DRUGS Poem: GITA, by Ashu Rai

Fed my books to
Pissed children.
They said to
Halt my chariot,
Do my bidding,
Order a gathering, &
Recite a lament,
For my bitten forehead.

Hit a tree after I blew
Secrets in its hole.
Written on top of my
Joking blunt knuckles,
The changeless.
Such are the battles I see in the
War that’s coming.

I think a secret for my friend.
See her singing somewhere,
Picking out what she stashed
In her locker, just because she’s
Decided her skins burning, & her
Heart should explode now.

Heaven forbid any bloodied
Clouds are found
Where she’s headed. I wonder
If she thinks about me
Sharpening a blunt
Knife or two, after I hear she’s
Left me lonesome here
For battle.

Author: poetryfest

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