My hijab is a piece of imagination
a symbol of Islamic populism,
yet I get carried away by racists
misjudging my outer belief, only
for the sake of white extremists,
I cry and wet my birth certificate!
why am I a Muslim? Is it my choice?
I see a minute third-piece frame
down the lane-a sorrow to share,
it chokes my individuality- an insult
to my devotion for god, for life ;
yet, people have the time to call
us terrorists when they roam naked,
some pretending to be feminists
and lovers! Reality is a bitter piece
of chocolate melting away as time fades,
as it erodes the values we held before,
20th century is still marred by those
who wish to keep their history books
unfolded, un-kept and unstated;
a wish down the memory lane is needed
for it will awaken the senses of my fellow
brothers and sisters fighting over a shawl
covering my head!
 
I am curious and this curiosity is not a mere
joke, its the curiosity weaved into a cloth
hiding my sensitive and strong brain
from those “all-seeing” eyes around me,
pretending to expose my hair as if it was
something of utmost importance and value,
but friends,  it’s nothing, it’s a trick
by those who seek to humiliate me and
my faith for god, and I am sure that this
will echo for the decades to come,
for me, a hijab is – “ a piece of head
covering worn by women of the world”;
and I am sure that our fight for the right
to wear something will reprimand
and will be carried out by my fellow
successors and those who shed light
to our cries and woes in this big world
of ours!
[AMEN]

Doves sit in the square of marble,
and sunlight entombs the jewels
on top of the holy crescent – Islam,
a world full of white dotted capes
and those who pity on Jihad know this,
they are blind to his faith, his pattern
to lay in the glory of Muhammad,
hooking the world with blistering sins
9/11 a myth around, Syria to my heart,
the world sits abound to watch the hate
and the racist get away with my skates,
poorly lit candles line the streets
to the road defining my conscience and fee,
a long stubble of fleece flee the marketplace
eaten by the souls in Ramadan and Eid,
Europe is caught by the chaos, sadly odd
but satisfying for the gloomy eyes staring
at the long pages of Quran – Allah O Akbar….
I set my feet apart to the horizon of Qawwali
a prayer on the mat of holiness and a play-
ground for my state.

Before we take on our foot,
we are treated like cotton rags
a rattle in one hand, and a bottle in the other,
yet we **** up our salivating tongue
using our tiny limbs and pebble-sized fingers,
we are shown as dolls in museums
dolls who collapse, yet their struggle
is shown as lightweight and fed to the vultures,
—
Our ankles press against the sand grains
under the sweltering of the sun
and the rising of the moon,
we rise from our berths undead
to haunt our freedom and rights given in books,
—
I start the Mandela effect in 1800’s
manufacturing slaves as robots,
still our mascara hides underneath
and our stick is glued to our hand,
a hand of slavery.

I.
The cold concoction between us gets mixed up,
And sails with our boat away
Into a far, far away land
Landing in the ballerina’s footsteps – so elegant
With every twist and twirl setting us into motion,

II.
We kiss the lilac sky for purple reigns in soon
And red turns my jeans green with envy,
It’s worthless but worth a try, for a trial is limited in life
Abstract rumours stick like labels on my ankles,
For it is meant to wear off and die

III.
I hear every single untainted bell ringing in me
So, is Moses or Allah supposed to reside in us?
Or is it the temples where I have placed my mind
Near a well-lit hearth ?

IV.
I outcry my pain for pure pleasure,
And my tears justify the cause for my psyche thoughts
For it scrambles like whiplash streaks on my backyard fence
So fine that even I forget my existence as an introvert in this world,

V.
The pentagonal set is no different since it outshines the rest
And by the rest I mean the crack-laden windows of my home,
The place where I reside is a mere symbol to admire,
For my virtues are dearth in meaning;
I rest with my feet laid down

Infinity tattooed on her hand
Flinching using a looking glass,
It’s smothered thoroughly
By the tides of war
She turns black and gets offended
For racist elements persist,
Her image is burned by a nemesis
Making a mockery of herself,
Her fingernails clip off
But it still rests in her desires
Slitting the plank on racism,
She shells out all her insults
And burns it like crumpled paper
Sitting in her brain- a meme,
It grins at her, dead feelings underneath.

