Those broken bricks told a story
Of a place where dreams were made.
A place which drowned in the floods
Those broken bricks are all that remains.

I've met many men in my life
and not all the men are the same.
They are like a fruit basket
Berries and bananas, apples and grapes.

Some men like their coffees darker.
Some men like their beds unmade.
Some men like to smoke all night.
Some men like to drink all day.
Some men like their women with curves.
Some men like their women fake.
Some men like to hide their smiles.
Some men like to hide their pain.

I've met many men in my life
and not all the men are the same.
They are like a fruit basket
Berries and bananas, apples and grapes.

when i think about my future
all i see
is an old women with white hair
and crumbled skin
sitting near the fire
with a typewriter and a cup of tea
and dogs of every kind
sleeping around her
as she writes her life down
for the last time.

sitting in front of the television set
watching an explicit movie and
smoking the seventh cigarette
you shout at your little kid
to shut up and behave properly
the bell rings
"tell daddy is not home
daddy is somewhere out
and he also left his phone"
the kids lies
you smile
now go to your bed it's getting late
you shout again switching the channels
the kids tries to resist
instead he gets badly hit
"relax he is still a child, how else will he learn?"
with that you get back to the television.


years later
you sit here alone
wondering where did
you go wrong.

I was sitting alone in the bar watching people getting wasted when she came and sat right next to me. I didn't notice her much until she asked me, "Can I buy you a drink?"
I looked at her and smiled, "What's the occasion?"
"Nothing, just finding a perfect way to finish my celebrations ."

And that was it. A drink led to a couple of more till we were no different than the people in the bar.

Around 3 at night, I woke up from what seemed like a dream and found her sitting in front of the mirror. I watched her as she brushed her hair and colored her lips red again.
"Where are you going?", I asked her as she got up to leave. My question made her stop in the door.
She didn't turn back, just whispered,
"Where all the dead people go."

By the great river of Indus, I sit all alone
As I try to find the answers in my own reflection.
Can these waves guide me to my destination?
I can't turn back; I am far away from home.
The ripples are forming just by throwing of a stone.
Will I ever find my salvation?
I envy the birds that can fly without any hesitation.
Oh the great river of Indus! I am all alone.

The soft breeze of the water whispers a song
As if it had heard every word that I said
Or is it just an illusion in my head?
I don't know but the river understands me.
The journey of the great Indus is indeed long.
So I'll just sink down silently.

I was sitting against a black tree
with my arms wrapped around my chest.
My skin was grey with black spots
and my eyes were closed, as if dead.
Then appeared a red spot of blood
in the center, around my heart.
A perfectly shaped circle it was,
a drop rolled down and it all fell apart.

You're not born with any religion
But
a pure heart
that only holds
a place
for
God.

He was the child kissed by the devil himself
whereas she was sent down from the heaven.
When combined, they extinguished the fire of the hell
and burned the wings of the angels.

The shadows of the hell called them saints
whereas in heaven they were known as sinners.

Every person has a personal hellhole
where they hide under the sheets of dark
and share their sorrows with the unknown.
A place where they feel welcomed when
the whole world seems to fall apart.
A place where all the depressed and lonely
meet each other with broken hearts.
There's a hellhole that's far away from this world
that feels like heaven despite all the wrath.

i sat there in the hot bath tub
looking carefully
at the bubbles rising up
around my legs and my chest
the water touched my skin
scrapping off what was left;
all that pain and sorrows and hurt.
i took a deep breath and loosen myself
relaxing every muscle
untangling every thought
drowning all the words.


sitting there in the hot bath tub
i closed my eyes
forgetting it all;
the water, the bubbles
the pain, the love.

sitting there in the hot bath tub
i washed you off
along all the dust.

She took her clothes off and stepped into the hot bath tub. The water when touched her skin, scrapped off the dust. The naked flesh of the wounds stung but the pain was sweet. For hours she tried to drown herself in the tub of her sins.
The water may have cleaned her but all those fragment oils could not remove his scent from her skin.

