Thoughts are things

Thoughts are things

Eyes!
Instantly identify
A tiny black spot
From an impeccably
Clean, white shirt.

Ears!
Listen to class.
Miss the speech.

Hands!
Tired to clap.
Unwilling to hold.
Delinquent fists
Relentlessly hurt, hit
Seldom fold, and fetch.

Arms!
Linked with weapons,
Unwilling to stretch.

Feet!
Eager to kick.
At other times, fleet.

Brain!
Left or right
Unfortunate guide.

Tongue!
Less said the better!

With all these junk machines
In our factory, we produce more than 30k
Thoughts per day
Majority of which, are useless
Because they belong to yesterday.
Rest are waste; they are either of failure
Or about cursing others with hatred, conceit, and anger.
Harmful! Counterproductive!
Like Budhha said,
Anger is like drinking a cup of poison
And expecting your enemy to die?

Everyone is a CEO
Of companies that produce
Such defunct products
In liquidated glory,
To rewrite their everyday story.

In this semi-conscious state,
We set out to talk about peace,
Sometimes with candles
Sometimes with trees.
Condolences are followed by apologies.
We are ashamed of our behavior
Only in books, never on the field.

Despite angry peace NGOs,
We do nothing to throw
The antiquated machines
From our minds,
Let our organs function
In their original, fruitful version.

Our repetitive actions come out
In disguised words,
Get willingly lost, in verbosity,
In plastic sagacity,
Simplicity is discarded as impotent
Meek, inept, redundant.

Of peace and other jargons,
We talk, we talk, like soldiers
We march,
Left; left; left, right, left,
We talk, we talk, we talk,
We talk,…

But when we wake up
From this slow-poisoned slumber,
We start mending the machines
Into beautiful organs.
We hear a symphony in fruition
We realize that thoughts are things
And apply them into action.

© supratik 2020
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