LitMasters

THOUGHT FOR A BETTER WORLD

By : Sanyam Jain

A man had a thought, to make his planet sparkling clean,
Until that time, the planet was known for its green;
He analyzed and appreciated,
He intellectualized and meditated;
He toiled to infer, he reckoned to deduce,
The tiny bulb of his mind, flickered and fused;
On one fine day, he saw a bang,
The silent bell in mind slowly rang;
He got up, he scored, that the world had never seen,
To the fine outcome of his rut, He called machine...

This machine needed a person, who works under hammer,
He may be organized, may be a daydreamer;
He needed some skills, which do not quiver,
He need not have a charm, he may not love glamour,
No matter he is intellectual, no matter a scammer;
In modern times whoever has such qualities,
Is known as a programmer...

He works for acquittance, he doesn't have aims,
He uses his intelligence, and makes a frame;
But nothing to work upon, it's all the same,
It makes him frustrated, it doesn't let him restrain;
He forgets lust, he forgets fame,
He has nobody with him, whom he can blame;
His emotions are ruined, his words are lame,
He always tries to be the king of his only lonely game;
All he has in mind is to develop a new version,
And for that silly thing, he might use recursion...

His mind takes a dive, his thought becomes a digger,
He loses the motion, he loses the vigor;
He forgets family, coz salary has figures,
The only thing he can help, is just to configure;
He types and types, and makes the code bigger,
To automate the code, he uses trigger;
He forgets his name, he forgets his rigor,
He doesn't remember either he is white or a nigger;
He gets frustrated, he takes on liquor,
But that's no solution, he just looks sicker...

He never gets satisfied; health is no more his interest,
He wraps some tobacco and makes a cigarette;
He wants to stop, thoughts coming like in a cassette,
And he smokes heavily, on the roof of a minaret;
After a sudden time nothing seems correct,
But it's too late man, no benefit of taking nicorett;
He needs a cure, he starts the quest;
He is ready to pay anything; he looks for the best,
No doctor can help him, the only way out is internet...


The man who thought to make the world better,
One day receives a bouquet with a letter;
It was addressed for a landmark setter,
But the letter had a heading, "A truth, but Bitter";
He stepped back a foot, and tightly held letter,
It made him lose his balance, as the title was hard hitter;
He could not hide his emotions, he could just titter,
Because it was none other than the programmer on stretcher;
Who wrote for him, on his final departure,
The message for him, was a simple cloture;
The letter had only one distinguishing feature,
The wobbly handwriting, and a dull colorature;
The first line of the letter, addressed the IDEA knitter,
Rest lines read, "THE NATURAL WORLD WAS BETTER", "THE NATURAL WORLD WAS BETTER"...