Sometimes all we need to do is to wander off
to a place of our own
in our twisted and dark thoughts.
Just to see the light in our life
that we seem to ignore
and cry about.

The wind sings me to sleep as I lay between the dancing lavenders.
"Oh child of the dawn, your kingdom awaits
as it watches the birds fly back everyday.
Oh child of the dawn, come back home
you're to be buried where you were born."
I clutch the white rose in my hand tightly, whispering like a scared child, " I am back, mother nature. I have returned back home."
The lavenders lean down and kiss me one by one, accepting me as one of them. I close my eyes floating like a feather with the wind to the wonderland.

The particles of wind still carries me around, every time it sings the lullaby of the dead.

The red drops of blood sat there on the white crystals, creating a master piece worth sharing in a museum.
The artist stood nearby holding the dagger that served as a paint brush to paint those beautiful strokes. And like every artist, he signed his art work but by his ****** fingerprints.
Her dead body was frozen underneath the layers of the snowfall that kept her warm.


He turned her into an undiscovered art.

There's a mason jar under my bed
It lights up every night
There's a part of your soul I keep in there
It reminds me of your secret side
That no one but I had seen
In the darkness of the darkest nights
That part of your soul now belongs to me
So don't worry darling, everything will be alright.

Just don't forget about it someday
I'd be waiting with that mason jar
on the rooftop that's painted with wishes
that we wished on those wishing stars.

I stood in front of the mirror but I couldn't recognize the face looking back at me. Those dark eyes, completely black, making holes in my flesh just by looking. The curls falling on her shoulders perfectly. Her face white as a ghost and lips red as blood. The scars on her face, screaming out the tale of her sufferings.
I touched my face and so did she.
"Who are you?", I asked her in confusion.
The reflection smiled and leaned in as if coming out of the mirror and whispered, "I am the monster that he turned you into before leaving."

I saw a nameless grave one day
no flower, no tear, no stone on it.
and I thought,
how lucky this lad is
sleeping peacefully
without any disturbing!

Wearing my sins
I plead in front of you
With teary eyes
Not for forgiveness
But for help
To cover up my lies.

He took out old pictures of her, one by one
Stared at them for hours, going through every detail.
Her deep dark brown eyes looking at him
And the silky waterfall of hair she had, took his breath away
Her delicate little hands, how much he loved them
And those soft lips that were a gateway to his heaven.

He sighed, putting the pictures back in the old trunk
He realized she was long gone now, never to return.

In the dark dark corner
of our secret little land
We sat side by side
when you turned and leaned in,
planted a soft kiss
in the hollow part of my neck
Then whispered to my heart
"Please don't ever leave me."
There and then,
I promised
making the stars as the witness
as you marked me yours
that I'll never leave.

I have lived a thousand lives and died a million deaths.
And somewhere in between, I finally found myself.

They tell me I create magic with my words
They don't know that you are the one
providing me the magic dust.

You ask me about these reckless teenagers?
Let me tell you what you don't know about them.
They are broken. Broken and used over and over again.
Still they are young at hearts and ready to risk everything that's left of them.
They are immature yet their stories will make you feel like some seventy year old
for they have more to tell than you. They might not have seen this world
but they have felt it with all their hearts
and they have tasted young love on the tips of their tongues in those dark rooms with the scent of whiskey.
"Irrational." you say? Love does not need any eyes to see.

You ask me about these reckless teenagers?
Let me tell you that they have nothing ahead of them
yet they have their whole lives planned out joining the stars at night
stupid it may seem but your reality is a non-existent dot in front of their dreams
and they look useless wasting their times but listen to them once. I dare you. Listen to them and you'll realize
what a different universe lies inside them.
Their words will take you places and you'll lose yourself to their tales.
Tales that are from all over the world, about every different tribe, with a new character every time.

