hive of five

They stay ahead in the game

They get all the fame

Hands behind the names

Play together near the Ganges.



Students are exchanging the teachers

For a pair of flying feathers

Vasitvens use people for their dirty work

Their time machine helps them to stay alert



Teacher shows mercy on children

Seldom realizes that he is their means of fun

But he seeks the potential that becomes clairvoyant

He takes for himself the ignorance.



It’s very hard for the children

To find the real master

Children quote Pink Floyd

But without having a clue, what a disaster



Three students, one never waits but is clever

Another patient one but isn’t that great

The third never listens to a word teacher says

Their fights make hard to learn yonder.



Hiding face in the sunshine he enjoys the moods

While his student makes devil’s tools

One life will become others karma

Contraption dogma an enigma.



Rest of students wonder if it’s devotion or desire

They sometimes listen to the wails of the beast

Nobody knows is it a bane or a boon?

Destiny breeds with divine pyre.



If the future is a timed affair

Wonder whether there will be a fare

They’ll know the intent isn’t’ there

Then they’ll follow God’s literature.



When they couldn’t find there their brethren

Finding someone else in their master’s guise

Singing their anthem they all rebel

They retreat when the one rings the bell.



Only one exists among a zillion

He changes the machine into minions

Stirring multiple systems of incarceration,

The river is filling dreams of emancipated ones.



We all are out of signs

Turning blood into wine

I never got lost at heights going back is my decision,

To find the agony clothed three unforgiven.



You gave your power to the machines

Now you come here to ask me

Choose one of the two oppositions

Machines covering my dirty deeds.



This war is a never-ending war my brothers

Hunt next to the other shore

Trying to bend the rules

Don’t kill your golden goose.



He who should show if he looks for me

He will get dubbed no more

‘They left their land forsaken’

Cried a white crow once.



The machine found the emancipated bum

The law you follow was my discovery

When I resided as an emancipated tree,

That you cut down for your fun.



What you did for mass’s sake was in vain

One who still believes my moots

will never be wafted in my rain.

Make your show worthy or take my show.






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