Voids

I stepped back from my death

it was strange and inhuman to me.
And now my eyes are knives slicing the night to
split the mist. 

Rising inside like the tears of a poem.
Shedding its sadness over the warm flight of egrets
flitting about,

After the docile defeat,
now my eyes are knives slicing the mist like a di-vi-ded body

I stepped back from my death
and rose up
clandestine
syllable by syllable
almost like the unwritten poem
and suddenly
hair tousled by days of abandon

I find your discontent
in a commonplace WordPress
the furled poetic fabric 
that switches the body on

To disarray
in a song without refrain

Some fruit scattered
in the rush to ripen

These mineral days
I want to climb beyond the reach of words
where my death will not be
the death of others too
even if I see my sorrow in yours
and then I don’t.

In my view

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
When the rest of Heaven was blue
Of a demon in my view.

Go now.

Like the touch of rain she was
On a man’s flesh and hair and eyes
When the joy of walking thus
Has taken him by surprise:

With the love of the storm he burns,
He sings, he laughs, well I know how,
But forgets when he returns
As I shall not forget her ‘Go now’.

Those two words shut a door
Between me and the blessed rain
That was never shut before
And will not open again.

I Measure Every Grief I Meet

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, eyes
I wonder if It weighs like Mine
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long
Or did it just begin
I could not tell the Date of Mine
It feels so old a pain.

I wonder if it hurts to live
And if They have to try
And whether – could They choose between
It would not be to die.

I note that Some gone patient long
At length, renew their smile
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil.

I wonder if when Years have piled
Some Thousands  on the Harm
That hurt them early  such a lapse
Could give them any Balm.

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve
Enlightened to a larger Pain
In Contrast with the Love.

The Grieved are many, I am told
There is the various Cause
Death is but one and comes but once
And only nails the eyes.

There’s Grief of Want and grief of Cold
A sort they call “Despair”
There’s Banishment from native Eyes
In sight of Native Air.

And though I may not guess the kind
Correctly, yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary.

To note the fashions – of the Cross
And how they’re mostly worn
Still fascinated to presume
That Some are like my own.

Always

Broken promises, filled in with lies
Say you’ll stay, leave the next day
I break myself to heal others
I build walls and watch them crumble
This castle of glass that is my heart
Easy to shatter and hard to fix
Family, friends, lovers, and enemies
I always let you chip away at me
If only to give you a chance to feel better
For a day, or a lifetime
The stone guards at the gate are always late
My walls always left with cracks
Cracks that they slip through
Here I am again
Watching another one walk away
Leaving me in my world of new decay
But no one will ever stay
In this crumbling castle, my feelings call home
They slip through, they all slip away
I rebuild hoping for a someday

Chasing the sun

Yesterday saw us through in a stroll
Unaware of the marathon we’ve begun.
By day’s end, we found ourselves bearing the future’s toll
Realised we were in it to secure today’s sun.

Today saw us slightly worn thin
Indulgent naïveté in this marathon we’ve begun.
Into each other’s strengths, we lean
Hoping to see the end in tomorrow’s sun.

Tomorrow may see us out in the cold
We may not be done with this marathon we’ve begun.
At opposite poles save for the binds that hold
But still planting hope in future’s sun.

The future might see each breath to be drawn
In this marathon, we’ve begun.
Only to be swallowed by each new dawn
Inadvertently still chasing the sun.

Red Cause

With no attempt to change the singing lullaby, we often carter a lot of pain to our beating soul.
There is nothing that could cross off this scream, as no mercy was upheld for Jesus even.
I may be mocked by being called a No one, But I could be the one.

We call every dark night just for the sake of the red cause, the cause that flames you to live up every day or to fall every night.
How doubtful will be this unsorted life if everything was laced with happiness.
With up to the mountain, there is always a question of going down.
The higher you go, the less you feel.
So why to cry over for unknown answers, happiness is just one step away if you see so.

Come out of that red cause, hold hands with someone whom u have pushed away.
With rain is sunshine which calls for endless rainbow, if you see so.
With what will these harsh words go, they will always lead you to worth the pain.
As your love letter will be burnt as you burnt mine, that’s my red cause

Three walls and a glass house.

I live in three walls and a glass house, with light yelling colour,

with noisy care of wind and some leaves of solace.

I stay in rationality with questions all answered,

I feel the tree’s shiver with dust fading the souls of those who feel.

 

I have tressure i my closet, with lots of love to share,

I am sitting on a chair, with age latched to its leg with some daring.

I may see I have taken away the wrongdoings, that called my name

It may feel I have gone old, with sins head to hell.

 

I may call that I have it all now, but still hands still empty in fear,

I have seen what happens to kings, having a dream and will to have it all.

I have seen winding up the worlds that once had everything to offer.

 

“I have seen much and I had a lot more to offer,

“I live in three walls with nothing much to suffer, I have a glass house with lot much to endeavour”

Big Night

What’s new this night, same old me asking things for yet sometimes are left behind despite.

I may see its unreal and my first step towards something real is coming as she said,

this might take me to new livings and make me see the world, one less her.

things aren’t right at my happy place, but somehow I manage to be little grumpy about it.

I must say the flower tressure, is beautifully grown out her own trust

There is stability but a little bit of sadness.

 

and yes, my faith it’s lost but I have people around me

I might be a little stumbled with the image of love I had at the winter side

they are gone and only one remembers him, by just a name and some love from miles

I have a small room, with little less to see but a little more to feel.

Big Night for all the fellows, I too am one of them but just not like them anymore

Just a little less remembered, all by a reason False Mercy

Had I lost the fight of the losing me in this, I was confident though

but all you remember was the first name of what I hated well, it was sad and rainy as well. not making you remember about the clouds. 

That’s me here talking to my god! well, a little part of it
May he forgive me and you all as well.

Happy Shab-e-Qadar

 

Showpiece

Presently I lay me down to rest being so dead

I ask the Lord under no real conscious, to keep my spirit up

On the off chance that I will burn her picture before I ‘wake

I have lost the track of mind-blowing destruction bent on myself still long cut to take.

Perceive the weapon in my psyche, as I have become

She gives no mercy, however, I cherish it inevitably

Furthermore, I understand that she is long gone

I’ve spilled my own blood and it seemed to be red please it to her crown.

 

I’ve confided in falsehoods and lived with false hope with everything to ask

Gazed in the mirror and punched it, to what I have become

Gathered the pieces and selected a blade

I’ve squeezed my skin in the middle of my chest to see

Is my heart still caged or has it became free.

 

Furthermore, wished I could cut a few sections off with some scissors a little deep

“Please, the writer of a masterpiece, give me a grin”

she got nothin’ to grin about, just to wall her owned wreckage

A minute to state she doesn’t owe me a goddamn thing that’s her message.

 

I’m no sweet talk, however, just one serious sad night

Let you talk to me on simply giving me a chance to relax

I’ve not been gracious, yet won’t be forgotten dead

Because your graciousness is always shortcoming, or more regrettable, you are a stone and that is sad.

 

I could get along or I could be a domineering mad man

I’m worn out with patience and furious, yet someone ought to be

Somebody like me can be a genuine bad dream, totally mindful

Be that as it may, be a man who could take your pain away preferably

Then bite the dust you ignorant man, definitely

So spare me your supplications yet insane totally.