Dr. Yogesh Sharma
Pseudo King-Shahrukh Khan - Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
One day there drops in glittering Bollywood jumping court,
A wandering, stammering Khan, to hit the celluloid fort;
All the priests muttered in dismay: “My name is Khan.”
Inspiration to Leshkar-e-Tayebba, and terror plan;
Crying and bleeding soul for Pakistan.
Abode cozy in Dubai, an Islam Stan.
More a hyper theatrics,
Than an honest art specialists.
He has tutored the pang of drama around,
Stands never straight, but always move round.
Nor by his art, but vexed the dealers tame, sold;
The feeble son of wealth and fame, red:
And in this land of rotten hand,
Labored with a shrewd eye and fox mind,
For wealth and fame trekked all land,
And dance only by deign bound.
Jumped madly in the IPL drill,
But it was not a Bollywood thrill.
Ding-dong and crashing in the sky;
Bang, bang, bat and ball aren’t mad high;
Luck and fame, flew away with the wind;
The pitch so dark, with eerie rind;
Plotted to desert the sinking ship of IPL,
Like a rat, running from a house of BPL.
Worshiped here the man, with conscious dead;
Always cry and bleed for Pakis mad.
Thus he breaths and makes him well,
For him here all leaders swell;
With honors high, and decorated name;
Boundless his coffers, and power chain;
Despite his title, power and wealth;
The wrench, cornered all in self health.
DR. YOGESH SHARMA
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