Erudition: A contemporary panache

“Every person in this world is diverse”, was a childhood cliché
Contemporary education makes this phrase a mournful croquet

Being an astronaut was my infanthood dream
But I grew up and found management as the most ambrosial cream

I was astonished to see my friends found it as tasty as me
Everyone wants to savour it and flee

Yes mom I am now a part of this brand game
Because I can’t stand behind and blister in flame

I want to win this dizzy round at any cost
Or this world will treat me as a redundant frost

Being a “slave driver” is the new sprightly vogue
But Tom, Dick and Harry are happy being an eminent rogue

And yet I heard
“Every person in this world is diverse” as a childhood cliché
Contemporary education makes this phrase a mournful croquet

While I am busy administrating myself on facebook
The new bandwagon demands me to be a sharp crochet hook

The definition of contentment has changed from bliss to coinage
And that has made me regret, why I wasn’t born in the perky old age

I heard people have their own idiosyncrasy
But to my precipitance I found education makes them have a similar level of supremacy

“Every person in this world is diverse”, has become a childhood cliché
As Contemporary education makes this phrase a mournful croquet

Today this atrocious pursuit gives me more happiness than my favourite candy floss
And my entire ardor is on becoming some company’s crowned boss

Somebody come to my rescue as I drown in the ocean
Though I know there is no place to show my emotion

I would be an award winning movie if I say, “live your dreams”
But fervently we all need such inner screams

*Poet’s corner: This time I can say a lot of you can relate to the above piece of crap

The Theme of My Face

I ain’t a geek
I ain’t a geek
But she called me freak
She called me freak

For her the theme of my face was alpha and theta,
But I said that’s not the case my senorita

I despise my face; I hate it big time,
Because it’s making every fun a crime

She wanted us to hit the club and bounce,
But sadly so I always stayed behind and trounced

Love she said was not my forte,
But that’s not the real ottoman porte

And that makes me despise my face and hate it big time,
Because it’s making every fun a crime

She verbalized “I want you to have six packs”
“But, I know my dear you can only have 6 Macs”

I know I am not a male eye candy flaunting my swagger,
But I don’t need it as I foresee the need of the hour and turn an impulsive jager

But still
I despise my face; I hate it big time,
Because it’s making every fun a crime

I neither scored on paper nor in her heart,
That was an instance of a class named “my broken heart”

Hey almighty the books are not always my prey,
And the ultimate thought is turning my hair grey

I was in agony and my state was pitiable,
But she still expected me to be amiable

The word “fun” was in my recycle bin
As my entire body made a sorrow din

Yeah!
I despise my face; I hate it big time,
Because it’s making every fun a crime

But today I assure each one of you that I will be back in action,
As I have friends that will always inject me a fruitful injection

I cease by saying
Never go on the face but frisk the heart
Because the region never demands you to dart

*Poet’s corner: Dedicated to all those who relate to the above piece of crap.

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