I hand it over to You

Shobi maya…
Or concentrated chaya…
Inexplicable shadow,
Mating the magic of the moment.
Sorry! If you are a zealot, I can’t spare any ticks of my clock for you
Or even your reasons.
If you will wave the “not for under 18” decree-
I suggest you stuff it where sun refuses to shine:
Cause I do refuse to even glow for you-
Or the distorted of-springs hanging from every outlet you kept unclogged.
Pardon? No way! this isn’t a go at hip-hop…
You may hop if u like-its good for health-
But there’s nothing hip in this.
No metal shit- or commercialized bubblegum;
Its even not a cross lingo ‘teen spirit”
Nothing psycadelic-thought you might ask-or even be cynic, if not a critic.
Okay! Enough play with words.
If oxford still survives after 100 years or so-
Something similar to this may have heavily stuffed genre up its hole-
Go on, add subtle hints to this trash;
Or you won’t do so now that I say its trash?
What makes you think it’s a poetry dumbo?
I ain’t interested in a mimicry of anything- that’s for the have know-it-alls
If you still haven’t thought of using gibberish,
Though I assure I amn’t under hashish-
If you are sure this is weak and leaky-
Let me tell you, just in secret,
When I punched the key-board,
I was really sleepy.
And if I am dissatisfied,
This is my MS-word, my keyboard…so stop protesting you retard.
Why the heck should I explain my lines?
Even if it isn’t going anywhere I don’t mind,
till I fall weary, and snuggle under the covers-
good night!