Vanity – A video poem by Isaac Sundaralingam


Verily, the viewers vary From vermin to viscount
From victim to villain Who view in vigil the verdict
Between the vicar and the victor. The vicar, who was once the self-proclaimed victor, Whose visage, a mere veneer of vanity Who now vilifies with vindictive vendetta
Vacant of all vigour Versus the verbatim victor
Who verbalizes his verve and valour And whose vexation with the
Venal, virulent, vicious, violent,
Vice and voracious vicar Vouches all the very visible
As the vox-populi watches The vain and virtue,
The value and votive
From a vantage. Amicably addressing the attended
To the amenity of the ambience, The vicar altogether avoids
The atrocities he has authored. He alludes to alms,
To amity and accord; But which accredits aught to the afore. He addresses abstemiousness and ambition; As if afore is adequate to ignore the
Armed combat, animosity, antipathy
And aversion he authors? Aye, a few of the vicar’s apportionment
Has attempted to accomplish and adapt
To the actuality of the victor’s authenticity, But the audience in attendance
Grow annoyed as all age, At the hypocrisy accessible
And advance towards the approaching. New-born, the vicar needs no necessity
But to nag at the ‘nviron, The norms and needs,
When nations had no notion. Him, our native ‘ndeavour to notice
The neon night and noon,
Noise and necrosis. But now, nights are nimble,
Our noesis nourished,
Our ‘nowledge never-ending. But nevertheless, he nails down
His nearness, not noticing
That his novel is not needed no more. Ideally, the victor incarnates
With individuality and infallibility. Immensely interested in
Reality and information. He inspects, inquires, investigates,
Inquests, informs and interprets
The world in its indefensible, But also indifferent
To insult and incrimination. Invalidating imagination
From impartial information, Investigating ideologies,
Incorporating inklings,
Improving ideals and Illuminating the inhabitants
Who inhere in this institution. Truly the vicar’s time is through; His tyranny, torment, turpitude,
Trickery, treachery and thrall. Him, an ever truncating tract
Of the victor’s ignorance. A totalitarian tenet,
Where thwarters were
Traduced, tried, tortured and thrashed. But the tribe turn talented by time,
Taunting the vicar to turn tail. His tomfoolery, travail and tricks
Transact no more, as his
Throne tapers-off, and the
Tribe tastes the truth. Yet, the vicar can never yield,
For he is a yearning in you and me. An Yggdrasil of yesterday,
The youth in you and me.
The victor now leads us
Yonder to the moon and far. The victor is not of the yester,
But of the years yet to come.

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