The undoing

Vernacular is its ownmost voice which
doesn’t care much about proper form.

‘Bichhda hua yaar’ needs to be weeded out
of tepid hearts that go from morn to maghrib
whoreshipping their idols. Shall not not do.

So it goes to work, vernacular, it does,
and by the time the ‘ishqiya’ is carped and
voweled out of its three billion one hundred
and one interpretations, the naught asserts itself.
Job well done: the stench will go away soon.

Don’t you worry.

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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