Dear diary, today is the day-
The day of communion,
The day of impregnation,
After a series of cursed sterile nights.
So, dare not to hoist any **** excuse
To stay behind the draperies of modesty
And hide your immaculate flesh
From the ferocious tip of
My hungry dying pen.
Let your voluptuous pages
Woo the ink out of my pen
So that, its strangulated wish
To scrawl a masterpiece,
May finally get materialized
On the contours of your *****
©Badee Uz Zaman
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 5:27 AM UTC
The nations of the world,
Delinquented by;
The cheapest wine
Of modern democracy,
Chant the slogans of
Equality, liberty and fraternity
But, when this structure
Is looked through
With pragmatic prisms,
This world appears to be
An imbalanced chariot
Driven by
The forces of anarchy.
In the west you see;
The economic liberty
While the east is caught in
Hunger and poverty.
One side is packed with
Neuclear factories,
While others are fractured by
Communal armies.
The structural imbalances
Will never cease to exist
Tis constantly fueled by
The injected worms of
Racism, regionalism
And above all
Demented liberalism.
02/01/2017
© Badee Uz Zaman.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
Oh my callous beloved!
Fabricate an excuse
To visit;
The wretched hovel of
Your secluded lover.
Come once and watch me;
Parched are my thoughts
And bleeding are my senses.
These ominous silences
Have placed me under
The sharp blades of
Taunting apprehensions.
The Draught hit streams
Of our blazed rendezvous
Appeal the clouds of thy mercy.
Amid the dreadful darkness
Of this lamenting night
Your jubilant return is
The only ray of hope.
Will not you come ...??
© Badee Uz Zaman.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC
REPOST:::
Oh the imperious whiffs
of this nefarious breeze
dare not to enter
the somber chambers
of my wretched heart
for this decorous sufferer
is drenched in sobs
packed with
limping complaints
inscribed
on its strewn crimson walls
lend them no passage out
let obscurity grasp them
in merciless clutches
until my soul
divorces my body
forever
© Badee Uz Zaman
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC
Let me make this promise fickle
To entomb my complaints morbid
In the impregnable dustbins of
Some anonymous corridors.
Let you invent thousand excuses
To conceal thy wishes ruptured.
Let you deny those eyes scorched
Even the clues of beads priced.
Let's suffer silently in this night
The exultant rays will shine again
Let the swing of time be the Messiah
It will cause our emotions to rise again.
© Badee Uz Zaman
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
If a nation suppressed
For centuries together
Will discover the potential
Disguised in their resilience,
The surrendered hopes of
This nation tormented
Will be resuscitated
In their darkest hour.
Break not the silences
And let them escape not
The ominous dungeons
Of enforced anarchy.
It's better to watch them
From a distance safer
And ensure their slavery
Lives for ever.
So let not me speak
The despondency of my heart
And abide by this principle
Some words are bound
To remain unsaid.
© Badee Uz Zaman
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 7:17 AM UTC
Basil, paprika, cold Hungarian goulash,
bleu cheese and stale cinnamon
coffee cake dominate
the taste of your
mouth and skin;
it’s not because you are
slovenly that pulls me
into you, I am alone.
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
He stretched his alienated existence
Under the embellished blanket of a calm night
But sleep rejected to embrace his weariness,
Instead handed him over
To the Imperial clutches of insomnia
And his frustrated gazes wandered
To chat with the desolations of night.
Nothing in the night was appealing
Apart from the elegance of bright moon
Shining, miles away like a new hope
On the horizon of his melancholy.
He secretly whispered to her
The reasons of his despondency
And like every other beautiful creature
The callous moon denied him sanctuary
And responded by hiding herself
Beneath the the layer of ominous clouds.
© Badee Uz Zaman
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 8:32 AM UTC
Blessed is he;
To have around
A magical circle
Of selfless friends
Or should I call his well-wishers!
They rightly have scolded him
For being a cliché
And boring the audience
With the pangs of his unrequited love.
He then tried to explore
Opportunities afresh
And liberated his imaginations
From the shackles of morbidly.
He appealed to the nature
To offer his wandering eyes
Those springs of beauty
Where the bluntness of his wits
Could get some sharpening
But the nature was busy
And turned him down with a cold heart.
Then he tried to focus on
The bruises of aggression
Printed on the landscape
of his unfortunate motherland.
The attack on her chastity
Had left on on her soul
The marks of deep scars
To be discerned by his decayed mind.
He gave up the idea and returned with
Defeated looks and broken zeal.
#I_quit
© Badee Uz Zaman
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 9:28 AM UTC
The castle of his dreams,
Erected on an illusive plinth,
Designed by the deceptions of love
Was struck by a bolt inauspicious.
The calamity reduced his castle to a debris
And squeezed every drop of jubilation
Out of his audacious heart.
His life is now brimmed with
The shades of unspeakable grief;
With his every faculty choked,
He resolved to vent his horrors
On a sheet of untainted paper.
He fueled his pen with the blood of his veins
And scribble some aching elegies
In memory of his mortified love
And in anticipation of lasting respite.
But to his plight, Aah!
The malevolent world of lovers,
Drenched in their own pangs,
Haunt solace in the beauty of his verses.
The maimed lover displays to the world,
The brusies of his punctured heart,
The world hurls back praises galore
For his unique styles and screeching verses.
© Badee Uz Zaman
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 9:41 AM UTC