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Tanzim Ahmed Aug 3
If you see a man who is broken,
don't always think someone has hurt him.
Maybe his own expectations have broken him into pieces.
Tanzim Ahmed Aug 3
It is better to walk on a path that is dark but leads you to light
than walking on a path that is bright but leads you to the dark.
Sometimes bad start can have an unexpected ending if you are patienet enough.
Tanzim Ahmed May 4
পেন্সিল-এ আঁকা আছে সাদাকালো শৈশব
ড্রয়িং খাতায়
বিস্ময়ে লেখা আছে বিস্মিত শৈশব
গাছের পাতায়।
মেঘের টুকরো জুড়ে ছবি আঁকা শৈশব
ঘুমোয় বেঘোরে
তাকেই খুঁজছি আমি, সেই হাসি শৈশব
রাত্রে ও ভোরে।
প্রথম বৃষ্টি-ছাঁটে সোঁদা-গন্ধ শৈশব
উড়ছে আকাশে
হালকা তুলোর মতো, এলোমেলো শৈশব
নৌকোয় ভাসে।
শরতের রোদ দেখে আনচান শৈশব
দুপুরবেলায়
বাড়িতে থাকে না আর, ঘুড়ি-ধাওয়া শৈশব
বাইরে পালায়।
হাসছে হাসছে দ্যাখো নীলরঙ্গা শৈশব
ভোরের উঠোনে
লুকিয়ে বাঁচিয়ে রাখি ওই মধু-শৈশব
গোপনে গোপনে।
Tanzim Ahmed Feb 3
I post this picture with the caption
"Where do unsent texts go?"
This guy comments "maybe there's an afterworld for them.
Maybe
Maybe."
Maybe is a hopeful word
All my poems are an extended version of "maybe", maybe
See,
Maybe I didn't love you
Maybe you loved me too
Maybe the last time you kissed me,
You were drunk on someone else's memory
Maybe the last time I said 'closure'
I didn't really know what it meant
My tongue is a ****** up pretentious wannabe dictionary
I say things I don't really understand
So I write **** lamenting the same **** in ten thousand different ways
'Cause **** me
I don't drink but I visit bars
I met this guy in the bar and he told me he killed his lover
I asked him how and he said
He wrote poems
He wrote poems like 'you're an *******'
Poems like 'my beer tastes ******* better than you'
Poems like 'who the **** waits for your texts'
Poems like 'I hate you'
Poems like 'I hate you but I miss you'
The guy said "never trust a poet when he's drunk and never trust a lover when he's sober,
Better, never trust them at all
Especially when both of 'em are the same person"
The guy said "I'm no walking talking renaissance tragedy
And you should stop writing me like one"
I said I haven't
And he said that I surely would 'cause I'm in a bar drinking nothing
But listening to his ****
I said maybe
I forgot him and read plath this entire January
Quoting plath from her journal
"Not to be sentimental, as I sound, but why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to learn that love can never come true, because the people you admire like Perry are unattainable since they want someone like P.K, to learn that you only want them because you can't have them, to learn that you can't be a revolutionary."
But see, my love for you was revolutionary
I died choking myself on all the unsaid, unsent things
I took birth again only to love you in this smooth strawberry-and-cream mother-Goose-world,
Alice-in-Wonderland fable
I brought the sun to its knees, again and again
I ate it up
But maybe sylvia was right
Maybe
I only wanted you 'cause I couldn't have you
Maybe the boy who lived 100 years ago
Was a ******* romantic
Who didn't know how to love without lamenting, so he died
100 years fast forward
The boy still doesn't know how to keep his emo **** together
He wears pyjamas with big pockets
He hides himself in
On weekdays,
He cries and fills up buckets on weekends, He does laundry
This whole thing is a big rant
And not a poem
Because I don't know how to write poems like 'my beer tastes ******* better than you'
Cause I don't know how a beer tastes like
So if I ever taste beer (I probably won't), I'll gather the courage to text you up
And say 'my beer tastes ******* better than you'
But just learn that 'never trust 'em at all'
I know it sounds cliché
But you're Perry
And I hope you find your P.K
And I hope your P.K isn't looking for some other Perry
Who's looking for some other P.K
Cause girl,
That ****
hurts
And there's no "maybe"
in hurt.
Tanzim Ahmed Jan 31
A day will certainly come,
As sure as we breathe.
When our creator will ask of us,
What we did to aid the oppressed?

