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Manoj Vijayakumar Poem
Touch wood Baby! wish you a happy new year,
Blowing cheerful cacophony in your ear.
Fling aside the sadistic sorrow my dear,
Let us clear from your mind, the infertile fear.
Life is not a cuban cigar,
As time passes you wont wear,
So, stop the clarion cry that you are on sear.
A black suite with diamonds studded as they appear,
To heal it, bald sun works restlessly and he might retire,
Raise yourself there, as a glowing sapphire.
Set your standards farther, bigger and higher,
Insurrection against all odds, maketh you not to cower.
At logger heads dont stagnate as a fence sitter,
Decide once, move ahead, iron hearts never jitter.
Resusciate the bloodied life and place it safer,
Reinvigorate the mummified hope and make it merrier.
Prove your antagonists rants as a classic sattire.
Sunny days ahead, dont roam around without a nice attire,
As you will be noticed as a superstar of this year.
Raise the toast, once again, happy new year,
Nothing on earth could belittle our cheer.
Copyright © Manoj Vijayakumar | Year Posted 2011
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Manoj Vijayakumar Poem
Iam just zero,
not a zest hero.
The one,
uplifts this none.
Made me a valued limitless ton,
and as a rising sun.
Copyright © Manoj Vijayakumar | Year Posted 2012
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Manoj Vijayakumar Poem
This time, I sing the praise of ecclesiatical love.
Though not esoteric, thou followers never allow
to think it beyond the sinister bodily move.
O' never touch it, that is a sacred cow!
which makes me wonder what is love?
When that thing has gotten so low; i vow
there is something that i got to show.
I love my love, told my friend when i quizzed,
cherished his nth love. But just before kissed
his (n-1)th love, ritualised the MoU and finally buried.
Love is an ocean claimed my friend, who spews
everytime when tasted water. Deep down the ocean he dives,
thrives but when reached the brackish lagoons,he skews.
Love is blind told another, when she is not bothered
of her anorexic size zero- a licence to get tethered?
Happily abandoned their loved parents as they are feathered.
Indeed she showered her love on her parents at an early stage
Her love just slithered when she got a posh and lovely date.
The immortal of the mortals, you named it love
an oaf's hormonal misfiring? galloping generaton's conduit?
smokescreen to lust? passport to brain's prostration?
an unplugged persecution? spielberg's avtar?
a pandora's box? a frankenstein monster? a nelson's eye?
a monkey on your back? or a touch screen monitor?
geez! Iam still in an ambivalent mood!
Is love - greek's Eros? chaldean's shedu?
Freud's ***** envy? oedipus complex?
electra complex? legitimate sex addiction?
a parent's affection, strictly and only, to their child -
then why the missing gender?
Is that the worm's eye view of an eagle? or
just the eagle's eye view of a worm?
As usual, my instinct blossomed and spread the scent of wisdom
love is a connecting wood in a ladder between the unconnected two
love is honey in the life of a bee and a flower
love is bliss in devotee and the divine
love is thirst for a man in the desert
love is sugar in a juicy mix of lime and water
love is also the fuddle of a drunkard with the drink
Copyright © Manoj Vijayakumar | Year Posted 2011
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Manoj Vijayakumar Poem
Hundreds quizzed and all perplexed
Not even one understood
for my answer to their only question
who is your source?
Nonetheless iam not afraid and
dared to think beyond the surreal truth
But to tell the truth of truth; when
my positron brains resisted to glow
in utter silence, words were muffled;
tiny eyes closed to let silver droplets
like a shell spewing pearls
my mind protested to tell the truth
Thy atheists call them nothing and blatant lies
Thy theists call them everything and only truth
it is the one and only one
the absolute bliss and perfect consciousness
the immortal jiva and formless siva
of all sorts of personality imbibed
yet remianining untouched
like a grain of sand on marble floor
scornful, but completely harmless
dreadful, yet absolutely blissful
speechless, nonetheless only source of knowledge
drunkyard, however has infinite worshippers
supreme, still survives in graveyard
how can i tell his elegant posture
when he is formless in nature
how can i tell his words of divinity
when he conveys through the voice
sans words, vowels and emotions
how can i tell his shape or size
when he pervades cosmos
Gave his life part to his wife
gave his yogas to the seven sages
gave enlightenment to limitless devotees
who happened to worship him with sheer love
o' my father! do i stand one among them?
you blessed even a spider,
makes me wonder iam no superior than a spider
O' blessed spider!
could you find whether iam in his good books?
O' the buzzing bees whizzing in his garland
ask him, my future endeavours;
the tomb that took years to construct,
is now in shatters as donkey's grassland;
the castle that i raised by losing myself
is now burning along with nero's fire;
the mountains that i carefully chiseled,
is cleared as debris in one's footpath
whilst nothing to live for and willing to die
with nothing to gain and willing to loss
in dying hope and fading passion
and not willing to live under
the treasured memories of past glories
from idol mind in heaven's workshop
crying from heart with pain
O! the blessed Bees
Endeavor's mission was over
is my mission's endeavor over?
the project met a deadly fate
out of the triumphant gate
seething out of defeat; I can't
see things with clouded eyes
what are the lessons
from these trials and tribulations?
fighting hard amidst vagueness
living life amidst fakeness
thriving spirits amidst others doubtfulness
lifting face amidst lifeless life
butchering slavery amidst donkey's life
daring bravery amidst cocoon's nest
loving siva amidst crying wolf
for nothing to gain but willing to loose
Copyright © Manoj Vijayakumar | Year Posted 2011
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