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(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

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Houston I have a Problem.

Why should I compete with my self?
Way to go, Cmon, Atta boy,
Why should I throw punches in air?
Fighting my shadow.
Why do I have to be my own judge?
And be forced by my soul, to be extra tough.
Why do I always have to be my own executioner?
Ruthless, dedicated, the bastar rope, well knot.
Why do I have to be my own grave digger?
Perfectionist, pure and measured.
The world is nothing to me,
I have been my biggest enemy.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 26, 2013


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Poet's Notes about The Poem

The bastar rope if i remember correctly is the rope used by the dying craftsmen who specialize in hanging people judjed fairly under law to be hanged by thier necks till they are dead.

The scribbler is against any form of Capital Punishment for records sake as long as it is lawful.

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