Cosmic Chicanery

Updated: Apr 30





Is it life?

To lie inebriated on grainy white sands of a lost island

Sea waves hitting rocky bottoms

Or is it life?


With disgruntled passages of ecstasy

Burning through lungs

Playing marimbas and flutes

Slaving over diehard habits

Of die-hard slaves

Both, consumed by intoxicated air.

Is it life?

Debauchery on luxurious yachts

Besotted with flaky dreams

Cultural appropriation & sexist hostility

Crawling in the streams of booze and bandits

Vomiting on banjo tunes

At the seashore of the Indian Ocean

Only to groan in the aftermath Over a potential that passed you by Like whiffs of a cigar


So is it really life?

Lo! What a wicked chicanery!

What a non-recyclable waste!

Of a spiritual being

To be found sunbathing

Such that, all you could confess to Lilith

On your deathbed is,

Oh! the way you please me!

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