Please read till the end please or do not **** your time reading this.

The online poetry community is invited to read the eBook which also has some English poems apart from few Hindi poems (translated in brackets to English too).

I had had met with a really serious accident on the 7th of May in the year 2010. It had put me into a 23-day long comatose state. Of that I couldn't breathe by myself for around 17 days because of which I had to be put on artificial respiratory system. I came out of the comatose state after 23 days only for waking up to the real pain of physiotherapy.

I was prescribed rest at home, break from college for one complete year. Lonely afternoons started to get the better of me. My mother suggested me to recount sincerely whatever wrongs, or rights I was ashamed of, or proud of in my life.

Paying heed to my mother's suggestion and to keep myself occupied, I started writing (typing on my laptop) a self-account of whatever I had had experienced in my life as an Indian teenager with a global outlook. I then transformed it into a fiction titled '7 Seconds: Typical Guy, Not So Typical Life'.

First 10 copies of my novel's eBook have been sold in India and the United States put together.

You never actually grow up, and there is a youthful cringe always hidden inside you.
This story prods on the same youthful cringe in your mind which never actually died out even if you are no longer a young adult.

This novel contains poetry both in English & Hindi (in Roman script). It also has decorative inputs in languages other than English, namely Hindi (again in Roman Script), German, French, Punjabi (the language of Punjab in India again in Roman Script), Kannada (a South Indian language, also put in Roman script) with English translations of all such non-English inputs mentioned in the following dialogues.

The story follows Akshant in first person for most of the part as a mysterious female narrator named Satyaa recounts most of it all just as he had told her on e-mails.

The story takes him to the Old Fort at Delhi where he encounters a Franco-German tourist party and acts as a friendly guide for them.

Later, he is involved in a fight against the terrorist hijackers in a flight to Hamburg where he is off to a biodiesel convention by the fictional Deutsch Biodiesel.

This eBook is available on Amazon and is up for the taking on the internet.

It's absolute reading pleasure at an economical price.

The links from where you can buy this eBook from are given below:

USA:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

India:
http://www.amazon.in/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

UK:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

German:
http://www.amazon.de/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

French:
http://www.amazon.fr/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

Spain:
http://www.amazon.es/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

Italy:
http://www.amazon.it/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

Japan:
http://www.amazon.co.jp/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

Brazil:
http://www.amazon.com.br/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

Canada:
http://www.amazon.ca/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

Mexico:
http://www.amazon.com.mx/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

Australia:
http://www.amazon.com.au/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA/

A request: Don't just heart this poem. Get the ebook from relevant link and write a review as well please.

The loving , work horse
Strong heart , over flow
Loving the earth so deeply
Loving the earth so completely
He is driven daily
To plow his Love
furrow after furrow
Day after day
As he pushes heart into soil
In his daily toil
Generously carried softly
A surrendered humility

Our conflicting desires
Causing internal fires
Minds torn apart
Twisted and contorted
But like wild horses
We set all free
Flying high like a bird
Relaxing , letting be
As all will inspire
So just watch
This explosive aspire

A horses purity
A crystal clear clarity
As desires from
Their master drift
Blissfully , shine brightly
As connections run deeply
And he loves his
Fathers earth to
As he share his masters grief
For all his poor harvests
So ears placed on his crown
The horse listens intently
For directions from above
And ridden horses feel
For nudges in the gut
As all horses enjoy
The blissful atmosphere
Created when their fathers
Wishes are fulfilled
As they both melt
Into a gentle repour

Boundlessly trusting
Giving themselves
Softening , striding
Physically carrying
Emotionally supporting
Integrity and honesty
As many trumpets play
Flashing lights dance a ray
As accidents happen
They listen and listen
Reestablishing connections
As they are always
TRUSTING

People and horses
Boxed in by life
Enclosed in tight arena's
Great pressures to jump
Deep urges to escape
But all jumping horses know
Freedom is not a
Horizontal choice
An option to run out
But a vertical belief
To jump what ever is front
As freedom is found
In the expression
Of unlimited self

The horse beauty
Is in its ability
To give generously
Surrender and listen
As he finds freedom
By working with and
Not Against higher forces

My mouth waters,
My fingers ache,
I gasp,
Bite my lip,
My hips buck,
My legs lock,
I am stricken for a moment.

With want,
Need,
Lust,
Hormones,
Fire,
Desire.

I ache,
Beg,
To touch you
With my fingertips
Mouth
Palms
Teeth,

To explore every plane of your
Body
I can get to

Allow me
To savor
Every bit of you

For I will treasure you,
And every way you make me
My body
Feel.

I’m from opening my front door, and hearing my back door slam
I’m from bleeding lips and bleeding fists
I’m from walk the other way around the block after dark
I’m from mouths running quicker than legs
I’m from hazy blue and red lights
I’m from soft pools of yellow ones
I’m from watch your back because no one else will
I’m from steel bracelets and lead pits
I’m from bitter words and sour spit
I’m from spinning records and pounding keys
I’m from jars and bottles and glasses and tubes
I’m from zipped lips and wide eyes
I’m from long, hot showers without conditioner
I’m from narrow minds and pretentious ******
I’m from weights and wait, lies and lying
I’m from thin walls and thick skulls
I’m from dull eyes and sharp tongues
I’m from do what you’re told
I’m from fires and fires and fires
I’m from pocket knife upgrades
I’m from t-shirts and mundaneness
I’m from faking smiles and screams
I’m from dreams that involve dying
I’m from fat fingers and fat books
I’m from sorry, what?
I’m from pushes down stairs and scolding words
I’m from scalding water and instant coffee, just milk
I’m from saving painkillers
I’m from we don’t want to hear it
I’m from *you never do

The truest bliss you impart upon me
sends a shiver down each column of my spine,
etching track marks over all my body,
a drug no-one can perfect or refine.
Your visage leaves lightning bolts on my eyes
and a heart palpitating in my chest.
Your body silhouetted in night skies
melts my deepest poetry to mere jest.
When we touch, it smashes my composure
into oblivion and far beyond.
When we lock eyes, I'm chilled from exposure
but for certain, only I feel this bond.
Although I strive for a day we would meet,
with the others, I could never compete.

I am from piano keys
from steel strings and sticky wood.
I am from the sheet music under the stairs.
(Crumbled, torn,
it felt like old age.)
I am from the vinyl shelf,
The stack of cassettes
whose voices I remember more clearly
than my own.

I’m from van Gogh and Klimt,
from paint spills and ink stains.

I’m from sketchbook enthusiasts
and color pencil hoarders,
from More contrast! and Less lines!
I’m from stacks of canvas
with pastel faces
and a charcoal line to connect them all.

I’m from Grandpa’s radio and Grandma’s paint set,
vanilla melodies and citrus colors.
From my sister’s hands over my own
on the keys,
on the brushes with bent handles.

Between my fingertips are a
slew of eighth notes,
an abundance of contoured figures
to slip in my mind.
I am from these things—
painted and composed through—
a casualty of family art.

I’m from perfect weather
From sand between my toes and long times spent outside
I’m from streetlights calling me in for dinner
Im from the smells of ocean salt and chalk dust

I’m from black hands from the asphalt
I’m from scraped knees
I’m from the neighborhood pool
I’m from the surf city

I’m from California

Don't want to live
Don't want to die