# PREVENT RACISM # BLACK LIVES MATTER.

A girl weeps in the limelight
Waiting for the days to end,

A ship anchors its weight
Where a girl weeps in the limelight
Waiting for the days to end,

The bird flies over the cloud
And a ship anchors its weight,
Where a girl weeps in the limelight
Waiting for the days to end,

Rain descends like stars
The bird flies over the cloud
And a ship anchors its weight,
Where a girl weeps in the limelight
Waiting for the days to end,

Bees hover over my memoir
Rain descends like stars
The bird flies over the cloud
And a ship anchors its weight,
Where a girl weeps in the limelight
Waiting for the days to end,

Earth sleeps in her lap
Bees hover over my memoir
Rain descends like stars
The bird flies over the cloud
And a ship anchors its weight,
Where a girl weeps in the limelight
Waiting for the days to end,

She descends to death !

A muse plays my harp
strings made of veins and thread,
cobblestones line over my body
having bric-a-bracs in the evening,

Rain splashes over shelves
and ego vapourizes like helium,
pyres burn my effigy tonight
stardust shines the bubble
tearing ashes like paper,

Warheads crack my halo from within
setting me up like the haze,
my lip syncs with the beats
dancing my limbs as it heeds away,

Clouds shower blessings upon my head
the chakra opens as if unbolted by wind,
clear conscience reigns inside me
and photos set us apart like fences .

One of the many forms of hate, racism is a monster that stares in the eyes of men and breathes fires of destruction,

Racism is another ism like classism is all about hate, it swallows men and women like each other,

It’s Satan’s child and devours races and classes, a black cross painted in my room,

Their tears reflect the haunted memories in the corner, of american blacks and apartheids I heard as stories,

The walls are blackened with their wails and weeps, but racists partied in the boulevard,

Billboards get fingerprinted by some hands, displaying the monster’s play - a stare kept alive,

The curtains unruffle at dawn, still the sun chokes the atmosphere with the slogans
Peace out haters !

Pyres burn Rome

Shadowed by the dwarfist colosseum

And down into the crown of Hades,


A jewel adores the red drape

And the olive branch resting on his head

Nero , slayer of Vandals and music


The foot horns imprint the glazed tiles

And a Lapis Lazuli paints his eyes

For hatred blinds him using cloth,


Blood soaks his gullible limbs

And frees his spirit in Hemlock

That I drank as well….

Pyres burn my heart tonight

I walk down the timepiece

So it can sip my niceties,

I thaw my soul in the outings

Tears I cried in 63’s,

Shoving my shelf off

Patching the game cards out,


The hotel room’s melting

Fuming the memories I kept for long,

My room is a mess, thinking the dead

I comb my strands recklessly

Bite it like my rusted shackles

The band is dying, I never mortify,


Seeing is a crime

Blindfolded like time,

I have worn out my shoes

Touching the tissues of my mistakes,

I act like Midas.

His finger locks my teeth together

And stitches the tip of my tongue

Into a warzone horizon of madness,

Homes are destroyed; families broken

And still we are lost in our own lives

He, who feeds on his mother’s carcass

Wrecks his caged gaze apart,

My minuscule arms set him free from the light

Guns

       Ships

               Tridents

Pierce my ear with a pint-sized shell

And swallows my religious sentiments

Smoke

          Ashes

                  Flesh

Their sentiments haunt me in memories

Cushioned and stuffed like quilt in my pillows

Burning the effigies into the toxins I swallowed

Down by the valley of romantic deaths

It sipped my soul out of my bottle XXXXX

Her hair dangles off her shoulder

A single ponytail made from diverse strands

Dressed in different hues , she walks

And embraces new adventures daily,

She teaches with a smile on her face

With words embedded in her mind and soul,

Her body resides with Shakespeare

And lives with his sonnets and plays

Yet beauty defines her physically

For her literature is unparalleled,

Her poems juggle everyone’s vision

Yet appreciations clung onto her journal !

