Tons of words, poised, on an ounce of belief
This tombstone beats, the heights, of rationale
Why dailies sell, in many a sheaf
Stale news, at the cost of, Holy Grail!
In a mob, fostered, on flesh of fancy
Who cares, for the soul, of ingenuity?
Who scrape a living, out of, necromancy
Kill a radical thought, with impunity!
If art, had to be, a wholesale trade
Which, ‘who’s who’ gangs, operate
And lie, had to sell, in truth’s charade
For buying truths, is so, out-of-date!
When bazaars run galore, with secondhand beliefs
Few hearts, incubate, ingenuity’s seed
When spent to death, wearying, leitmotifs
Lingers lifelessly, Banality’s Creed!
© 2016 Vikas Chandra