Hell in a freezer
Man can do what he wants
When he wants what he does.
Most shoes are strapped against the foot’s will.
Merriment and misery mostly managed as an oxymoron.
Such nostalgic epilogue.
Are there more ants than we have children?
If there are,
Is the child not supposed to be the boss?
If that’s true,
How plucky is the Ants’ virus to sanction the child’s paralysis.
For hours or days, weeks or months, years or forever?
There she stood transfixed,
Shivering in steaming perspiration.
Right at the centre of a frosty solar perplexity.
Oh life! She screamed,
Only to see no sound
Oh heavens! She glanced up,
Only to hear no sky.
There goes the train’s whistle
Here comes unicorns dreams
There lies the salvation
There escapes the revelation
Here stays the temptation.
All for the course of what nation?
This is our contemplation.
One notion spells out the birth of one nation.
Nation then procreates;
Breeding boastless billions of her ancestor.
So she stops staying single
someone said something about fruitfulness and multiplication.
On goes the calculation
Till the entire equation equals a deceitful division.
Hence the offsprings;
Spring less to stay on
Work less to drive more
Cash less to spend scores
Think less to act sore
Eat less to show off
Act less deeds to boast of.
Performing the rites and chores of a refrigerator,
In the chamber wise labyrinths of a maze like incubator.