Oh! How long could be, that queue to ennui
In which we stand, to reach nowhere
All faces look the same, what’s more to see
Than glued on past’s carcasses, future’s fear
From cradles who learnt, dogged dogmas of life
Would they ever choose to be, lunatic mavericks?
Where chewing the cud, of history is rife
Who dares to recite, treatise of cynics!
“Don’t kill thy brain, with the art of debate
When precepts, ain’t yet, out-of-date!” they say
“Why my soul ought to be, your littered slate
Let madhouse be my mind, of my thoughts astray!”
How irrational’s the creed, of a rational man
Who buys nothingness, at intellect’s expense!
To be yet another pawn, in world’s game plan
One amongst the clan, of cronies of commonsense!
© 2016 Vikas Chandra
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