Forever An Artist

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


Whether you placed him on the majestically regale clouds; or whether you placed him on the discordantly blaring and devastatingly dusty streets,

Whether you placed him on royal embellishments of mesmerizing ice-cream; or whether you placed him in the center of the overflowing gutter drain; nonchalantly stinking of nothing but undigested sewage,

Whether you placed him on idols of fantastically glistening gold; or whether you placed him in the heart of the vindictively hedonistic maelstrom; where nothing but savage blood dogmatically rained,

Whether you placed him in the aisles of ardently unending desire; or whether you placed him on the deadpans of traumatically horrific despair and delinquent hopelessness,

Whether you placed him on feathers of unparalleled felicitation; or whether you placed him in a disparagingly pulverized curry of obnoxiously squandering
tomatoes and lethal scorpions,

Whether you placed him on the spectacularly bewitching and princely throne; or whether you placed him on a bed of acrimoniously torturous thorns,

Whether you placed him on fathomlessly resplendent sea's of panoramic enchantment; or whether you placed him in the exact middle of the diabolically scorching fires,

Whether you placed him in the heavens of unconquerable prosperity; or whether you placed him in mortuaries of treacherously ghoulish and maiming abuse,

Whether you placed him amidst vivaciously dancing peacocks; or whether you placed him in the murderously asphyxiating coffin alive,

Whether you placed him in the cradles of impregnably unblemished innocence; or whether you placed him in disastrously miserable jailhouses of the forlornly corrupt politician,

Whether you placed him in the meadows of picturesquely panoramic divinity; or whether you placed him in the truculently acrid and perniciously sweltering desert
sands,

Whether you placed him in impeccably milky cisterns of enigmatic moonlight; or whether you placed him in the disdainfully fretting pig stalk; where all he got to
eat was cannibalistically lackadaisical shit,

Whether you placed him in an armor of patriotically blazing selflessness; or whether you placed him in frigidly sulking and regretfully orphaned ponds of nothingness,

Whether you placed him in the entrenchment of everlastingly fructifying sainthood; or whether you placed him in lackluster mud quagmired with cold-blooded leeches and egregious worms,

Whether you placed him on the skies of handsomely burgeoning victory; or whether you placed him in the gratuitously hideous crocodiles; emaciated mouth,

Whether you placed him in the winds of aristocratically bestowing chivalry; or whether you placed him in fecklessly slavering and tumultuously rebuked saliva,
 
Whether you placed him in the crystal of miraculously celestial clairvoyance; or whether you placed him between the petulantly shivering; stray dog's tail,

Whether you placed him in an unsurpassable valley of timelessly redolent roses; or whether you placed him in a grotesquely cacophonic skeleton of baselessly orphaned mosquitoes,

Whether you placed him abreast the entire wealth and love on this limitless planet; or whether you placed him on the floors where mercilessly marauded the most satanically greedy of dinosaurs,  

And it really doesn't matter where you decided to place him; amidst what shape and form you decided to place his destined life; because if he was true to each beat of his euphoric heart; if he was true to his spirit of harmoniously symbiotic existence; if he was true to the message that the Lord Almighty had ordered him to tirelessly convey; he would forever remain an artist even as ghostly hell relentlessly rained down
on earth; O! Yes his immortal art would never ever die.


Submitted: April 18, 2018

© Copyright 2023 Nikhil Parekh. All rights reserved.

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