Arable

Sensing a split in unending harmony
Do you?
Breathing into vibrant vacillations,
do you sense a monotonous mockery?
Sneering at your face,
your forgotten face.

Lush barren fields
and sparse vegetation.
Do you sense the yearn?
For condensation,
only to repay compensation?

The Shylocks of this world
have united.
What is their religion you ask?
Hindu, Muslim, Secular?
Money, they cry out, money!

The thirst have clipped many wings,
saturated many souls.
Still, the peacocks don't dance,
the children don't squeal.
This thirst thrashed you,
me, crops, careers, comfort, character.
It took the heart out of muddy by-lanes
and coerced an entire generation
to lust for the concrete, the chaotic.

Green

You are green,
like open spaces covered with carpets
soft, unassuming.
You are green,
like jealousy,
difficult, demanding.
Terrifyingly slow yet tediously swift,
you are green,
like the waves, violent, boisterous.

Green to my eyes,
you are green to a soul,
parched.
Quenching an unending thirst,
you let the distant seem intimate
the poor, flamboyant.

You turn me green.
You make the blood rush to my veins,
and smudge the kohl across my face.
Loitering with my suspicious heart,
you turn me green,
everytime.

Then, you kiss the intoxicated tears till the severed lip breaks into a curve.