You ask me about these reckless teenagers?
Let me tell you that they won't give up. They won't sit back
they are like a huge clan and they are ready to live. Live not just survive.
They are the bad fish that ruins the whole pond yet still are sold in the highest price.
They will not leave any empty gaps rather they will leave a whole legacy behind.
And their death won't be saddening for anyone. Not you. Not me. Not themselves even.
Their death will be like a celebration. Like fireworks in the night sky.
Yes, that's right. Their deaths will be the marking of another great life.

You ask me about these reckless teenagers?
Let me tell you what you don't know about them.
Look at their smiles and then peak inside.
Sir, I bet you, you'll feel like a little child.

On a board with wheels, I roll myself around
on the streets of this city
from dusk till dawn.
I observe how people travel in
expensive cars and wear better clothes
yet they look troubled to me
whereas I find happiness
on the side of the road
where I sit all day and beg
for some money.
With the help of my hands
I push the wheels for I don't have
working legs.
But I don't complain
at least I am blessed with the rest.

Who are you to say that you know me better than everyone else?
Even my shadow is unaware of my doings when I enter the darkness.

I see the moon as something
more than just a huge ball in the sky.
I see the starts as something
more than just twinkling lights.

They tell me I am a misfit
who sees things differently.
I guess they are the blind ones
trapped in their own bodies.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” I shouted as I heard my brother calling me out. The whole village was gathering around the grand fire that was lit near the whispering trees. Every year, on the eve of the ninth full moon, the whole village was gathered around the fire to share stories and sing the old folk songs. I never knew why but it always soothed my soul in a very bizarre way.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes traced down my dark brown curls sitting on my shoulders down to the pendant of the snake that I was wearing.

My old nanny had gifted it to me this morning. “This was made when you were born, my little angel.” I brushed the fine bronze carving with my fingers. The details of the snake’s skin felt so real. The snake was curled up as if trying to hide in himself. “What’s the snake for, nanny?” I had asked her, flipping the pendant over. There was something about that little piece of jewelry that I could not take my eyes off it.“Do you know that a snake sheds off its skin as it grows a new one?” she had replied softly. “But they don’t just remove the old skin; they also remove the parasites along.”

Her words echoed in some distant part of my mind. “Snakes shed their skins.”

I stepped out under the open sky. The stars were all lined up as if waiting for my arrival. Everybody stopped chattering, even the great fire burning turned silent.

The old nanny broke the motion and moved towards me. “Come, my child”, she welcomed me with a smile. With that everyone lowered their gaze and bent down on their knees. The local women started singing the old folk song that I heard since I was a kid but only now the words made sense to me.

“It’s finally the time for the snake to shed its skin,
on this night, we all gather to welcome our new princess
to whom we vow to obey and please
who’ll rule the kingdom of the whispering trees.”

The icicles were melting
I knew they were
But what I didn't know was
that one night a whole glacier will melt down
And I'll be stuck between the choice
to climb back up to the top
or
stay under the ground.

He rose from a pile of dust and found himself standing among the dead.
A man with wings called him out, "Boy! You're next."
He walked on the clouds towards the glowing light
Where began the trial of his life.

Before the final verdict he asked God, "You saved me from one hell just to throw me into another?
Will I ever deserve something other than heat and fire?"
"I won't send you to hell", God replied. "You deserve heaven in your after life."

On his way to the eternal bliss,  he witnessed people rotting in hell.
They were wearing black suits yet their faces could not be recognized.
"Who are these men punished in such a way?" he asked the angel
"The men who were comfortable enough while you were dying.
They were too proud to wear their suits in heat
But had no heart to help the poor people in need."

When she picked the pen up, she created wonders that left him awestruck.
She made the whole universe dance around her words.
And unknowingly she exchanged all his darkness with her soul.

She entered her son's bedroom and found him playing hide and seek.
"Shhhh mommy. Don't make a noise, he'll figure out where I am hiding."
His mother smiled and ruffled his hair, "Okay sweetie, just come downstairs for dinner when you're done playing."

"Honey, what's our son up to?", her husband asked her while reading the newspaper.
"The same like always, playing with his imaginary friends.", she laughed.

