THE TABOO TRADERS

Societies with taboos
Societies with lesser taboos
Words with appendages
Used to serve purposes

Parasitic socialites
Narcissist reformers
Playing for attention
Vying to gain traction

Scavenging guardians
Scheming watchmen
The extracting traders
The able masqueraders

Social niceties, and,
Social hibernations
Social manipulation,
And, social degradation

The vocal evil
The cunning vigil
The silent devil
The two-faced shrill

The cocktail served neat
Loaded full and extra sweet
Taboos and lesser taboos
And the business as such

The social mercenaries
With customized taboos
In the green already marked
Targets they find aplenty

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

SUCH DECISIONS WERE NEVER FOR YOUR OBEISANCE

If possible,

Don’t let there be,

The moment of such decisions,

Imposed on you, selfishly,

Inflicting and demanding,

With no care for you,

Having no thoughts of you,

See where your peace is,

Find the harmony of your soul,

O’ life, know where your spirit is,

Don’t listen to such decisions,

Yes, you cared for,

But such decisions,

Were never for your obeisance,

What if,

Your thoughts still go back,

What if,

Your thinking still comes to a silence,

If possible,

Don’t pain yourself anymore,

Don’t hurt your peace anymore..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

GAMES LIFE PLAYS – HOW RECKLESS A LIFE CAN BECOME..

‘How reckless life is?’
Vs
‘How reckless a life can be?’ 

— The games the existence plays with the identities..

— Silly pursuits of life when the spirit of living was staring at death..

— And life recklessly made you love the fatalist in you..

— And you recklessly followed the fictions of life..

‘The games that were to be played differently.’
Vs
‘The games that were not to be played.’

— How reckless a life becomes..

— Mutilating its own soul while playing with others..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

THE READING WAS MISCHIEVOUS..

The taxi was not driven.
The driver was not smitten.
The ginger was maniacal.
The mister was on sabbatical.
The ride was jumping, groovy.
The guide was thumping, curvy.
The taxi was bubbly high.
The driver was suitably shy.
The drive was exciting.
The driveway was not enticing.
The ginger was on fire.
The mister saw the wire.
The ride was in place.
The guide was not in race.
The reading was mischievous.
The payback was impervious.
The taxi was not driven.
The words were not given.
The driver was not smitten.

🙂

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

A CATACLYSMIC CHANGE INDEED IT WAS..

There was something moving inside him. He told himself a cataclysmic change indeed it was bringing out the devil in flashes.

Blocks were drifting. The stillborn was already past its prime.

He felt he was vacated suddenly but couldn’t find the free space inside when he needed to be into.

The style, the substance, and its eerie similarity to the time when it was a dark run of circumstances, all were telling him a tale told and foretold, throughout his life, if he could say it so, if he could encapsulate the moments in the birth of that life of him, a life that was somehow a sordid tale of misunderstanding, manipulation, betrayal and stabbing.

He was left bruised, tormented, traumatized.

Times were shifting. Acting desperately, he tried to sift through the mess he was thrown into to make sense of what was happening, why it was happening.

His efforts, his commitment to the continuity, his sincerity to the cause, his innocence to the identities, his conscience for the individualities, every person of him was so brutally traded off, so mercilessly killed, as if he had no identity, as if he never had an existence.

And he lived for his identity only. And he lived for making a meaningful existence of him only.

And he was left bleeding, his soul manipulated, compromised and hurt.

The devil had the chance to take him over, to do with him all he had not been able to do. And his mischievousness came with

The darkness ran deep, going well into the past. The dreadful bonhomie of the evil spirit was singing in fusion with the voice of his detractor.

A cataclysmic change imposed on him, forced on his identity. He was staring at the odds of annihilation of his soul.

He was thus calling for the survivor in him desperately.

And then, he saw the light.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

LET THE DESTINY PLAY WITH YOU AT LEAST ONCE..

Let The Destiny Play With You

 

“Let the destiny play with you at least once.
Let it do the ugliest things to you.
That will be a lifetime of experience.
That will be the learning unparalleled.
Marking betrayers, sympathisers, friends, bystanders.
Mark them and don’t forget.
That will make you a better and stronger soul.”

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/