Lest, the least, of my, tantalizing tryst
Leave me, with an, intellect, half-learnt
In the fist, of a, self-taught alchemist
There are, a few more, metaphors earnt!
No more, is English, colonial gift
But a, substance, of my, thoughts’ ethos
It would, be, my myth, to call it, a thrift
Rather, than a poor, poet’s pathos!
Is lexicon, my, new Bible
But, expressions, are, not just verse
Whose rational, seems, no more, radical
But, the sum of, my utopian, universe!
I am not, what, you may have, thought
Lazing graffiti, on, a stray shadow
Lost in, life’s, endless roundabout
Few Words, Know Me, Fewer Words, I Know!
© 2022 Vikas Chandra