The brimful Box was beyond exhaustion, It couldn’t handle constricted spaces anymore, It had interesting things to show, And pent-up ideas to grow. The busied milieu had become such a rut, That it had become impossible for the Box to make the cut; It had been a long time since it had last vented its
Worthless facts I detest alot, Abitrary numbers I see no sense cramming in, Theoretical trash, that is better off thrashed, Better, give me a Kafka, Nietzsche or a Nabokov, Appended with logic, brains and a beautiful bow, I promise to devour it like a pirate, Hunting for an invaluable treasure-trove.
The searing heat is still on, But the debilitating dust is all but gone; The threat has been reduced to nada, But there still remain small pockets of adversarial armada; The traffic and commotion have altogether vanished And the surroundings now seem more or less polished; Hardships have decreased manifold, And pain is now slowly
I now realize the importance of a weekend, And can start treating it as a Reverend, Unbeknownst to one and all, The relentless efforts that I put in all the while, Sweating it out, literally, Without batting an eyelid, Succumbing to dark circles for a while, Before giving them the boot, Making every second count,
Life is a bitch, Karma always precipitates a hitch And could perhaps have you fall into a ditch; It is also not advisable to become a snitch, Whereby even a single glitch Could utterly ruin your sitch And transform you into a overnight witch Instead of your hoped-for magnate, rich; So, no matter how bad
Consider this not a boast, As it is in no way a toast: When Melbourne has been my host, Practically, every single day has been an incorrigible roast; Taking the form of a crucible of endurance at times, And a game of forbearance during others, It has perpetually been a tribulation of the highest order;
Ask yourself a question today, Whatever you do the whole day, Who do you do it for? For that special one? For your posterity? Well, these are obvious choices, Now try looking slightly beneath the surface, Notice anything? If not, Just gaze into the mirror for a second, Look at yourself, All tall and grown
Life is a race, Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, Whatever is the case, Just never slow your pace, For – you will always get a chance to hit an ace. There will be times, When you’ll have to endure a winless streak, But, let it not make you meek, Instead, take this as an
From the face of it, Life in Melbourne may seem all rosy, But, to be honest, It’s far from a doozy; You grind the whole day, Yet, at the end of the day, You still find yourself in dismay; You try and wrap up all your pending tasks, Yet, eventually, You find yourself increasing your
This era may be perilous ‘Coz of the widespread strife; The times may be uncertain ‘Coz of the spread of insufferable misery; Our life may be insecure, ‘Coz of the pervasion of antisocial elements in the society; Our freedom may be fettered ‘Coz of the law’s bigoted shackles; Our growth might be hindered By people’s
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