Whatever happens within an artist,
An artist try to divulge it through words.colors.marble.music.
These very words.colors.marble.music
help an artist to divulge that happening within artist.
If artists divulge that happening through words
They called poets.
If an artists divulge that happening through colours
They called painters
If an artists divulge that happening through marble stone
They called sculptors
If an artists divulge that happening through music
They called composers
Remember the words. the music. The marble stone and the colours are not a true authentic art,
But just the instruments to divulge that happening.
That happening within the artists is what true and purest form of art called

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There are many artistic minds in world
Vomits the bedlam words of thoughts
Like mad man with colors held a brush
And a beautiful canvas into chaos turn

And there is many heartful colors and inks
Whose art is unruly senses of emotions
Like an eruption of krakatoa
In the name of soothing art on blank paper

Never I witnessed the truest art of art
An art which cometh from being of silence dungeon

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Often I think how hard is ticking this legs
To face the thorny reality with marching mind
When collide with reality this very mind
With filled hunting chaos of confusion and fear
Will scares you like darkest hades ground

My inner subtle tongue louder into turn
The mind settled down awareness of mine
And changed the wing of aware to the very mind
Watching those hunting confusions and fear

How true my inner godly tongue is
It talks like heavenly lips of God, and said
If you fail to be aware in this things of life,
Then suicide will be your only ambrosia become

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How true taste physical pain of flavours
How real it is. Like ev'ry morrow sun
After a spreaded dreary hades dark hours
Troding on dropless furnace land of desert
Tasting purest nectar of honey raw

How untrue taste the flavours of mindful pain
Which born out of thine unruly mind
On emptied plate having delicious supper
Opening the heaven gates in dream of mid night
A mirage on thirsty land like look
For the eyes of infinite troding mind

The pain of physical is there and true
Like blue curtain over heads of ours
That morrow singing songs of nature

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O darlo on darkling dome
How sweetly shine thine cracks
In even devouring light of day
Here below thee, all the hearts
Like infant crying and Othello play
When ever i behold thine cracks
Felt Dipping A sweet honey raw light

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Loving thine inch of every atom
O, how greatly ye beauty gleam
Verses of Shakespeare thance sweet
Every inch of thine an ode of john keat

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O marching beats
Sing not her love
Thine loving songs
Hemlock for now

She found a garden
And gardener of new
For blooming her roses

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I believe on the God
The very God is universal.
I do not believe shiva.brahma.vishnu.
Allah.jesus.
The very God is universal.
Shiva Brahma Vishnu. Allah. Jesus.
Is personal

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People's often make poetry
As their passion or hobby
Because poetry doesn't earn
Beautiful things are priceless
Make it as your first love
Your first preference as job

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What misty cloud tis is
Which cover'd morrow veil as
Mein pen with clear night sky
With no twinkling firefly

Tis empty poesie space
Bewail sighing for heart
Oh poesie ye cover'd vast land
Thence beings around my life
Oh poesie thou absence lightless grace

Nothing wilt fillest space of ye
Nor would i welcome alter thing
My heart a waveless sea
What labour i dost without thee
Come to me poesie fill my heart with ye

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