A dreamy affair!

The misty mountains called out to me from afar,

As I gingerly peeped through the window of my car.

Far away I saw the climbing terrain, green and dense!

As plastic was yet to make its destroying influence.

I drove past the curves, destroyed by development,

To reach the land that flourished with a native scent!

I drove, eager to reach out to the plenitude of earth,

For, I wished to shed my fatigue and experience rebirth!

It seemed afar and as I drove kept moving farther away!

I wanted to reach there before the sun withdrew his last ray!

I hurried to catch one last glimpse of the land under the sun,

The land that would transport me to the world of real fun!

Away it went farther and farther as I relentlessly drove,

The rugged path and I, really keen to find the treasure trove!

I decided to give my tiny little car a hard push with all my might,

Until I heard my son scream, “You have been talking all night!”

The burden of the unspoken word

Many a hasty word leaves the listener wounded,

While the speaker of the words moves on undaunted!

But there are those men that don’t speak in haste,

Holding themselves back, lest the relationship lay waste!

But their tiny mind oscillates, restless and broken,
Unable to carry the burden of their own words unspoken!
‘Speak up’, their mind tells them, loud and clear,

Only to be drowned by the heart saying, ’they’re dear!’

‘Manipulative!’ cry the hasty speakers of them,

The word echoing the breakdown of their control system!
Those of them who control their own verbal sparks,

Are manipulative, if only, as a reaction to hasty remarks!

Those unspoken words that never left the tongue,

Get sewn to the conscious mind as winners, albeit unsung!

They come out slowly as actions that fail to please

The inflated human ego, that forever demands a hefty fees!

The frustrations of an original thinker!

The earth seems to be revolving around cut and paste.

So much so, originality has become such a waste!

The whole world is spinning around an axis of haste,

Day after hasty day, making dynamic, the human taste!

Whenever a beautiful thought originates in a creative mind,

Elsewhere another steals a thought he could not find!

‘Are we on a wrong path?’ we may ask in sight so hind,

As emotions are fighting a lone battle to make humans bind!

Machines are made that recreate the original in plenitude,

To sell these numbers huge firms get into a frenzy feud!

The winners walk the ramp, with their chart, green hued,

Only to find that for practices not so clean, they’d been sued!

The man that grows the food gets not a grain from his soil,

Hopefully waiting to savor the remains of his wasted  toil!

While these poor food growers, retreat into a helpless coil,

Their food reaches the powerful few, in a sterilized metal foil!

The apes don't limp; the limp ape!