The Last Cigarette

I hold it between my fingers, firm and steady it stands
Supple and slender more like artist than a killer
I shake it well to let the mixture blend, changing expression from distant to solemn
Pleased whatever the situation it gets
With the crushed leaves of anger
Tender touch of ego for esteem to evaporate
Selected powders of attachment whose taste I long forget
Being beautiful as it is urging you to dwell
The ingredient I wish to remain
Pouring the essence of melancholy a display of patience & perseverance

 Then comes the repeated heating under the plans of tomorrow, hollering memories of yesterday
Till the color changes to happy present
To roll on the velvet paper of solidarity,
Which does more to hide than reveal truth, affection, and grace
Lighting up with the purest fire of Ambitions the scrutiny of cruel

 Seeing the air having a new chill wind turning into gale
When the realm announces the departure of autumn
Taking a deep breath I'll suck the smoke
Like a moth turning back to cocoon
Only to be reborn, as a charming butterfly
In the ivory tower of mild and moderate
I'll let it flow, on voyage of sympathy
The puff will go stronger from audacity to acumen

 Believers are each other's mirrors
And at last, I have to let it go lost in the garden of chaperone
Sooner my discreet cigarette will come to an end
Spreading the temporary warmth I seldom get
In the end, we all belong to God and to him we shall return

 " Am I high? "said an atheist
Drifting in every direction like a dry sheath
With laugh and despair

 By - Kshitij Sinha 
5/12/2016

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Once you tell me something

Once you tell me something it can't be retracted It's like flickering light in northern twinkling stars...A domino of separation of anguish and anger  Blizzards On the sea far from all but coastal Remember in the tiny cafe you sat facing this summer, A book of introspection as you flipped the pages Pages of the chapter titled " Once you tell me something it can’t be retracted" Your whole body changes... The way you smell, Your reflection How it feels when you avoid my touch Like a distant moon, you shower your lights in the despair of meadows and in the blink of midnight The us will be no more than a victim you and a distant I Killing me in the leaching presence Leaving me at the mercy of mine a parasite of my own demise I’ll see it as an ephemeral moment of evaporating droplets, It’s a struggle to hold or to let you go now Yet all I could ever do is to observe and comprehend in hindsight "You’ll say my detachment has grown stronger and I no longer feel...
Read more

Non Zero Sum Game

Conversation between them She: Sometimes he sits on the terrace stargazing, Deeply fallen for I do not know t whom: like he makes me fall for all his art. I stare at him. Like he is staring at that empty sky. I grab his hand, point it towards the darkness and then towards me, telling him I am his star. He: Who is that he.. Is he or is he you Is he everyone around.. One trying to weave his dreams on the rotten grounds Does speaks or does he hears.. Is he even alive or he does stares... Staring at hollow nights Where I'm not just a person I'm a myth.. A star of skipped sleep She: You say I am a myth, And you my love, are a star of skipped sleep. You slip into the mornings;  And I slip into some more darkness. They say stars are the past we see, May be that is why, we shall meet at the distant horizon, where the sky touches the sea. He: A montage of crimson yet pale sky Aren't we all ill.. fallen over what he have and what we'll never possess What is an horizon.. Except a ...
Read more

Cafe with the red door

 My words they don’t speak to me anymore…They have gone silent. I tried to write a monologue ended up with a paraphrased well-rehearsed dialogue where it was me my pen a barren thoughtless ambitionless dire dread sunken low endless void sheet of paper a truce I was determined to extract a reunion of me and the words a paraphrased well-rehearsed melody. I’ll call my new testament a revelation yet again the door was shut a creek on the bolts and a sudden jolt as all that was left was a seer clear serene vaccume devoid of light sound hope dreams and the desire to get up…I was paralyzed my hands were trembling my pen aching to move an inch, to explore the great run of meadows some description of waves mountains the wind playing with your hairs a cuddle under moonlight cigarette’s after ages few stanza about the windows the first ray of sun and all the words that rhyme, my pen aching to move an inch succumbed to the wounds of fantasy a café with red door and a table peering all that y...
Read more