The Eighth Sin- Betrayal!

Aah, the seven sins of humanity. Greed, sloth, gluttony, lust, pride, wrath and envy. The sins that defiled and evolved humans. The sins that of hell. The demonic association.

But these sins have ignored one of the most dangerous one. Maybe we all consider the The Eighth Sin to be destructive and yet in the seven sins it doesn’t have any place. The sin that pierces the heart, the soul, the shell of a human is the sin of betrayal.

If we talk about the early poet, Dante Alighieri. Then we know what the commotion is about betrayal. The sins might can form a web and yet the sin of betrayal will be the spider prowling in the center. Maybe that’s why, Dante knew or observed, Betrayal was the worst. And he placed Betrayal at the bottom of his 9 circles of hell in Divine Comedy, Inferno.

This sin, as puny it sounds is the most destructive. The sin that can make wrath look like child’s cry. This sin of betrayal is the one I have met again and again in my life, that is just my beginning in this charade of promises.

Why not Betrayal be a sin? Why should it be the worst? You know one of the things divine to humanity is the power of trust. You trust another human being without peaking into his mind and you make that human a part of your life.

But what if, the gaining of trust is all just an act? What if, it’s the fruit to lure residing in the bush of poison ivy? What if, the person who knows your weakness turns against you in order to fulfill some sort of evil agenda?

You will be shattered, stomped upon, crushed, within a second. You will refuse to believe in humanity, you will reject everyone, you will be an oscillating object oscillating with the thrust of wind. The dreams that you wished to lived will become the rope around your neck tied to the gallows pole and even if you try to move forward the rope will suffocate you slowly. Your smile will become a mask, you will have a broken visage and you will view everything as a mere mirage.

This sin should be the worst of all, Maybe Dante met this sin in his life and knew how hard it is to pluck out the piquer from back.

Thanks for reading.

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Broken heart.

Broken heart, torn apart, in this world of promises,
From lies to stories from agony to glory,
There isn’t a chapter written without glossiness.

There came many in the miserable life of mine,
Few stayed in Sun, few backed me up, few refused to incline,
Without the heart, I was torn part, in this world of promises.

Just in case..
if I die, if your tears recluse and shy.
If your heart as well deny,
To be a witness of the memories we shared,
To jerk off the knot we tied,
To be a wolf in the sheep’s hide,

You should put a stake in your heart,
Come to my funeral without drifting apart,
There will be cake, there will be wine,
I’ll be waiting in the casket of mine.

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Books! The sole allies.

Books can accompany us everywhere. Books are patient where we are slow to understand, allow us to go over the hard parts as many times as we wish, and are never critical of our lapses. Books are key to understanding the world and participating in a democratic society

-The Demon haunted world-Science As a candle in the dark.

This verse taken from the book that will compile the human mind in a way that it dreamt of.

From my personal experience I don’t think that any combination of words could have explained the meaning and the role of books in our life.

Books are the sole allies of every curious mind. They can form a fort to protect the mind and as well as provide enough windows to let liberation enter with ease. These books that we once cramped to get good grades are the necessity of evolution. These very books can create worlds and also demolish the world we live in with hippocratic morals.

Books are not just tools to help attaining good grades, they are not just few words and also they are not for “Nerds” only. Books can soothe a soul as well as heal the scars lashed upon the soul by the immoral and unjust hippocratic regulations of this world.

These books have become my companion in my fight against the darkend mind. May they become your cup of coffee in this world of sleepiness. 

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Song of greed

We need the exuberance of youth,
We dance to the piper’s flute,
We seek what we see,
We do what we preach,
We sow the seeds of hate on our youngs,
We chop off the different tongues,
We teach are kids to be great and brave,
We seek young hands to be enslaved,
We teach our child, that god is one,
We forget the lesson when the war is sung,

All of this is humanity’s creed,
But at the plead,
We want to be freed,
But we will never be able to satiate our greed..

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Because the Night! -a poem. Daily Prompt.

Because the Night is full of lust,
Averted mirage of Sun’s combust,
Alliance with the moon doesn’t matter,
When the lovers of dark come to scatter.

Because the night is full of suspense,
Shielding the lives in admiring pretense,
Alliance with stars becomes a daunt,
When the lovers of dark come to haunt.

Because the night is full of dark,
In that ally, in the next park,
Alliance with insects becomes a ruckus,
When the lovers of dark digest the succus.
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Never Pre-assume!

As I wrote my first poem I was high on my friends’ response. They were enthusiastic and they accepted my work with lots of promise that I will be doing something great.
But reality is cleaner mirror than the anticipated blurry image of dream. It doesn’t matter how deep your articles or pieces of work are if the reader cannot connect with the work. If the message is not interpreted correctly, with a slight variation, whole meaning of the work becomes different and even drastic than the intention formed it.

Here, with 1 month of experience I have learned that it can never be anticipated what a reader might like. It totally depends on the market (readers) who, as a whole set the trend.

So, with my experience here, I have found that it’s never beneficial for any artist to have a predetermined image in their own mindset.

Hence, the Key Takeaway is Never Pre-Assume!

Thanks for reading,

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One little rose.

Red and green slightly above the granite,
Blooming in the mirth of sunlight.
Two colors uniting, shining as glace,
One little rose is guarding this grave.

In the rain, in the rain, when the sky wails,
When the night and day become a jail,
When the gardner of garden forgets this place,
One little rose guards this grave.

In the time of Autumn, weather of the bottom
when the flower is forgotten, in the heap of cotton,
When the garden itself will refuse to embrace,
One little rose will guard this grave.

When the relations of deceased will be perished,
When his memories will no longer be cherished,
When the world will not remember the buried case,
One little rose will guard this grave.

In the torments of storms, in the winters long borne,
In heat of the summer and the bird’s song,
When the memories will be just a phase…
One little rose will guard this grave…

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The man from hell.

So I have descended on this dirt,
What these puny humans call planet earth,

They seem to fight for which religion is peaceful,
They are idiots in my eyes thinking it’s dutiful.

Oh how it is pitiful, how will they learn?
They lose the love and money they earn.

They waste million in war, none in redemption,
They teach kids to hate, not the education.

They are hypocrites in every sense of the word,
Their lust and greed will devour this planet earth.

These idiots will not learn that Gods won’t need them,
Gods never asked them to raise a gun.

God if wanted he could demolish them in snap,
Yet they yap in his name they trap.

They fight in his name, they fight for the fame,
They forgot his children and got indulged in game.

Lucifer need not to annihilate them and descend,
They are all Devils they will soon end.

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Song of death

We are addicted to tell the tale of our misery,
We are so broken that we need magic and mystery,
We need a man by the name of God,
We need to be taught how we got lost,
We need the dreams we need the charade,
We need the the sins and we need to parade,

We need the love and we need the hate,
We refuse to believe that we can be played,
We fight and kill for the sake of peace,
We light candle for our grief,
We need and we want and we desire,
The successful slaves up for hire,

All of this is timely ebb,
But At the edge,
We need to pledge,
We won’t fight for the right path to death

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The “would be bride”.

I smile and smile till I can remember,
For the love we shared in our meet.
I still remember that day of December,
When we exchanged hearts in our greet.

I remember your flush, your twinkling eyes,
Those hair of light and the chuckling grace.
When I sit here, when the water turn to ice,
I forgot my own voice but not your face.

I wished, how I wished that we won’t apart,
How we wished to grow old together, in the slowing time.
I learned through time that love is a craft,
I dreamt of how things would have been fine.

I told myself I should devour my pride,
When I let go the hand of my would be bride.

copyright © Philosophical Pen