• jeitendra_sharma 6w

    Instrumental reality

    no rules for a masterpiece
    a violin in the background
    hearing and uttering nonsense
    dancing with the flow of time
    as wild as chaos in the galaxies
    paints on the canvas
    dropping uncertainty
    uncovering the class of a master
    flowing effortlessly
    colorful and alive,

    beauty isn't priceless
    to create order
    one has to destroy
    either it is love or hate
    each symphony has a price
    creation of Gods
    demand drops of blood
    no matter if one is innocent or guilty
    powerful will decided
    rules can't create
    it ushers the destruction
    blasphemy after Gods
    dictator after revolution
    Peace after war
    corpse near the seashore
    guns and grenade
    mutilated bodies
    waiting to dispose
    a silence that can kill one
    rushing into blood
    the agony of loved ones,

    writing such stories
    with the ink that costs more than blood
    the crucifixion of liberal minds
    nail in the thoughts
    waiting for 'day three'
    hoping to see them alive
    burning of beautiful words
    a world full of hatred
    love is forbidden
    can't touch others 'untouchability'
    no value to human lives
    starving to the deaths
    to create a powerful world
    then to sustain the power
    let them die in hunger
    who cares about those filthy creatures
    no justice to black skin
    let them suffer in slavery
    the supremacy of color indeed a tragedy,

    to create something great of marbles
    willing to sacrifice thousands of arms
    all hail to the king of kings
    ready to die under a colorless flags
    as slaves can't see the color other than red
    indeed a color of life and sacrifice
    a color of hunger and poverty
    much better than white as no stain on it
    peace can't be achieved without it
    to create extreme white
    we have to hide those red stains on it,

    let the world burn and suffer
    a beautiful chaos
    an orderless society
    tyrant mindless creature
    achieving equality
    eliminating the unequal
    to end the poverty
    let them starve to death
    scars the memories
    who wished to rebel
    hang them publicly
    as no one would protest again
    fill their bodies with bullet
    dig their graves bury them alive
    so they suffer to catch a breath
    annihilate the world
    to justify the ego of a few
    let the violin play in the background
    as no other instrument is as real as it is,