New Year Wishes, More Wishes

Another year, only more rituals
December does serve coldly
Heavier clothes and all and the good food
Heaps of mustard and peas and stink beans

And some whisky and some rum
With a toast to the approaching suns,
Let there be. . .

More bullets and more bombs and more blood
While we hope desperately for an end point
Unlike here and now—we have been grinding at a point of no return,

More army men and more, more army men, more worms
With their special books on peace and serenity
And their ammunition and their love for the nation,

More expressionless school kids out of the classrooms to crowd the streets
With unclear banners and insane adults’ demands
Doing everything but what they are supposed to.

Let there be more heroin in BOC, let it flow ceaselessly
Let there be more sex workers in each alley in Paona Bazar
The tomorrow has never lose its significance like this
Only the powerful people see beyond the horizon

How about a suitcase of money and a dozen of guns for the farewell party
—And more general strikes, more blockades, more murders
More darkness, more insanity, more hate
More loot, more robbery, more shamelessness
More territorial pissing, more empty promises from the masters

Even life has an end; everything has an end
Even this nonliving year is melting away
Some of it into memories and words and a large part into oblivion
No matter how December is too feeble to sub for the past eleven months
So colourful is the impending New Year in the darkness.

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THE SMALLEST COFFINS
ARE THE HEAVIEST
From a tweet #PeshawarAttack

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