Inflammed Mind Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

I bore so much ill will,
Hatred more with intense kill,
Jealousies more with less zeal,
Anger more but not real,

Can any body suggest and heal?
Not hate me and put a seal,
With great pain I conceal,
Look so nice but not real,

My mind is living inferno,
Dead thoughts with active volcano,
How any one can read and know,
What is hidden underneath the snow?

I grew with deep trust and hate,
Common sense came very late,
With mean thoughts I always rate,
Wait for fate to come through gate,

I never trust and confide,
Crush the intent and skillfully hide,
High ambition on with horse ride,
Angle narrow and mind not wide,

World has done nothing wrong,
Still I found, self not among,
Afraid to sing beautiful song,
May be it so not short but long,

I see people always on run,
Threatening life with long barrel gun,
This all happen under the nose of sun,
How can I find time for fun?

Nothing goes smooth and as usual,
I too take it as routine and casual,
The role I play is dubious and dual,
Not so holy but as part of ritual,

Failed to understand why such is mentality?
No more care for any such sensitivity,
Aim at destruction and no creativity,
Wants to enjoy life with more longitivity


Mob flee after setting houses on fire,
Not real people but kept on hire,
They burn the property of others,
I burn from within which almost bothers,

Can do nothing but mere spectator,
No powers to act as dictator,
Might pray for peace in long run,
Only friendship hand with no trotting gun