And humbleness steps at her doorsteps

For a teacher has a fragile but strong heart,

She tries to ignore our mischieves

Sharing every moment and bit with us

Amidst the studious atmosphere,

Her earrings define every class she takes

For she will be printed in our memories’.

Her locks tied their bonds together
from their hearts down to their hands
the chains tie her feet ; for love conquers her soul,
she is left to drown in paradise
for her halo rests in his head,
but darkness flourishes through their future
it draws a line, beyond her sight,
a hammer shakes them slowly
trying to break them apart
and hangs a flower into the shade
to take her curtains of joy away
leaving her on the cliffside of lies,
she still took the poison and let it burn her throat
carved the words she thought were nice
truth cannot always be kept hidden?
she revolves around a blood-knife,
sadness strikes the smooth core
like glass bits stuck in her affectionate heart
shreds a little bit of innocence and moon dust
shaping her to carry out a new life,
but every second felt like a year
placing it on timber and out in the sun
with salt sprinkled on her wounds,
it still lurks in her brain’s alley
her locks got cracked but she found the key
to all her questions, which kept her at bay.

The cuckoo swarms the honey pots
padlocked using a mosaic lock,
it flutters like destiny with the clouds
faster than the flies hovering the swamp
blindsided by the sweet shops an inch away,
housing the colorful lamps and steel plates  ,
from a distance the cycle bells ring
like bells on the clock tower
shimmering under the hot sun ,
the infant is way too messy,
dropping the nutcrackers on the floor
kissed by his feet, he spits words
of strange alphabets hung by a loose coil,
the follicles press the spiraled mat at the door
wetting the smooth passage ahead ,
thrown by the hand-hugged steel ,
near the moss, a cycle stands
pedaled by a sweaty labor
encrusted like turquoise shades on his surface,



The honey *** lies empty ~~~

My demeanor is thy mistake
For thou wither down my spine,
and colour the world for thy sake
Where ye sit idled among mine,

The girdled pillar rests on his skin
and stares at me with his eyes,
The marble floor leaks my sins
for ages fly hence with the bise,

Cupid pierces thou with an arrow
Yet I smile with my grin teeth out,
It’s something thou cannot borrow
For I get hugged by a deadly gout,

The time is now begone
And mistresses art now drawn

Stars explode during daytime,
firecrackers produce my ashes
burnt to death ,
I see an oasis far away
soaking up in the desert
with the faux Pyramids behind,
sand flies into my humble vortex
revealing my secrets hid behind the curtain
it’s too passé !
my shoes run off with the tide
rubbing against the scales of a Tuna
my feeble conscience is hidden behind those doors
playing hide and seek for long,
I drink every thirst of water
capturing the swarm in my jar
margarita flows in the canals of Venice
creating drunkards by the mast,
my boat where Venus reigns
sinks in the depths of my soul
lifeless limbs swim my wretched body away
I embrace the black moon .

I.
Oh tears, make kaleidoscopes in your eyes and reflect back mine as well;
Till we awake in an unspoken praise of dimes and pennies alike forever.


II.
See, your wings are broken alike and feel my infinite breaths resting on them;
I will slither along your broken arm and be your one and only satellite.


III.
Hear, the crackling of my bones building up the refuge where I need to relax;
Makes me lose my self control and take my prints on the pages of the books.


IV.
Taste the pain in my tongue, feel the warmth give out everything to the stars;
Take the dart I have and pierce it up like a brooch up on my manly suit.


V.
Run, run through the vines and woods with you hair dangling it’s true;
Without bowing down to me even an inch close till you were with me.


VI.
Feel the cotton made out of tiger skin and making rashes on my forehead;
It’s so soft, still turning up my nails into a sharpened blade of truth.


