Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Muse Unfolds...



Dear dear illusion of apocalyptic sky 

how have you been in the volcanic cry 

the mushes, the lure, the galvanic eye

the one who staged your manic die



the plethora of dust, Hust..it must!

you just couldnt see the gust of crust

lust you cursed was bound to rust 

the burst of soul, the locked unjust



the daily dose of fresh sublime

cut into ears, the sour rhyme

the photofinished nostalgic mime

left to burn..Time to crime!



the two rounds of satanic whirl

the illusion changed, the cryptic hurl 

if not today, the ecliptic twirl

the dreamer will die in a triptych pearl

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Hasrat

Hasrat us lakeer ki manend hai
Jo sihayi ke beghair veeraan rehty hai....
Per har pal, har khwaab sisakty rehty hai....
Phir ek din koi uska khaaka bun jata hai..
Aur yun hasrat ko apni taabeer mil jaty hai..

Hasrat ki soch uski taabeer pe ruk si jaty hai..
Shayed wo is gumaan mein hai ke 
Faqt ek khwaab uski aazmaish ka sahara hai...
Aur hasrat is etemaad ko
Apney pallu baandh ke so jaty hai..

Per aj..
Janey kyun...

Janey kyun us khaakey ki siyahi madham ho gayi hai...
Janey kyun..

________________________________________________________
Kuch is qadar bekhabar thi khwabeeda nazam
Ke rakht-e-safar se afsos, na-aashna reh gayi

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Good Night


Your touch...

Like a story unknown

Like the atheism forlorn


My being...

Embarrassed in a night’s cry

Like a shred of cloth you denied


My questions...

Lagging behind your exclamations!


My pauses..

Dreading your unkempt declarations.


I am collecting my senses from my obsession...


I will have to clean my wardrobe from longed conception...


So do we stop now?

Or start a new sentence?


And as I write, the breaks remind me

Of the dreaded future tense.


Tonight is the night that I change my hide,

My ring, my wet and my little eyes.


Tonight is the night when I change my name,

I have played enough, now I leave you untamed.

 

 

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Dear Me!

I had a big day and you had too
when Dear life smudged me
and pulled back through.

Like the two Niles across my face
and a Sahara on yours,
defintions seeked a word,
and they still do.

Dear skin why do you keep
all brown
when its all blue,
the all night ceiling,
and The Not Talking statue.

Bleed it,
till the pus leaves you,
whichever way it travels
the Cut marks me,
and so do you.

Dear madness may I ask you,
when you gave a birth in twilight’s hue,
did you write a name on a dark so lone,
or could you find a mate
in the morning dew?

Broken Es and Gs and Os,
make a pit hole in every drac’s motto.
So did she, and so did he,
and so do I,
like a big frothing hollow.
So I repeat Dear sucked low,
don’t suck it back
for the love of you.

Dear shadow,
now you may take turn,
as the dawn and the dusk
stop to follow.
Long arms and small feet
Push I to them,
As a cobbler mismatched
In a blacksmith’s crew.

Now Now
I have a nail too,
To draw my curse on every
Small and long shoe,
Try it if you want,
Sulk if you lose,
Dear shadow
But But
follow me through.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Ek Aetaraaf

Wo padhtey rahey khuda ko khudaayi samajh ker
Hum likhtey rahey ghazal ko rubaayi samajh ker
Na band-dagi khoj paayey na hi aashiqi mili
Phir kyu le gaye wo duaa ko duhaayi samajh ker

Hum na madhosh they na hi zeehosh they
Thodey nazron mein they thodey roposh they
Jo aajazi ko tumney yun cheena is tarha
Ab to jee uthey hain pehlay khaamosh they

Jo noor ko jala dey wo hiddat hum mein nahi thi
Jo kaif ko bujha dey wo tadap ghum mein nahi thi
Phir kyu lut gayi duniya or aabdeeda they chashm
Jab wo baat khaaksaar ke kalam mein nahi thi

Qaseeda ban gaye thi kuch inaayat is tarha
Tamashaa-e-zauq se na ho kuch shikaayat jis tarha
Likh diye fasaney yun nighah buland ker ke
“Naz” ban gayi ho khuda ki hadaayat jis tarha

Friday, September 7, 2007

A Tale Of Mundanity

http://kalenisis.deviantart.com/art/Does-it-Really-Matter-Whore-23623498


1) Dribbling through my shadows,
A mundanity flows, sometimes like
A bout of nausea, or a rain soaked
Earth; perhaps a whore sucks lives
In every breath of yours.



2) Sculpted heart, with a smile and a gaze,
Formless mass stacked in a chair,
A stain on the shadow like a poetic mistake;
Which way a corpse would fall
On a multipolar stage?


3) Two wings outgrown, and a womb to dry,
Shred every cell or bubble in joy,
Virgin Mary or Charpillon’s cry;
Would a dream be immortal in a parrot’s voice?


4) Marked by age, and the fate of some caterpillars,
Longing stems wait for springs to hide from lovers;
Poor trees perhaps they didnt know why,
Stripped or clothed, shadows lived for thy vile!