The guilded house of Samarkand

We entered the cinema hall
At three in the night
All the halls were empty
Every odd light on

We came upon a door
That hid jeering voices
He must've knocked octillion times
Poetry was the password

The curtains trapped the conspiracy
A gramophone hushed the silence
Smoke seductively rose from cigars half lit,
Half unlit, the theater sparkled with secrecy

Alcohol, ammunition patrolled around
Like waitresses with naked intentions,
Making each man in the room giggle-
Over the inanity of the next

They called me “the mending bug”
For I could bend their storms
Or fold them into typhoons
Polluting all their plans

I made my request then,
When badly-drawn weapons floated around my nose
“let my friend leave”, I said,
It made more sense than insanity

Head-honchos all spoke amongst
Elders of the protocol.
They agreed to release my friend
From the gilded house of Samarkand.



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