'Denting daunting Baluchistan'
Drifting away
in different directions.
dissent is meant to depend on definite decorum of deplorable power.
Games are defensive attacks are offensive there is a place
where even dreams are dissenting displeasure. Divide it might not,diversity it may dwell in. Decode the code.
Let us speak the decree of a disease,
double edged sword of a delusion.
Depends on defending what?
demons or diamonds. Development or destruction.
Rights of defendants against defenders or defenseless.
demanding a discourse on a dream or destruction or development or decay of deadly descenders.
Say it loud, defenders of my country that you will protect my right to disagree with you.
Drifting away
in different directions.
dissent is meant to depend on definite decorum of deplorable power.
Games are defensive attacks are offensive there is a place
where even dreams are dissenting displeasure. Divide it might not,diversity it may dwell in. Decode the code.
Let us speak the decree of a disease,
double edged sword of a delusion.
Depends on defending what?
demons or diamonds. Development or destruction.
Rights of defendants against defenders or defenseless.
demanding a discourse on a dream or destruction or development or decay of deadly descenders.
Say it loud, defenders of my country that you will protect my right to disagree with you.
'Happy Birthday Mina'
Yours is a special day,
Like a canvas painting
A beautiful portrait. touched and brushed by the hands of angels.
You will always be an epitome of love that surrounds us all.
your first birthday recalls, all that is pure in this world.
All that is good, all that you will always be,
A sweet smile of heavens. You are special
You are ours
and you will always be
a pretty soul
a pretty little doll
Growing in a person
With all the love and heavenly feel.
This is time to be grateful, blissful and say a little prayer.
Mina, Happy Birthday.
your first year,
your new world
and only yours special day.
Yours is a special day,
Like a canvas painting
A beautiful portrait. touched and brushed by the hands of angels.
You will always be an epitome of love that surrounds us all.
your first birthday recalls, all that is pure in this world.
All that is good, all that you will always be,
A sweet smile of heavens. You are special
You are ours
and you will always be
a pretty soul
a pretty little doll
Growing in a person
With all the love and heavenly feel.
This is time to be grateful, blissful and say a little prayer.
Mina, Happy Birthday.
your first year,
your new world
and only yours special day.
Destiny's wild child
Come to your resting
afternoon,
draw close the sweet moon.
bring your worries a fitting doom.
come home to your resting afternoon.
Dare the sun,
the blazing heat of misfortune.
spill away, sprinkle
the dewdrop
of your sweet stride of belief.
Ah!
We with the broken wings
learn to fly high on simmering dreams
we sit next to you,
we pray and play along
in our imaginary world,
we create the absolute. we with so much dump of life on our souls
do not lumber in our walk we stand tall
we wink at troubling times
we win the wars inside our hearts
we stroll fast on a destiny strange charade
We play, we pray, we believe
With faith in unseen.
we go on and we don't let us down.
Not anymore.
we with broken wings make others fly.
We see the world with hope of a dying wish,
we believe in dying to be alive again
We will we can and we must
defeat the echoes of gloom
the whispers of grief
we must go on to set ourselves free
Come to your resting
afternoon,
draw close the sweet moon.
bring your worries a fitting doom.
come home to your resting afternoon.
Dare the sun,
the blazing heat of misfortune.
spill away, sprinkle
the dewdrop
of your sweet stride of belief.
Ah!
We with the broken wings
learn to fly high on simmering dreams
we sit next to you,
we pray and play along
in our imaginary world,
we create the absolute. we with so much dump of life on our souls
do not lumber in our walk we stand tall
we wink at troubling times
we win the wars inside our hearts
we stroll fast on a destiny strange charade
We play, we pray, we believe
With faith in unseen.
we go on and we don't let us down.
Not anymore.
we with broken wings make others fly.
We see the world with hope of a dying wish,
we believe in dying to be alive again
We will we can and we must
defeat the echoes of gloom
the whispers of grief
we must go on to set ourselves free
3rd June 2015
Don’t know if I can possibly decipher these mounds of absurd yet fiery thoughts in to articulate words. I seriously no longer wonder but desire the coherency so very much.
