Urban Delight Poem by Ishan Chaitanya

under urban stress
we wear strange feathers
and by those feathers
we flock together

wearing the tradition
of uniform ideals
and the bleak comfort
of our life's ordeals

can the steam of engines
give us our lives back?
can our urban wisdom
teach us what we lack?

our prodigal destiny
teaches us instead
that whatever we do
is gone after we're dead

still no loving flows
from our tortured minds
disenchantement is urging
a journey for our kind

if I look for a friend
just what are my chances
to end up with someone
who likes romances

the itching is higher
sensation than truth
i must be so smart
to throw away my youth

so where does it end
in this reckless charade?
does anyone know the stuff
of which we are made?

the clock is slowly ticking,
our life is sliding by,
in which direction we go -
that depends on how we try.