in glory,
Shattering and quelling the mighty Goblin's story,
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poem by Vikrant Jog
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The Dream From The Past
Every night I dream,
Thousands of hours of war,
Mother Nile emits the tale of my scar,
The Land of Sphinx and Pharoahs of the damned,
The Land of progression and the corpses were rammed,
The Nomad rose up and threw down his horse,
The galloped the golden sand with the force of Ra,
He challenged the Pharoah in the battle of might,
Last man to stand should sling other's neck in a torque,
The Nomad rose up and charged with aggression,
The defense of Pharoah flowed up in frustration,
The swings, the flings, the charges, the assaults,
Blood splattered and smeared;
A corpse fell down and Nomad rose up from the sand,
The Nomad ruled the Land of mighty Ramses and beautiful Cleopatra,
He remembers the time serving the town of Hamunapatra,
The Nomad, the Messiah fought bad and evil with the might of Osiris,
Imhotep died a death of glory,
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poem by Vikrant Jog
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Silent Suicide...
Love makes you feel like a butterfly in a paradise,
Sometimes it takes a tragic end,
How does someone goes rude with the latter,
Many of them need former more than the water,
I will tell you the story of beauty and the beast,
Beneath words could be exaggerated but you will get a gist,
Love, the bloodiest, the bitchest nullified the beast,
He went in on and on like a psychic shit,
He was a bullet for beauty, loaded and stained,
Beauty played wicked game, turning him a foe to his friends,
Beast believed her,
Relations lasted perfect till money jingled his pockets,
Money lost, leaving him to drown with no life jackets,
Dark days hindered his skills, persona and performance,
He sucked himself in psychotic cluster and went real arrogant,
He was unable to digest that he was ditched,
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poem by Vikrant Jog
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A Rainy Day...
The atmosphere was like a just popped toast,
The had to bear it and each felt the burning roast,
The sky was pleasantly arrogant and arrogantly clear,
Soaked the sweats and peasants wiped off their tears,
Suddenly the blue canvas was painted greyish silver,
Who thinks Almighty is a fool, he is far more clever,
Eyes of all desired pretty monsoon showers,
It turned a happy day and breeze shook the flowers,
The monsoon winds were heavenly blessed,
Every twig and bloom were fantastically dressed,
And then the first water dropp fell on the soil,
So nice the fragrance was and everything went moist,
It was a decent scene coupled with hot coffee mugs,
The rejuvenation streams ran from the pleased to the thugs,
Then it turned a dream's godly sight,
It was a rainbow from hidden sun's light,
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poem by Vikrant Jog
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