Nikhilism

I have just read a thousand works of the new poet on this site. And must admit that it now irks me to report with what I might describe in private as point blunt, in public though as honesty. This place is where a man can hunt for various kinds of poetry. I think this calls for moderation in criticising what is posted, not all of us will feel elation that's why this man is being roasted. And one loud critic has the gall to tell an Indian fellow here to keep his culture, background, all away from us, well listen dear, it is a fact that a man's culture impacts him like his mothers milk, which does not mean that any vulture who finds the work not smooth as silk can shoot his cannon off at will as if he were the critic's critic. We'd all look smarter keeping still instead of waxing analytic. I have a precious Indian friend retired chancellor, no less, we keep in touch and often send each other stories from the press, and tidbits of the latest science and life as it unfolds at home, we even form a small alliance against the Codex now, in Rome, which sweeps the world, creating stress. In short it is fruitful exchange and, lest I babble and digress, I have observed that Indians range from stoic to the histrionic, they use a language full of flowers which, to myself can be a tonic, at times when tasks wipe out the hours their speech is pleasant, often soothing, and full of adjectives at that as if they want to bring a smoothing and healing influence to flat and bland communication. So what we read here signed Nikhil is xeno-floral re-creation, perhaps we need to think and feel how to appreciate his lines, or if we really are so narrow to stick with only certain wines, at least we could keep that mean arrow inside the quiver and unfired. And as for me, this Nikhilism which is, by some, truly admired it beats the ghost of dadaism.