By
Nikhil Parekh
Author Biography
Nikhil Parekh , ( born August 27 , 1977 ) , from Ahmedabad ,
India - is a Love Poet and 10 time National Record holder for his
Poetry with the Limca Book of Records India limcabookofrecords.in , which is India's Best Book of Records ,
also Ranked 2nd in the World officially to Guinness Book of
World Records . He is an author of - ' LONGEST BOOK written
by a mortal - COLLECTED POETRY ' , which has a Print Length
of 5254 pages on the Amazon Kindle .
The Poet's style of Poetry / literature is unique and has never
ever been written before or experimented on the mortal planet
by any mortal . Though his Poetry / literature is normal and
natural .
CONTENTS
1. LIFES A BRILLIANT MIXTURE OF IT ALL
2. SYMPATHY IS WORSE THAN DEATH.
3. PATIENCE-THE GREATEST ARTIST
4. FREE
5. MODERN DAY DEVIL- MONEY
6. FANTASY
7. IN MY SEARCH FOR LOVE.
8. MY POETRY
9. POINTING BACK- QUESTIONINGLY AND
UNFORGIVABLY AT YOU
10. INDIFFERENCE-THE GREATEST DIFFERENCE
11. DISASTROUSLY ABANDONED ME
12. YOU'D DEFINITELY HAVE TO COME BACK 'TOBBY'
DARLING
13. TOBBYMY DARLING EVERYBODY
14. 31ST DECEMBERMY ULTIMATE HERO.
15. EVERYTIME-AFTER I MADE AND ROSE IN THE SPIRIT
OF LOVE
16. DEEP OCEAN OF SECRETS
17. EVERYTIME MY HEART PALPITATED FOR EXISTENCE
18. HE WHO DEFINITELY KNEW THAT HE'D DIE.
19. WHEN I WASN'T WRITING POETRY.
20. BRUTALLY BROKEN HEART
21 JUST WHERE WERE YOU?
22. IN OUR SUCCEEDING LIVES
23. DANCE UPON EVERY CHANCE.
24. KILL THE SMOKE. STAMP THE CIGARETTE. QUIT
SMOKING FOREVER.
25. MAN-THE BIGGEST HYPOCRITE
26. WRITING POETRY
27. SWEAT BATH
28. HUMAN EMOTIONS
29. MIRACLE WARMTH
30. THROUGH THE EYES OF NEWLY BORN RAT
31. OPEN MOUTHED YAWN
32. WHAT IS THE USE
33. FANTASY MEAL
34. BEAUTY IN PURE CANDLELIGHT
4. FREE
Free. The very word perpetuated even the most hopelessly
deadened persona; forever and ever and ever; with rays of
magically unfettered and inimitably priceless hope,
Free. The very word made every organism profusely delve into
the realms of
sensuousness; forever and ever and ever realize that it was the
ardor of faithfulness that re-christened and added new
dimensions to existence,
But did you realize; that for getting and acquiring everything on
this gigantic planet for Free; one has to first and foremost
undergo the most xcruciating of pains to take birth; and then
pay the price of life.
6. FANTASY
8. MY POETRY
Nothing above it; not even an infinitesimal iota towering above
its majestically untainted and gloriously unhindered swirl,
Nothing below it; not even a mercurial iota lurking beneath its
fantastically pristine and sensuously enthralling identity,
Nothing antagonistic to it; not even an inconspicuous shade
contradicting its bountifully emollient and triumphantly benign
ramifications,
Nothing to the right of it; not even a transient degree swerving
from its effulgently mellifluous and timelessly ecstatic shadow,
Nothing to the left of it; not even an ethereal millimeter away
from its victoriously beautiful and interminably poignant
cascade,
Nothing overlapping it; not even the most invisible whisker
trying to obscure its ebulliently virile and royally unassailable
luminescence,
Nothing sidelining it; not even the most obfuscated ingredient of
royalty attempting to devour its altruistically brilliant and
impregnably sparkling integrity,
Nothing overlooking it; not even an ephemeral molecule of
indifference to its fervently undefeated and unconquerably
ubiquitous caress,
Nothing victimizing it; not even an invisible ingredient of
venomous commercialism trying to ensnare its uninhibitedly
magical and voluptuously fecund wings,
Nothing beyond it; not even a diminutive speck of tantalizing
mirage; trying to seductively lure beyond its beautifully
sculptured and unbelievably enamoring contours,
Whether you parasitically pointed it; to your very own ailing and
disabled parents; for not perpetuating every vein of yours with
the best currency and wine; even as they breathed their last
moment of existence,
Whether you venomously pointed it; towards the empty sky;
where there lingered not even the most infinitesimal of cloud;
casting solely unrelentingly harsh light and no rain,
Whether you sadistically pointed it; towards all those incessantly
wailing children; orphaned since the very first cry of birth;
disdainfully spending the prime years of childhood in the
nonchalantly fetid dustbin,
Whether you salaciously pointed it; towards the widows
dwelling; whose every aspect of life; now plaintively resembled
the most horrendously shattered forms of glass; indefatigably
quavering in her white robe without her husband,
Whether you sardonically pointed it; towards the penuriously
starving artist; to whom the entire planet had showed its
insanely rude tongue; for interminably philosophizing and
fantasizing; instead of routinely melanging with its
sanctimonious fabric,
Whether you lecherously pointed it; towards the nimble footed
dwarf; who went cadaverously unnoticed; even whilst walking
amidst a inconspicuous horde of red
ants,
Whether you bawdily pointed it; towards the unfortunate blind
man; who possessed coffins of hapless emptiness instead of
eyeballs; for whom life was a mortuary of asphyxiating
blackness; since the very first cry of fresh birth,
Whether you lividly pointed it; towards the unkempt tree; whose
branches uncontrollably wept in the sweltering summer; bereft
of even the tiniest leaf of
compassionate shade,
How was the tree ever related to me in even the most ephemeral
of manner; yet it perpetually ensured that every morbidly
restless nerve of mine; found celestial reprieve in its
compassionately befriending shade,
How was the grass ever related to me in even the most
lackadaisical of manner; yet it perpetually ensured that every
step that my foot traversed; would be amiably welcomed by a
cushion of profoundly undefeated velvetiness,
How was the rain ever related to me in even the most fugitive of
manner; yet it perpetually ensured that every famished pore of
