But That Doesn't Mean

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


I might be possessing an uncouthly scraggy beard; encapsulating my cheeks abominably from all sides,
But that doesn't mean; that I didn't have soft flesh on my visage; the voluptuous tinge which seduced the most glorious of angels into an absolute submission.

I might be endowed with a color which was darker than the sootiest of charcoal; repelling every entity I transgressed in my way,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't fantasize about all the beautiful maidens on this Universe; drown and coalesce myself each instant with the ultimate of marvels; infinite lands transcending the island of paradise.

I might be residing with an insatiable whirlpool of mosquito's in my dingy hut; without an iota of currency in my bedraggled pockets,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't perceive ingenious ideas in my brain; to metamorphose this lecherously manipulative society once again; into benevolent mankind.

I might be tinier than the inconspicuously diminutive ant in stature; being overwhelmingly mocked by all tangible living on this planet,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't stand of my own feet; shirk into my reclusive cocoon; when it came to defending philanthropic mankind.

I might be having a voice more horrendously disgusting than the croaking frogs; inundating the atmosphere each moment with pathetically disgruntled cacophony,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't explicitly voice my feelings; pacify the torrential agony in my soul; with the poignancy I generated through my words.

I might be bereft of eyes right since immaculate childhood; stumbling on each gloomy footstep; like a pack of frigidly soft cards,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't enlighten other's lives; cast optimistic rays of splendor and hope; in the paths of those staggering towards horrific nothingness.

I might be disastrously ugly; with every quarter of spuriously bombastic mankind; rebuking me beyond the limits of ignominious condemnation,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't impregnate heavenly fragrance in my comrades shivering beside their corpse; assist them blossom again from the tenterhooks of hopeless extinction.

I might be utterly famished due to brutal circumstances; deprived of the most infinitesimal morsel of food since centuries immemorial,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't perceive stupendously oligarchic cuisine lingering in exotic kitchens; harness the most majestic of artistry with every droplet; of my profoundly compassionate blood.

I might be profusely decaying and old; now awaiting death any instant to embrace me in its inevitably ghastly stranglehold,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't bounce and frolick like a new born child; innocently pour out whatever enveloped the walls of my conscience to the extraneous world.

And I might be bound in devilishly blood coated chains; unable to budge even a minuscule inch over the gory imprisonment entrenching me murderously from all
sides,
But that doesn't mean; that I couldn't love; romance; care; share; with the person I revered the most; bond each of my senses in the swirl of an immortal relationship; which no bloody chain on this earth could ever break.


Submitted: March 19, 2018

© Copyright 2023 Nikhil Parekh. All rights reserved.

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