Inside the cupboard, their hiding place, they whispered slowly.
"Don't tell mommy that we play together, she'll think you're crazy."
"But you're my brother, I am sure they'll be very happy."
"No. You don't get it, for them I'll always be the dead baby."

I found myself drowning in the great old Black River. I was struggling to swim but a huge weight pulled me down into the darkness. I looked around and what I saw, made me scream. The bubbles of the air, that I was saving, were the last thing I saw as I got free from the struggle and let my body float wherever the waves would take me.

I was pulled down by the ugly version of myself.

Dr. Zahid always came up with logical explanations
whenever his patients shared their dreams.

Until the day his little daughter walked into his clinic
and covered in colors, showed him her first painting.

The angels came down to me as I enjoyed the sleep
They woke me up and asked me to answer their quires.

"We've looked over your records and we don't know whether
to punish you with the sinners or reward you as the saints."

I smiled and told them, "O Angels of My Lord, I deserve to be punished
for I have sinned long enough that I had to change."

Maybe when this is all over
and the children will sleep peacefully at night,
we'll sit around the burning fire that
would be made out of  the bones of the dead
and sing the love songs underneath the open sky
as a tribute to those who have left.

With a broken heart, he entered the cafe. A gush of wind kissed his face but he was too lost to notice.

"What would you like this evening, sir?", the waitress asked him cheerfully.
He kept staring his hands as he said, "Just a cup of tea."

He wondered how he'd ended up this way? Last night, everything was okay. When she suddenly climbed out of bed and went away. He woke up to an empty bed and a letter left in the hallway.

"Here's your tea, sir.", the waitress interrupted his thoughts.
"Thank you.", he  whispered.

The sip of tea, went down his throat. The warmth somehow soothed the pain. His muscles relaxed and he smiled to himself.

"Excuse me, ma'am.", he called out the waitress.
"Yes?", she replied as she returned from doing tables.

An awkward silence followed. Maybe they stared for a bit too long.

"Do you need anything else, sir?"
Butterflies invaded his stomach as he blurted,
"Yes, I need love."

People tell me that I write words that leave them breathless
as they crawl down their spine, kissing their hearts.
Little do they know that the same words escape by
flowing in my veins and reach out as they tear my flesh apart.

They say women are like flowers
delicate and beautiful, cheery and colorful.
Put them in a vase and care for them daily
And they will make everything look better
with their aura. You'll fall in love.
Believe me.

But
She was not a flower from the gardens
She was more like a wildflower growing between
the cracks of a rock. Almost like rebelling against
the nature's rule.
She was alluring in her own ways yet no one
would ever dare to pluck her.

No one could ever love a wildflower in front of a rose
But
No rose could ever be free like a young fiery soul.

Even the stars were burning with envy that night
as I tasted the heaven off your lips.
The fragments traveled down my throat
like wine; bitter yet sweet.
feeding the butterflies that were long dead.
The stars witnessed as we sealed off our bond
by stealing kisses before the sun could rise up again.

The cold breeze pinched my skin,
as the moon appeared from between the clouds.
I was strapped down on a stone table
And the wolves had already started to howl.

From the shadows they came as a pack;
Hidden faces and black robes.
Holding the silver dagger of the snake,
they encircled around the table of stone.

Declaring the yellow moon as their witness,
in the bowl of terror, they lit the fire.
Then took a drop of my blood and chanted
"This is for the mare of the dark night"

God created you in the darkest of the times
along the suns and the stars,
He created you as a guiding light.
So when I asked God to prove His love to me
He made me see your face
which no one else could see.

Those days when I can't write,
I sit around and dive into the ocean
of thoughts that are held back
somewhere in my mind.

Those days when I can't write,
I sit around with a pen in my hand
and scribble random words down
hoping for them to make any sense.

Those days when I can't write,
I sit around and feel depressed
as I try to find a break through
from all the boredom and dullness.

Those days when I can't write
I sit around and type this poem
that was supposed to be another waste
instead of something that actually rhymes.