my divested skin; was unconquerably rejuvenated with the
freshness of exotic creation,
How were the horizons ever related to me in even the most
disappearing of manner; yet they perpetually ensured that I was
triggered to imagine beyond the realms of the ordinary; for a
countless more lives yet to come,
How were the deserts ever related to me in even the most
deteriorating of manner; yet they perpetually ensured that my
eyes were treated to the enigmatic vastness of the Lord's
creation; the most astoundingly mouth-watering mirages of all
times,
How was the rainbow ever related to me in even the most
invisible of manner; yet it perpetually ensured that there
palpitated innovation galore; in every beat of my feebly
throbbing heart,
How was the Moon ever related to me in even the most
cloistered of manner; yet it perpetually ensured that the
milkiness of innocuous childhood; always zipped past through
every of my estranged vein,
How was the forest ever related to me in even the most
nonchalant of manner; yet it perpetually ensured that the
innumerable sensitivities and forms of mother nature;
inscrutably lingered in my soul,
Some unceasingly wiped the dust of it; just in order to give each
day of theirs a meaningfully pragmatic start; judiciously
adhering to every conceivable thumb rule of cleanliness
embossed in the scientific textbooks,
Some thoroughly wiped the dust of it; just in order to grant their
otherwise haplessly beleaguered demeanors; that supreme hilt
of sparkling achievement,
Some intransigently wiped the dust of it; just in order to be that
very first infallible pioneering leaf; in the whole new chapter of
bountifully civilized cleanliness,
Some fanatically wiped the dust of it; just in order to sight even
the most infinitesimal curve of their facial contours; in its now
wholesomely brand-new transparently scintillating glass,
Some painstakingly wiped the dust of it; just in order to keep
even the faintest shadows of their existence pollution free;
inhale an air more purer than what could be found in
rhapsodically majestic paradise,
Some maniacally wiped the dust of it; just in order to
wonderfully mollify their everyday habitual rages of exonerating
every speck of grime; to beyond the realms of nothingness,
Some listlessly wiped the dust of it; just in order to expend their
latently thwarted energies into something alien; whilst
profoundly concentrating upon the cherished targets of their
lives,
Some inexhaustibly wiped the dust of it; just in order to grant it
the highest honor of their otherwise impoverished lives; seeking
refuge in its invincibly peaceful contourswhen the rapacious
balderdash of the planet became too devilish to bear,
Some iteratively wiped the dust of it; just in order to tickle the
otherwise robotically estranged hair of their nostrils; with the
unabashedly merry-making particles that bellowed in a jiffy
inside,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst toiling towards their dreams of becoming the richest man;
with the last ounce of power in their bones eventually
succumbing to the most unthinkably murderous rat-raced
exhaustion,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst fast asleep past ghoulish midnight; with the most
dreadfully maiming nightmares of all times snapping the last
fangs of their inimitable breath,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst clambering towards the ultimate peak of Everest;
ruthlessly devoured by the unstoppable onslaught of the
avalanche and the heartlessly freezing wind,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst giving miraculous birth to more of their own; with the
excruciating pains of labor silencing the tiniest cry to palpitate
in their souls,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst undergoing the wrath of morbid betrayal; with their
breaths naturally ending beforethey could dare view their
beloved being passionately embraced and caressed in alien
arms,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst speeding on the express highways; when clashing metal to
brutal metal would foment such an acrimonious ball of fireas
never witnessed in history before,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst stepping out to earn their own bread; with the
treacherously parasitic attitude of people aroundextricating
the very last droplet of their innocuous blood,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst the earthquake suddenly struck; being cold-bloodedly
sucked into the horrendously fulminating belly of the earth
where there graves lay already dug,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst strapped to the exuberant parachute; with the ferociously
plundering storm rendering them wailing and winglessin their
uncontrolled descent towards murderous stony ground,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst facing the relentlessly inhuman torture by the police; as
they mustered up all their non-existent courage to divulge the
devil hidden in their dastardly souls,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst anticipating their final examination results; with the
feeblest contingency of a failure and the flagrant exoneration by
the society thereafter; cruelly asphyxiating each of their
heartbeat in their chests,
There were an infinite who thought that they might perhaps die;
whilst attempting to change the course of their otherwise
satanic destiny; with the irrefutably pre-destined sinking them
deeper and deeper into their graves-the harder they tried to
redefine and revolutionize time,
And then I met him; uncontrollably trembling and slavering in
the mortuaries of uncertaintyhe who definitely knew that he'd
die; as he'd shared just a few idiosyncratically weak moments of
his with his spouse; a few moments which he wanted to entirely
erase from the chapter of his impoverished life-but she on the
other hand was waiting like a famished tigress to repeat the
same to him at the tiniest human error he committed; and
without the slightest of reason or rhyme.
