....in hate...

in hate instead of peeling onions to know its origin..these days i write lines to tell that i hate to hate the you,
in hate instead of getting boiled to 1000 degrees....these days i write lines to tell that i follow a doctrine to sell the sport shoes,
                                                                                                                                


the surface of these are soft and soles are strudy and are made of rubber the pure,
the uppers of these are just too designy and beautiful..you fix your feet init...and sprint just becomes your trademark for sure,


the kicks to hit the balls..just be a part of you...when the studs down there inspire you to..glide...strong stronger to hit the ball or score a goal,
the spikes or the nails under some fierce swinger...just fool a batter..who came on the front foot...the ball swung around ones legs..the wickets behind did faaaaaul,


the wooden courts on those come out in swanky outfits..the those..who enjoy the flights of shuttles..just gleeful get absorbed to control the sparrows,
what's in the name of these dear.. they giggle..here is the smash..and here is this drop...oh you returned all these..then take this one as my acccy arrow,


the courts of clays...the courts of grassy greens..attract the many...who set their foot on these...wearing ofcourse sporty shoes,
the purpose of all the above ones just remain the one..to earn name, money and the fame...where did can any one find them saying that i hate the you,


well then when the games are over..and you have marvelled all along by doing much better or just came back after winning a title,
the time for you is to party and party hard...wearing and being glamorous..to show you are fit and sexy..to your pecker peckish..voyager Michel,


then again what's in the name...you get the one..with any name...who in you arouse that passion that make you complete and full,
a sick is just too list less and life less...a player know this...as they toil hard... work hard...sweat profously to earn...and in their life can never be any sad lull,


and in hates...the sledgings often over the hittings or over the ousters..arouse always some interesting tales,
" captain HE got RUNNED OUT..so ZAHIR HAI NA..he is getting older..becoming from a sprinter to this slowed thou visibly he is hearty and hale",


surprise ooooo surprise...the captain turns back..gives an irritated looks like an old man..bends and start walking towards him..making bat his supporting cane,
"cough cough cough...Zaiur i kinda seems have not worn proper batting shoes..so got the OLD ONE..ya rite..Zaiur..seeya..i made ths bate a cane...invite you to give me a RUB TO EASE MY PAIN....(smileesss)",


equally sporting gets the Zaiur..."ha..ha..ha...ha..hats off to you the captain as to me you are one of the most finest subtle and toughest captain to deal ,(with)
but but but...smiles...discard these old pairs of shoe..i"ll bring you the new one when i come to give the RUB..but meanwhile take this zappi of me...to get instantly healed", (smiles)



and then in coming amidst the hectic parleys of daily life through which it was the maverick trade mark of you..to initiate a super process,
and then you recalled the days from where you began by saying..that in the world of entrepreneurs.. the combinative.. not the combative work brings the success,


the success that came and surprisingly along with... it brought the voice that got shuffled as flirt..in the tubes that were null and void,
the friction you thought shall bring the sparks..hence took the air off from the space.. but forgot the law.. that voice never travels in world of devoid,

despite having every thing, every mean of potent communication and every aspect of comfort.. the virtual hate somehow made a shadow upon the you,

the one who just worked..got all the boots and hoots,, boo's and wooo's.. had to gather the double strength to absorb the pain.. thinking what more could i do,

could i do..just to sit at home or be addictive of drugs and drinks and make abuses to call the entire world full of trouble rs and untrue,

could i be..just a destructive and an instinctively horrible animal whose eyes would glow with thoughts.. of me.. piercing your abdomen to murder you's,


instead of all these thought..while travelling all along or by getting absorbed in work..the tears ofcourse did roll out from my eyes,
never shown these to any..as these were my moments of pains..the solitary pain i had had.. and possibly thinking the gift of you the mighty for my little tries,


the tries were and are and shall ever ever remain..to overcome these sadist thoughts of me..that should never get clutched into combative deeds,

so in hates i hate to hate the you..and as metaphor just sell the goods to sustain and to make a living.. just to be reasonable with comfortable greed...