The Fight Within

Who is tasked with running of the world?
Whose ideals should humanity follow?
What is society without tolerance?
What is a mind without a choice?

Perched on the lush green tree,
In the middle of the field,
It’s eyes scouted the scene
Waiting for the next prey to yield.

There was much clamour,
Boisterous loud noises,
When men in fine armour
Burnt faith in to ashes.

Spitting and spewing hatred
With every gasp of breath;
Love’s defence was truly shattered
Whilst they did fight to their death!

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The Last One Standing

What would it feel to be the last of the human race!

The dark liquid like substance kept hitting his leg as if it wanted him to stay with it forever. The loneliness was so prevalent that even the stinking sea seemed to crave for attention. And he was the odd man out; the living amongst the dead and the pile of junk.

The last human he had seen was a half dead woman lying in the ditches and that was months ago. Slowly he had lost count of time. It seemed to have lost its meaning. For him it just dragged on. He was merely surviving, just out of hope that someday he’ll meet another living being… he was there just for the heck of it!

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Terrorism

I only wish these masterminds, spend their time and effort on something worthwhile!

The word sums it all up, I guess. An unfortunate and unforeseen force, created by the arms race; there is no stopping it now for it spreads its stink all directions. A modern day terrorist need not be a bearded man with Arab clothing and a Kalashnikov. Of course such silhouettes still exist, but like any group with extreme intentions they are learning the act of survival.

You meet Sam at the XY airport – a guy who looks handsome, intelligent, well learned, and well mannered and most importantly can look straight into your eyes while striking a conversation. He has to board his plane and departs in haste and quickly blows the plane to smithereens!

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The Great Puppet Show

And the puppets continue to believe they are the masters of themselves…

The puppets dangle from the strings,
The puppets are here to dance,
Moving to every little movement
The puppeteer decides to make.

The puppeteer swings a thread,
Cuts another, and entwines two in one;
The puppets know not what is next,
For, there are no rules to this game.

They have no senses, but believe they do,
For the puppeteer is a master at this play.
To think with one end and survive with another,
That’s all there is to this silly little game!

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All The World’s A Stage

Simple wit (if I can say so). Hope it is understood.

God was in a good mood and decided to grant the wish of the 3 brothers who were austere devotees…

You can ask for just one wish, but no more; Ask for yourself and no one else” God commanded the 3 brothers.

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