Call me a lump of infinitesimally squashed tomato; or
Call me the diminutive tip of a sordidly despicable
matchstick rotting in the abominably fetid garbage
heap,

Call me a languid spider nonchalantly fretting on the
damp walls; or Call me the wisp of that capriciously
fleeting cloud which didn’t know even the slightest of
how to enchantingly rain,

Call me an insipid molecule of threadbare dust being
blown to far and obsolete places with the tiniest
draught of wind; or Call me a preposterously
pot-bellied whale devouring countless innocent in a
single mouthful,

Call me a ghastily unforgiving demon blowing my
worthless trumpet at will; or Call me a lecherous
parasite sucking innocuous blood even as midnight
unfurled into the scintillatingly spell binding day,

Call me a baseless moron staring purposelessly into
boundless bits of blue sky; or Call me a sleazily mud
coated pig aimlessly wandering without even
contributing an ethereal iota to the fabric of this
colossal planet,

Call me an insane lunatic paying a wholesomely deaf
ear to the inclement orders of the conventional
society; or Call me an irately impudent brat;
indiscriminately feasting on the wealth of my
sacrosanct ancestors,

Call me an invidious ant horrifically stinging the
chapter of glorious existence; or Call me the
grotesquely menacing crocodiles tooth ever ready to
pulverize anything in vicinity; to inconsequential
pulp,

Call me stray gutter water meaninglessly gushing
across the dusty street; or Call me uxoriously fanatic
behind the tantalizingly raunchy seductress,

Call me a graveyard of utterly deplorably loneliness;
or Call me a lackadaisically nonsensical flower
without even the most obfuscated insinuation of scent,

Call me a dastardly traitor turning my back to my
sacred motherland; or Call me a wave of unendingly
treacherous obsession which could never ever end,

Call me a pugnacious insect buzzing in cacophonically
discordant incoherence when the world slept; or Call
me a demon having a gargantuan appetite for every
insidious thing in the chapter of vibrant life,

Call me the most curled bristle of the sweepers
avaricious broomstick; or Call me a complete misfit to
symbiotically exist with the harmoniously melodious
society,

Call me a miserably maimed organism without hands and
feet; or Call me abysmally dumb when it came to
matters of synergistic pragmatism,

Call me a punitive curse for the trajectory of this
boundless planet; or Call me a bizarre eunuch
pathetically unable to procreate even an element of my
own kind,

Call me a brutally massacred and orphaned egg; or Call
me the disdainfully abhorrent grime on the shoe; which
intractably refused to move even an mercurial inch,

Call me a ludicrously fading reflection eventually
blending with the oblivious horizons; or Call me an
impotently undulating ocean without even the tiniest
trace of poignantly ravishing salt,

Call me a disastrously slithering fish without any aim
or direction; or Call me a destructive volcano of
negative energy; born only to annihilate
civilizations to traceless ash,

Call me gory impediment for one and all on this globe
alike; or Call me a ghoulishly venomous spirit
spreading its remorseful jinx even centuries after
veritable death,


And you could Call me by whatever name that you could
ever conceive;
But for those of you who like me; and even for all
those of you who detested even the most remote
fraction of my quavering shadow; I would still and
forever remain the way I am today; immortally bonded
with love; immortally bonded with a fathomless
entrenchment of poetry; poetry and just; sensuously
divine poetry….


(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.