Sunday, September 16, 2007
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
when its all blue,
the all night ceiling,
and The Not Talking statue.
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.
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.
I have a nail too,
To draw my curse on every
Small and long shoe,
Try it if you want,
Sulk if you lose,
follow me through.
Monday, September 10, 2007
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
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!
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Hawaaon ne dareechon key rukh badal diye
Jab khawabon per mohrein si waqt ne laga di
Nazar kya tasweer kya tasawwur badal diye
Sadiaan si beet chali hain yun saayey ki aas mein
Tumney jo badley ghar, humney dil badal diye
Ab kya karein shikwa jab khud hi harjaa’ee they
Kisi aashiq ki tehreer-e-ghum ne muqaddar badal diye
Laut aao ab ke “naz” kuch na baaki hai
Teri chaukhat ki sarhad ne takhallus badal diye