VII.
Come, come closer to my heart and feel every breath from an inch of your skin;
Vaporizing the webs sprinkled all around like we are a prey in a trap.


VIII.
Here comes, the snuffing of our souls and curtains set everywhere like goals;
It’s a never ending metaphor for ours to give to everyone.


IX.
And now, our eyes are blinded by the arrogance we walked upon;
Still standing up even in our mortal expiry just like the rotten apples we passed down on our feet.

A seed broke through the sky
springs up in my altar
and inside the coffin
personifying my numb skin
with the fluid still rolling deep
skyrocketing the clock hands
and winding the old spring toy
into unwanted motion
orbiting around the arms
of a poor grandmother,
needling the old hammer struck nails
into the thick ledge gliding down
like paper planes that I made
racing like pigeons on the tree tracks
taking note of the honking of the cars
and vehicles whose breath is taken in
by our already blood-filled, puffed lungs,
the clogged drains are unblocked
to let my friendship sail on the waves
of the boat with my hands on seek,
the tired soles of the shoes are worn out
sending a letter everyday now and then
whilst sitting in the mirror of colours.

The orange-tinted frames
rest on her freckled nose
turning her eyes to droop down
till my finger, on the right hand
shows a letter written 25 years back,
the pink sky spreads on the faded
black – cloth worn by me yesterday,
petals imprinted in her canvas
reflect the beaded necklaces she wore
her hair loiters down till the tiles
when the shoes step on a single strand
of black beauties sensible to fall,
she sits and stands down the stairs
to a doorway opening to the starry sky
where a single sphere emits the light
revealing her aura and snowy skin,
her hands sway the threaded nets away
showing a more clean bricked wall
mortared with the beaming sand
taken from the hearts of the ocean,
her beauty lies in herself ,
where does your beauty lie ?

A small infant’s sparkling teeth
got stuck into the pinkish gums
his mouth foaming with saliva
and oozing out every pound of blood
from his mouth running parallel
across the veins with the hearing
of the pulse underneath the right hand
and ending till the ***** nails grown
on the edge of his fingertips,
the trampling of the crops by the
lonesome farmer shading himself
from the warm rays and turning his
skin into the charcoal mined from
the mines, his heart is expanding
breaking every bone in his rib cage
tearing his skin apart like the
cloth covered on the stitched canvas
depicting the scenes of corruption
and bribery every soul practices,
the clouds take away his numbness
felt on his left foot absorbing every
blood spent on the Himalaya
with the men dressed in Khaki
of all sorts, and again his
soreness burns up the poached pears
growing on the tree like the shells
raining down and passing through
every soul till the end of the summer,
until he himself grinds up in the
earth  using a pair of stainless
steel legs which cut off
his cord from that of the sky,
and the plant grows atop his figure
continuing the infinite line.

Paradoxes are insurmountable,
Hefty thieves rob the jewels,
Blinded by the ignorance.
The moon shines with a touch,
Of the charming musk lighted
By the fires in the greens and
Browns with the pale leaves.
The old rattles are made up,
Using the broken clay pieces
Which once adored my back wall
And clung onto it like coated nails.
Drip-drops are made by the streaks
With the vast colours in a queue ,
Facing the torments from the crows.
A fiery afternoon sets in a cool setting
And the glares have forcefully blinded me,
Drying up the rich worlds apart.
An old pipe is clogged with a spitted phrase
Blocking our views of the bonafide thoughts
But startling us to complete the puzzle.
The seats are full in the red-chaired theatre,
Enjoying the views of the painted cushions
And the cooked up company of friends…..

Shout like a mockingjay
Fire up your life away
Ricochet everything
Our life is a bliss

We can’t feel pumped away
So we dance ourselves tonight
Under the riverine bridge of our wishes
U and I, we are like lovers from the sky
Abandoned, running away,
Fix the broken hearts again,
Sync our lives once again
Blow out the candle of hatred
Open the curtains to the world
And shout it out away

Living as actors
Making the way through the stage
Feeling Joie de vivre
I know that we cannot live twice away
Shining like the sand
lose , empty, numb again
U and I clash inside
Our words mixed like magic
Shattered like glass bottles
We will dance our hearts out…….