Imagine, a raw and crude passion dripping with so many emotions drifting away instead of reaching its logical end. Yes! Passion can also have an organized pattern leading to a rational path, people call it success, some say, “a moment of exhilaration”. Some align or maybe malign it by correlating it with Power, money, recognition. Some hop on to spiritual precision and name it peace, happiness, acceptance and so much more but what about tragic reality, when you, yourself become the biggest hurdle in fulfilling your passion, how could passion and love for something so strong can fail you so effectively? But being a Pakistani none of this sound absurd. It’s not, its flagrant reality that we 180 million feel for this country.
A boundless love,
A deep feeling,
A burning passion,
So strong, so true and so pure
So fragile, so perceptive, so volatile
Yet so fake
Like a case of dual identities,
A spy thriller with turns and twists
Where paranoia writes the story,
of your life not the truth,
A bizarre pathological existence
Echoing a sullen sense of belonging,
A classic love and hate affair
with your own existence.
Your lost identity
Your roots
Your very incomplete being
your love your Pakistan.
Imagine, a raw and crude passion dripping with so many emotions drifting away instead of reaching its logical end. Yes! Passion can also have an organized pattern leading to a rational path, people call it success, some say, “a moment of exhilaration”. Some align or maybe malign it by correlating it with Power, money, recognition. Some hop on to spiritual precision and name it peace, happiness, acceptance and so much more but what about tragic reality, when you, yourself become the biggest hurdle in fulfilling your passion, how could passion and love for something so strong can fail you so effectively? But being a Pakistani none of this sound absurd. It’s not, its flagrant reality that we 180 million feel for this country.
A boundless love,
A deep feeling,
A burning passion,
So strong, so true and so pure
So fragile, so perceptive, so volatile
Yet so fake
Like a case of dual identities,
A spy thriller with turns and twists
Where paranoia writes the story,
of your life not the truth,
A bizarre pathological existence
Echoing a sullen sense of belonging,
A classic love and hate affair
with your own existence.
Your lost identity
Your roots
Your very incomplete being
your love your Pakistan.
Tit for tat
Pat me on the back
I earned my blunders
Locked in wonders
Of my arctic eyes
I carried the world inside
I nourished the vicious words
I used them against me
I stutter to bring the rainbow
Bring my night
Sultry, Hazy , dark hues
Lost in meddling truce
Peace with sadism?
Breaking news
Of nothing new though
I am perturbed by you
I am intrigued to push you
to the fence
And hold you back from falling
Cruel and sullen
My being is done
My guilt is flamboyant
Flirts with indulgence
And rejoices the vice
Feed me,
Some sweet lies
Some more of sour lies
Please!!!
You can’t beat me
In beating myself
You can’t win me over
with love in your eyes
You can bring
Me to my knees
When you unleash the malice
Doomed, dark and hedonist
Wonders of my parallel world
Nothing concrete
Please don’t write
on my murky tomb
I resign in darkness of the follies
A jungle of nothingness
I cease to exist
In YOUR world
Yet I am,
tormentingly yours
Like an offense so pure
Pat me on the back
I earned my blunders
Locked in wonders
Of my arctic eyes
I carried the world inside
I nourished the vicious words
I used them against me
I stutter to bring the rainbow
Bring my night
Sultry, Hazy , dark hues
Lost in meddling truce
Peace with sadism?
Breaking news
Of nothing new though
I am perturbed by you
I am intrigued to push you
to the fence
And hold you back from falling
Cruel and sullen
My being is done
My guilt is flamboyant
Flirts with indulgence
And rejoices the vice
Feed me,
Some sweet lies
Some more of sour lies
Please!!!
You can’t beat me
In beating myself
You can’t win me over
with love in your eyes
You can bring
Me to my knees
When you unleash the malice
Doomed, dark and hedonist
Wonders of my parallel world
Nothing concrete
Please don’t write
on my murky tomb
I resign in darkness of the follies
A jungle of nothingness
I cease to exist
In YOUR world
Yet I am,
tormentingly yours
Like an offense so pure
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