You Die; I Die - Love Poems - Part 3 by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

25. SADLY NO BEATS 

The most disgraceful thing for the skies; was to have their gorgeously fathomless periphery; savagely encrypted by a battalion of ominously heinous clouds,

The most disgraceful thing for the dog; was to have its handsomely harmonious body; brutally kicked by its charismatically revered master,

The most disgraceful thing for the deserts; was to have their boundlessly celestial carpet of glistening sands; inundated with Herculean tons of capriciously insipid water,

The most disgraceful thing for the discotheque; was to have its bombastically sleazy interiors; holistically invaded by blissfully sacrosanct prayer and painstakingly persevering rhyme,

The most disgraceful thing for the forests; was to have their mystically romantic and profusely scented surroundings; heinously perpetuated by obnoxiously acrimonious gas; become a commercial warehouse for monotonously vindictive business magnates,

The most disgraceful thing for the sharks; was to impregnate their preposterously mammoth mouths with diminutively worthless vegetables; slither incessantly

on frigid soil amidst a mountain of; lackadaisically nonchalant seaweed,

The most disgraceful thing for the cow; was to perennially ooze opulently spurious wine from its overwhelmingly divinely teats; replenish its stomach with parsimonious garbage left overs; left by the uncouthly barbaric society for its nocturnal meal,

The most disgraceful thing for the ocean; was to have its ravishingly undulating and timeless expanse of waves; salaciously pervaded upon by hideously gargantuan tankers of morbidly murderous oil,

The most disgraceful thing for the birds; was to have their rhetorically nimble and flamboyantly boisterous demeanor’s incarcerated behind appalling prison bars;

being treacherously bereft of galloping flight,

The most disgraceful thing for the old; was to have their devastatingly ailing bodies being treated like pieces of insanely threadbare shit; being opprobriously castigated from their own dwellings; by their irascibly impudent kin,

The most disgraceful thing for the corpse; was to have its dolorously dreary interiors sagaciously infiltrated by vivaciously sparkling life; bloom into miraculous resplendence; the very word which was a lethal venom for its perilously sinister ears,

The most disgraceful thing for the teacher; was to be belligerently rebuked by his unsurpassable horde of immaculate students; being boycotted with the tag of

“Liar”, for ostensibly no fault of his,

The most disgraceful thing for the athlete; was to disastrously stumble into obdurately mortifying soil; the instant he alighted his robustly sparkling foot;

in electric exuberance from the starting line,

The most disgraceful thing for the writer; was to have his most pricelessly countless volumes of spell binding literature; menacingly excoriated apart into a trillion specks of lackluster dust; the very alphabets which he had so ardently harnessed with his very own; crimson blood,

The most disgraceful thing for the stomach; was to meaninglessly puke out even the last iota of food synergistically entrapped within; after consuming the most harmoniously blessed ingredients of Mother Nature,

The most disgraceful thing for the shadow; was to have its stupendously enigmatic contours lecherously punctured by maniacally concrete civilizations of rigidity; have its silken grace manipulatively trespassed by greedy tycoons,

The most disgraceful thing for the conscience; was to be incomprehensibly burdened by a dungeon of blatantly abhorrent lies; wholesomely vanquish its spirit of irrefutably godly righteousness; at the slightest of greedy provocation,

The most disgraceful thing for existence; was to be indefatigably enshrouded by precarious hurricanes of stagnating death; perpetually relinquish its Omnipotent aura; to the deplorable hell of non-existence,

And the most disgraceful thing for love; was diabolically bellicose betrayal; being viciously slapped by the person it had uninhibitedly devoted its countless lifetimes; being left to wander with solely a remorseful heart; but sadly no beats .