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
the fragrance of the seasonal lotus; which suddenly sprouted out
of nowhere in the middle of livid slush; and yet miraculously
enlightened every frazzled eyeball alive,
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
the very first droplet of rain which cascaded from sensuously
cloudy sky; inexplicably tracing a countless of their past
existence in its pristine glimmer,
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
the ladders of distant friendship; which though being continents
and generations apart; always kept them hopeful of hearing a
compassionately cheerful voice from the other end,
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
that befuddling magicians wand; which appeared only at its own
will; but when it did-it perpetuated in them a brand new fervor
to exuberantly exist,
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
the haphazardly incongruous lines of their palms; which
incessantly whetted their appetite for the very best to yet arrive
in their severely devastated lives,
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
the parsimonious trickle of fantasies that time and again tickled
their brain; making them experience undisguised utopiaright
here on planet earth itself,
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
the blissfully tranquilizing shadows of serenity; which
majestically calmed their nomadically beleaguered soles with the
true panacea of life,
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
the oars of untamed adventure; which at times unflinchingly
stood; yet at times pathetically drowned to the rock bottom of
worthless clay-as the storm viciously struck out of nowhere,
There were some who spent their entire lives; leaning solely on
the cry of every divinely new-born infant; which reached them
light.
He thanked the tree to no end for providing him the most blissful
shade of his life; wading all his worries to an eternal rest as he
uninhibitedly slept on its motherly trunk,
Whilst the same man intransigently abused the same tree for
becoming an infuriating hindrance; as he frantically searched for
his beloved amidst the fathomless network of forest grapevines;
branches; stalks and leaf.
He thanked the gigantic waves till his last trace of voice; for
rhythmically lifting his boat high and handsome towards the sky;
with poetically vivacious strokes galore,
Whilst the same man bawdily abused the same waves for
betraying him as he sank to the rock bottom of the ocean with
his boat; suddenly not able to withstand the undefeated
flamboyancy of the waves anymore.
He thanked the surreally silent night with all his might; for
giving him that much needed inevitable reprieve from the
vagaries of this planet; where every robotic morning of worry led
him to think only suicide,
Whilst the same man unsparingly abused the same night for
rendering him in a state of abject loneliness; deserting him in
fear of being indiscriminately robbed as he incoherently babbled
with the winds.
He thanked the unflinchingly straight walls with tears of
gratitude in his eyes; for being his best and most faithful
companion; as he talked to them when the entire world shunted
and made parodies of his eccentric delights,
Whilst the same man vindictively abused the same walls for
badly bruising his nose and imprisoning him till eternity; each
time he tried to run and feel the fresh atmosphere; outside.
He thanked the fathomless desert for triggering his imagination
to the most unprecedented limits; as the endless expanse of
golden sands made him a spontaneous artist filled with prolific
joy of the living kind,
Whilst the same man inconsolably abused the same desert for
making him completely lose his moorings; hopelessly stranding
him amidst a labyrinth of only dust; as he winced to take on the
intensity which kept proliferating leaps and bounds; till the time
it existed,
Writing poetry is like an undefeated zealous wave; which rose
yet again; victoriously undulating and high towards blue sky;
even after being reduced to nothingness- clashing against the
merciless grey rocks,
Writing poetry is like uninhibitedly dancing upon every chance
that life offered; expending every ounce of trapped frustration in
the nerve wrecked body; to blend in impregnable oneness with
the fathomless atmosphere,
Writing poetry is like falling deeper and deeper into the valley of
Immortal love; a love which made you feel alive without a grain
of food in your body; as it became your sole reason; elixir;
direction and adventure to survive.
The End .