My hands are stained with ink
something special, mysterious
I peer through it just to see
the fine glass of life, I
cherished the moment, my
conscience is yelling at me to stop
but I preferred to dig deep down
the blank page, trying to fill the
whole space with scribbles and all,
But I still can see the everyone
embroiled at me, watching me as I
grow, a scent of attractiveness can
be smelled from a distance, I start
walking towards it just to hold it
but it flutters its way across
from my fingernail to my arm, it just
sweeps down, the moment from its gaze
is an eternity past, together we shall
un jumble its façade to last, last
longer than a needle but sharper than a
stick of metaphorical endings,
it’s simply pen and paper, stuck inside my
head like gum, it is transcendent and
dreamy just like a wedding, I can sense
the atmosphere around it, concealed by a
seal of pure magic and honest lies, it just
goes on and on, fabricated.

I smell a hint of green
or a shade of blue
while sitting on the tree
full of branches and
branches and branches,
almost touching the sky
slipping my tongue on the
sight of the moon and
watching it from the corset
of the 30- storied building,
walking down the crevices of
personification and ideas,
thawing it with bittersweet nails
when suddenly, a tint of yellow
sparks sends shivers down my
spine but later washes away
like scenic scents of the mist,
and I am still standing,
lurking past the walls of
ignorance with the rich oxygen
atoms laid on my arms,
my lungs are pumping out
all the energy which just
puts a full stop across the shade
I know it’s a thickhead but I
let it slip away minding the gap,
and the sweet kid with his smile
puts the finger against the pad,
jotting down the hues.

We take time for every step
tears flow down quickly
it’s never late for every take
why are we waiting for the night to come
for the night to come

The moment is perfect
doesn’t matter what we expect
we can’t change when its planned
when the sun goes down
when the sun goes down

Hey, you never want me to change myself
why don’t you change yourself
take me along with you
along with you
yeah, along with you

The moment is perfect
doesn’t matter what we expect
we can’t change when its planned
when the sun goes down
when the sun goes down

we can carve our names
into the sunset
it’s only for seconds
when we push it up for ourselves

The moment is perfect
doesn’t matter what we expect
we can’t change when its planned
when the sun goes down
when the sun goes down

Hey, striving to achieve
something of good value
which we need to learn it
we need to learn it
yeah, we need to learn it

The moment is perfect
doesn’t matter what we expect
we can’t change when its planned
when the sun goes down
when the sun goes down
when the sun goes down
when the sun goes down.

Covered with flesh and blood, a youth is born
on October the first, started holding a rattle with
his five fingers, once he grew old he learned to
crawl and started by walking off beside the water
smooth sea waves knocked him down but he stood up
after a fresh start, days passed by him like a snowstorm
he can’t be hiding by the bushes while playing hide ‘n’ seek
with his mates till one of his friends found him awake
lost in his dreams, stumbled upon a rosy cliff
falling and falling as if he is running only in his dreams
not too soon he went to school to take lessons on life
years and years he grew a little, when finally he visioned his
dreams, rowing the lake down and climbing the hill up
just left to foster his life to a coaster he was grown up
with a smile showing his teeth when he met his partner in
a disco theater shimmering with old christmas candles
they both went to the church to tie a bond between them
lived happily everlasting when his son grew up and
amazed them, without knowing what death had planned for them
after sometime on a snowy december they sat by close to the
embers and at midnight the bell ranged around only to
know that they passed away and the trees shed their leaves
only to feel how they felt and after they were taken back
into the ground with a blessing still holding each others hand
even in silence, they whispered quietly their life together
it is the tragedy one should remember, this is the journey
one should undertake for a moment, pray to god that their
soul may rest in peace till the world ends.