Tokyo Drift


Rubies and diamonds, millions of them shone,

Shining balls, cuboids, cubes and cones,

Towers scraped the sky, stood statue in the sea of stones,

Lit up shapes with lights and colors of their own,

Some laughed dim, some brighter than the brightest,

Glistened spoilt, beamed out their best,

Blinked mischievous, as naughty as the West,

Mocked the poor dark sky,

The Cimmerian clouds floating by,

A mourning influx from third world neighbors,

Adding on to the night’s poverty,

Studded with multinational jewelry,

The city has been long swallowing the Sun, flaring in its energy,

Darkness disintegrated pearls of the Brightest Star,

Had them anatomized and sprayed to remain dissolved,

Till dawn in every nook and corner,

Thereby, letting witching hours flash orange divine zeal,

Cheering, alluring the ones intelligent, disciplined and daring,

The Yakuza land had little time for sympathy, no time for charity,

Here, winds too bore electricity,

Slapped current on my face, pinched me Yen-less disgrace,

Lost owner of a sinking fortune, a drowning company,

They had their prey easy, an obliterate mind hankering decay,

Slipping into a kaleidoscopic void with feet on the balcony,

Slowly sliding out-of-focus, into the motley surreal,

Paranoid fingers clutched the railing tighter,

Got a hold on fatal sways,

Mind boggling back home, the body’s drifting away, craving escape,

A head and chest rebelled for a bend, to tilt forward,

Along with his dimming eyesight, they too were disobedient tonight,

Gravity snatched the pen out of his pocket,

Kissing past the swinging chain of his oscillating locket,

Vanished out of a hell-bent motionless stare, out-of-sight,

To a distant trickle, metal on the manhole,

Twenty floors below,

Spell’s broken, trip’s cracked,

Steps anchor back,

From the black haze to the room yellow,

The book isn’t ending here,

The final chapter isn’t Tokyo,

Panting in shock, he chooses not to follow…




(Image from : )


3 thoughts on “Tokyo Drift

  1. What resonated with me were your lines, “From the black haze to the room yellow,
    The book isn’t ending here,….” To hold the awareness in the moment that nothing really ends but the consequences of an action, thought, intention swils onwards in unexpected ways.


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