Cut

Nikhil Parekh , ( born August 27 ; 1977 ) from Ahmedabad , India - is a Love Poet and 10 time National Record holder for his Poetry with the Limca Book of Records India , which is India's Best Book of Records , also Ranked 2nd in the World officially to Guinness Book of World Records . He is an aut…






In order to cut the fabulous ribbon; I used a pair of majestically glistening scissors,

In order to cut the unruly weeds of rampantly sprawling grass; I used the irascibly groaning and obsolete lawn mower,

In order to cut the pencil into an articulately molded tip; I used a conventionally shimmering sharpener,

In order to cut the acrimoniously piercing sunshine; I used a pair of voluptuously seductive sunglasses,

In order to cut the incorrigibly extruding parasitic tree; I used an incredulously lanky handled axe of pure rosewood,

In order to cut the atmosphere overwhelmed with inexplicable sadness; I used my repertoire of inherently fulminating jokes and laughter,

In order to cut the intransigently hard coconut shell; I used an astronomically fortified hammer,

In order to cut the fathomless sheet of plain paper; I used a cutter dexterously embodied into boundless corrugations on its handsome periphery,

In order to cut the perniciously sinister buds of hair protruding obnoxiously from my cheeks; I used a grandiloquent razor functioning on passionate sparks of white electricity,

In order to cut the painstakingly marathon period of time; I profusely absorbed myself in relentlessly augmenting fantasy; which made me wholesomely oblivious to the indefatigable minutes of an hour,

In order to cut the colossal edifice tyrannizing the soil with its horrendously infiltrating foundations; I used a mammoth bulldozer charging menacingly towards
the mountain of lame bricks,

In order to cut the dangerously swirling stormy waves; I used an intrepidly advancing boat; compounded with Herculean muscle in my rubicund bones,

In order to cut the insurmountably stinking ambience of horrifically rotting fish; I used a gorgeously efficacious scent; extracted from the tantalizingly crimson garden of rose,

In order to cut the unfathomable layer of ghoulishly threatening glass; I used a bland looking chunk of robust stone,

In order to cut the unsurpassable bitterness embedded on my tongue; I used a waterfall of ingratiatingly ravishing honey,

In order to cut the incomprehensible networking of perilously smudged lines; I used a stupendously immaculate rubber,

In order to cut the ominously escalating automobile speed; I voraciously used the twin pairs of reassuring brakes,

In order to cut the unbelievably dolorous silence; I used my austerely permeating and ebullient whistle,

In order to cut the perfidious love mercilessly killing me every instant; I used the disastrously dying beats of my heart,

But I simply didn't have anything at all to cut the thread of precious existence; as the irrefutable right to this cut solely belonged to the person who had evolved each part of my body in the first case; the person whom I remembered for infinite times in a
single day as my Omnipotent Creator.

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