Lie Down
by
Tarun Tripathy
Lie down beside me in this hazy January morn,
I'll caress your emptiness, medicate where torn.
Don't give up on me, give up on God and all,
Like a spider down a nylon string to free fall.
I'll make sweet lemonade from your golden tears,
And will drink down your sorrows and fears.
Be a slow fuse, burn through this January night,
Like the tin soldier dressed and ready to fight.
Just a blip on the screen, a short-circuit glitch,
Tell me your story, honey, turn on your switch.
They say, failures are pillars and all concrete,
Get strong, sing the song and you will succeed.
Tap your impatient feet, they are ready to go,
Dance in my closed eyes, like you were never low.
Spring will come, hear the dead leaves spin,
Love will touch your heart, my dancing Queen.
- [April 1994]
Past Bites
by
Tarun Tripathy
| Painting the quiet in this room is darkness, |
| Strong smell of sulphur does the wind embrace. |
| I grope for another match across the floor, |
| Memories past singe me, I can hold it no more. |
| |
| I scan effete pages in the flickering light, |
| They haunt me, maul me, some of them bite. |
| In faint discord, my old lines seem weary, |
| In memory's graveyard, my wounded self I bury. |
| |
| I strain my eyes, the number is on last page, |
| My grief escalates to a long forgotten rage. |
| The phone is alive, though my spirit is dead. |
| She's here in town tonight, voices in my head. |
| |
| Dial the fiery digits, that once was passion, |
| Words I begin to form, I shroud my obsession. |
| Washed ashore in the present, I dance in rain, |
| Thank goodness she left by the evening train. |
- [April 1994]
The Stranger
by
Tarun Tripathy
Don't you know you have that stranger in you,
See his reflections stabilize in your smile,
And feel his voice ringing in no put-on accent,
After I and everybody else are gone for a while.
Don't you know I know where he's hiding in you,
He tricks your facade, slips away from your lips,
He knows your true dimensions, colors and shades,
Your perfume, jeans with extra padding on hips.
When you make promises I look at the stranger,
When you write those letters, I read between lines,
I have seen him cry, face buried in pillows,
False pretences, shallow pride, cheap red wines.
You can run, pretend, but he's got you for life,
Why don't you learn how snakes shed their skins,
Truth is, truth is beautiful, more than you are,
With your writhing soul, your sorrows and sins.
- [May 1994]
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