Every quest, inquest…I’d laugh away
But not, the paradox, of her smile
Where ends the world, of my words’ melee
Begins the chase, of that sinful guile!

All wars won, worth not, a battle lost
My conjectures, against her wit!
Bought penury, at conquests’ cost
What a, blasphemy, did I commit!

That king, of slur, and parody!
Now questions him, his caricature –
“Whose vanity, eclipsed, your heresy
You are, no more, sarcasm’s signature!”

“Every street seems, paved with bliss, these days
Not that travesty, I loved to shove
How my life, became a, sweet malaise!”
Resents to death, Satirist In Love!

© 2018 Vikas Chandra