Those Gangian Valleys Poem by J S Shankar

Where is life without delusions!
Everything seems without
conclusions...
Let Everybody know,
I kept relationships with two
persons like in winter snow,
One deceived me breaking my
faith,
Other soured relation because of his
wrath,
I, an emotional guy,
Who didn't know land-dry,
Like Gandhari I put strip on my
eyes,
Then eventually knew to shatter
those ties,
I wanted to be a bully bard,
But now like Duryodhna I see
watered yard,
Draupadi is nowhere here,
But my conscience isn't now fair,
Now Demon has become my God,
For me now Love isn't suitable
mode,
Now my two most lovable persons
save,
May be one day they'll not me
have,
Then here would be my overlaped
poetry,
Recalling my notorious dignity,
Those scribbled expressions,
Shrieking for pompous
reformations,
Though writer ITSELF inactive,
Losser, Losser yes losser and
tentative,
A TALENTED but actually failure,
Unaware of world's cunning
behaviour,
Inborn nonsensed with mind
oscillated,
Once decides something and then
again fabricated,
Colleagues would have reasons to
clap,
For one earthen-lump have gone
out of map,
One more false radical writer and
thinker now calm,
Now they are ready to collate his
ash; to warm their palms,
Since an unsuccessful writer's
ash,
Might provoke people's doormant
veins,
It's country of 33 crore deity,
Ash will be celebrated as amulets
in bounty,
As reverence it'll be dropped into
Ganga water,
Then ash will be integral part of
poluted matter,
An unsuccessful writer smashed
thus,
No vestige to celebrate his fuss.
Those Gangian
valleys'll sing.........sing.........sing,
Once upon a time there was a
notorious NAME,
Used to write poems of his own
FAME.....
Of own FAME......
Of own FAME.......
To nobody TAME....................
DAMNNNNNNNN.......