Don’t read! Who cares! Insolence is reward
For those, who yearn, for a sublime ache
Caricatures of mine, could I only afford
My words don’t sail, in paper ships, I make!
My ode to the ones, who squelch in despair
“Oh! Read us once, lest we die of disdain”
How they shred their hearts, and souls threadbare
For that elusive glory, précised in pain!
Why drift thru the drudgery, of ‘sullied sheets’!
Be a chagrined tomb, of their ‘baloneys’
Who know not literature, beyond sweet deceits
Still arbitrate, your flair, as ‘felonies’!
When was art, beholden to, vanity’s derision?
Penury, whose creed, ain’t it worth indicting!
How Keats, Kafkas… learnt to outlive oblivion
Their cherry-picked religion, For The Joy Of Writing!
© 2017 Vikas Chandra