37th Floor

Note: Once upon a time, me and him, we used to dwell in the 37th floor.. now it lies in a dilapidated state.. desolation and memories being its only inhabitants.

In the 37th floor no bird sings
Only sun rays saunter in like white wings
The blue moon glares indifferently
The 37th floor is blood-written to be

White paper curtains billow in plea
Draw us together else the world will see
In the 37th floor nude raindrops dance
Like wisps of breath in a sweet-poisoned trance

Blood red steam pours, pours forth like wine
Pink and blue merge, merge clandestine
Rose petals weep and songs go unheard
Dreams of twin buds punctuate every word

Memories die endlessly and fresh winds sweep
Waking to cloud songs, wincing to sleep
Whispers die half-born,irises in pain
Droplets of fire spark a feathery rain

Incense red rising in fumes of grey
Dread of separation holds them in sway
Almond kissed sandal walls twine, entwine
Bamboos hum wild Candle clouds nine

Imaginary flames in planes surreal
Life fountain springs elixirs unreal
Butterfly prints morph into Zebra patterns
Wheels of hourglasses to haw lanterns

Blakey tygers born in flaky murmurs
Intruders laughing at carnival drummers
Parchments levitate A glass quill gleams
Inky darkness eats the refracted beams

Vulcan in his smithy pounding at souls
Undertakers unearthing fresh rabbit-holes
Eyes brim with frozen pearls bottled in shells
Black hair cascades like magical spells

All time is suspended in halters of space
All truth races quivering in its place
Todays unknown Tomorrows oblivious
Yesterdays shed their garments, fallacious

In the 37th floor no birds sing
Only sun rays saunter in like white wings
All death burns in a holy pyre
Two dead phoenixes light a green fire.

The last two stanzas he added:

Hark they do, at the fire that sounds a crackle
Like a drummer in a scarcely common trance
That the the fire’s sheen green should tackle
The imaginary flames and their surreal stance

Aspire they do for intensity and simple recidivism
That streams forth from silent tongues of the flames

Crackling, ignite the mind as the Sun’s schism
As yellow against green, as dawn against the fecund earth.

2 thoughts on “37th Floor

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