On that day,
As surely as who created you,
Created me too.
It will not only be about religion,
But also about humanity.

When carefully planned and organised jets,
Launched rockets
To bomb populated refugee camps,
Schools and apartment blocks.

At a defenceless opposition,
Without an air force or navi,
Heavy weapons and artillery,
Command or armour.

That's not a war, that's never a war!
It's ******!
It's a total cold blooded massacre!

As a woman shot in the stomach,
Gives birth to a cold blue baby.
And a world across oceans changes
Channel turning into the next world cup champion.

It was never about taking sides,
Israel vs Palestine!
There is a truth,
To which we must remove the blindfold of ignorance.

Searching for a voice of right
Amongst the crisis of pain, hatred and anger.
The sign in a city,
Where there is too much to see.

Finding peace amongst people who are not ours
Because I see hypocrisy of nations,
Who stand for human rights
But only when the human shares a matching ideology.

I see hypocrisy amongst media,
Where a million wounds and shades of blood,
Are inked into black and white letters.
Today I read, "An Israelian was killed whilst a dozen of Palestinians died."

They turned humans into numbers,
Quantitative data.
They couldn't possibly desensitize it any further.
I mean look at the verbs in which they phrased that.

I see hypocrisy amongst Muslims,
Who stand equal and united.
Yet they too turns back
When the interest is not beneficial
And the pitiful nation falls divided.

Whether it is prayer,
A striker, a boycott or vigil,
A protest or petition,
Maybe even a donation.

There's a thousand way to help,
But very few who do.
So what did you do?
Was it out of sight, out of mind for you?
Tanzim Ahmed Jan 31
I loved you for 1095 days of summer
And 2047 days of winter
I added 500 more days to March just to see you more
And 965 more days to October to love you
I loved you so much that I lost the count
I went to the nearest store
And bought everything I could get my hands on
The shopkeeper sold me a soap for my skin,
Green tea for health,
Some nice perfume
There was nothing to make the heart forget things
I asked her ten times if I should leave
Hoping she'd ask me to stay a bit longer
She didn't
I was no longer mad at you
I grew my hair long
And tucked your memories all over my locks
I didn't comb my hair for hundred days
So that your memories don't fall off
My mama called my hair mess
And I wanted to ask her, "does it smell of her?"
But I didn't
So I went to the store again
This time to the shoplift love
The shopkeeper told me I won't find such stupid, useless stuff there
I laughed at the way he called love "stupid, useless stuff"
I laughed so much that I cried
I didn't ask if I should leave
I left
I thanked God for not putting me into a family of cardiologists
In my sleep, I stole the flute of Ranjha,
Playing which he had mesmerized heer
Next morning, I burnt all the Shakespeare's books
And patted my heart for saving Ophelia
And laughed that now Romeo won't kiss Juliet
Rosalind won't meet Orlando
That their mother won't call them mess
I promised I won't write you another poem
I cursed you
I wondered if you ever told your mother anything about me
If you read this, tell your mother the boy still writes you poems
He doesn't know how to stop, where to stop, and when to stop
He struggles with fullstops in his sentences
His poems are as structureless as his love,
As long and messy as his hair
(Just things put together hastily)
Asking, "does it smell of her?" to everybody who reads them
Tell her the boy loved you and it fu*d him up
That he may be a bad poet,
Or a bad shoplifter
But he's even worse lover
He loved you
Too much even when
He shouldn't have- Tell her he loved you and you lost him.
Tanzim Ahmed Jan 26
I loved everything about her
Except the way she treated me.
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