Not Green

The tree is dead, today.
Spread across the limitless horizons
With its infinite wisdom, and charred branches
It stands, several ants escape
Their lifeless abode, lest the tempest
Of silent sap and flamboyant pollen -
Blows them away into nothingness.

You were there, the quiet whisperer -
Climbing its stony boughs, sprigs cradling you
You were touched, weren't you?
The fire lit its insides, but left you
With tears ablaze, and a strange leafy musk
That you will reek of, whenever you lie -
Or lie next to me, possibly medicinal smelling.

They will come in hordes and swarms
It will rain a million tears.

I have the axe here, see, saw too -
Dead trees must lay forgotten.
But what do I do with the stump
With roots clawing far beneath, holding on
And here in my clinic heart, the storms
Rage on, creating new dunes of sand.
Yellow and brown, not green.

Alas

It was the picture of a broken bottle -

Jagged, a victim of asinine actions

And acrid smoke, lilting by the dark drapes. 

Or maybe it was you, with napalm poetry

Burning red, green, white; who knows? 

Let's wail tonight. The picture, you, I - 

The darkness of the eyes needs washing.

In yours, under mine, and the picture? 

It is but sanguine, you say. My eyes hurt. 

Let's sleep with each other tonight.

I, you, the picture - no, it must remain away

Fetid little thing, not apposite in our havens, 

Of fragrances and musk, and entangled arms

And Alhaiya Bilaval 

You are gone. Or is it I? Dark grey skies,

You cannot see the moon. It burns red. 

I burn red. 

You burn red. 

The picture burns red.

Alas.

Spring is Here

The moon was a little restless last night-
He tried, several times, to peek through
My window, where I sat resurrecting
Dying symphonies - Running antiquated
Needles of joy through dark unseen sheets
Bloodied patchworks, clammy with sweat,

Dusty with neglect, with no outlines, no boundaries-

Much like our silhouettes that we found
Intertwined as we lay writhing in newfound throes
Of lust, passion and fruition.

The moon was green last night, I saw-
A little peek, when you stood on your tiptoes
To kiss me a last goodbye. It fumed, ran leaves

And strong winds on my path home -
Its acerbic rays could only massage my skin
As I danced, on music you filled inside me.
The stony burrows of silences, the frigid caves of gloom

That I had all known so well, stood all bathed in green- 

Sprouts of little conversations dotted their walls

As I vowed to nurture them, forevermore.

And as nights rolled into days, and my red eyes
Matched the discarded scripts my begrimed pen wrote-
The moon told of its jealousy to the sun,
"Why must I roam the night skies alone?"

The scorn brought clouds, and the sun powerless-
Only shone in glimpses, as the wind took over
And gloomy rains enveloped my world.
I however sat, in my room, thinking of our moments
Cocooned in safety and wonder- and music-
And wrote but three words, "Spring is here."

For the Once 14-Year Old Girl

You have grown up now.
One glance, a fleeting one at that
Upon, perchance, a wintry tree
Wilted frosted flowers in a November garden.
Ignorant are the fools who crush, who do not see
Looming minds, lamenting souls
Looking, ululating, lulled.

And I see you, standing aghast, is that hope too?
Lights rushing past your gleaming eyes
Witnessing- and is it all that the heart could bear?
A stellar sky falls prey to the silent smoke.
You see it engulfed, the world moves not.
Stationary it is perhaps, as aghast as you.

Blooms are for kids, you realise-
Everything is dark, lonely and cold.
My hand is warm, and you can hold it.
You have grown, but you are still the same
Vertrauen Sie mich- unconditionally, beyond.

... Even though I know your secret.

My Friend Left

Things are different now-
Perched upon my own fingers,
Lest I write and regret
I heard my greatest friend tonight.

And Darkness spoke of loss-
Of little flickers that make her run,
Of the majesty of her reign
All in one swift breathless whisper.

"Are you tired?", she asked.
"Of course," I murmured.
"Grayer skies, bloodier wounds-"
"-and jest, " she completed.

"Jest? Jesters tired of jest?", I inquired.
Darkness looked away, perhaps.
Or maybe I did. I looked elsewhere -yes.
"Is that why you live with me?"

She smiled, a tiny nudge on my nape
"Truths are joy, truth be told."
I looked aghast, as my greatest friend
Abandoned me too - I heard footsteps-

I crawled, with closed eyes
And Light embraced me, tight.
They all laughed at my disfigurements
And I couldn't find my friend again.

My shrieks filled the chamber-

For a 14 year Old Girl

Violently, he draws every door to a shut.

Today is a sultry dawn, he sees-
He holds up the light against the grey walls
Ignites the tip of his last cigarette
Singeing his eyes, his insides.

Insipid, life dangles on the hour hand of the ticking clock
Saying nothing, sometimes saying the most.

For tomorrow might bring another little memory-
Of a silent house that screams in high-pitched horror
Rueful, he cries- the tears dwell in possibility.

You, of those pretty eyes that belie the tumult they see
Of my love, I can promise you-
Unconditionally, beyond.

Don't Lie to Me, Kalyani

"You haven't smoked a day in your life, Kalyani."
He said with his piercing gaze fixed upon my hand.
I looked at the cigarette, its face red and aglow like mine.
I told him, "No. I used to, then I quit." I took another drag.
He looked at me. He smiled. "No."

Later that night, I lay under his weight,
He kissing my neck with amorous passion-
And said, "You have done this before, Kalyani"
I froze, tried to find his face in the darkness-
And his eyes-
He penetrated me that night.

"I must go", I whispered. I think I saw sadness-
Fall on his five o clock shadow, but before I could tell
"Don't lie to me, Kalyani"
He said in his gruff voice.

I waited till he was gone, and then slowly dialed another number.
I ran and sat in the car, kissed the driver's mouth, and-
Lightly said, "I am Kalyani. Please don't smoke. I don't like it."