Adulation

By Varun Anjarlekar

Beware the vagaries of adulation,

That art unto themselves a manipulation,

They claim dominion through stipulation,

And are as silvered over as a false jubilation.

Indeed, the problem seems to be glaring,

And happy go lucky masses by their tastes are swearing,

Even when we know all they're doing is staring,

Knowing not art but just what it is wearing.

How silly for you to think it's you they're adoring,

Or that its your renown that these fickle beings keep restoring,

When they're all still greedily exploring,

The realms of talent no longer worth ignoring.

Of such society one tends to be dismissive,

And rightly so, for comments incisive,

Tend to abound in this medium divisive,

Which like their speakers are reprehensibly derisive.

Gaze upon their unlearned faces agape with awe,

At the untalented ones sniggering for every apparent flaw,

But for these blind patrons who make the law,

Of what sells and what flops when they pass the stage door.

And there's no speaking of the outpouring acclaim,

That comes from these puppets that seem only to aim,

To have a tale to tell where they can exclaim,

That they met a starlet (who to the stage had no claim).

No wonder performers consider themselves razed,

Upon stages and beyond, constantly appraised,

By the unseeing eyes of they who are easily amazed,

Difficult to predict, and impossibly fazed.

By Varun Anjarlekar