What maketh man, so sociable?
Amongst a mob, of urbane men
Is it some virtue, negotiable?
To feed his ego, now and then
He ain’t a man, they say until
He dons that guise, of ego’s choice
That glorified ill, his cherished skill
That devil’s voice, which ages rejoice
What Napoléon had, and Hitler made
A God of an ego, weighed in blood
Why Churchill said, Stalin’s charade
When both baptized, in the same holy mud
Is this the one, that riotous discourse?
Where men dissect, each other’s core
While some content, flogging a dead horse
The rest resurrect, a dying cold war
Leaders make nations, or it’s the other way around
Though ego makes leaders, meanly noble, for sure
For they dare and defy, history’s faith profound
That sits on the shoulders, of her lasting savior
Its creed akin, to that tide, in the sea
That slumbers, until dared, by heaven’s pull
With a kindled soul, shatters gravity
Scales the sky, defiant raging bull
How measures a man, this sinful love
Of his dreadful clone, that talks for him
Though, enshrined in his soul, a bleeding dove
With crimson coos, sings life’s lost hymn
Yet again, Obama sold off, to Putin’s petty plan
Hand-in-hand, two foes, on a phony moonwalk
Back to where it all began, O! That ego-ridden clan
Destined to doom, a lost caravan, when egos talk!!
© 2015 Vikas Chandra
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