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Asominate  Feb 2018
Jo's Disease
Asominate Feb 2018
Despite these masks of happiness,
Jo drown in dark despair,
Jo mind may be a paintbrush,
What Jo create with it, beware!
The pen is mightier than the sword;
It has no limitation

Can't refrain, Jo mind can stain,
Now nothing can erase us now!

Can Jo describe the face Jo saw?
It would be ones you recognize.

Can't harm hands that holds, writes, and draws.
Imagination cursed us all with 'life.'

Jo blinded by Jo disease growing;
Jo heart is full of finite-loathing-
With secrets that Jo keep from showing,
Is disease sheep in wolfish clothing?
Flood Jo mind, with disease flowing-
Push Jo to the brink of blowing.
We hope disease think of going,
Jo weighed down to keep from floating.
Come with us, tell you 'bout Joey:
We keep Jo from being lonely,
Silent screaming, sinking slowly-
Give back Jo soul, what disease owe we.
Somethings, we feel like we aren't the only ones in Jo's mind.
the life of patrick youngspeer


young patrick youngspeer, is a very nice kid, but in one year he lost his dad

and that made him devastated and patrick was so determined to keep his dads

spirit alive, he went on a trip all over outer space, but the problem was his dad

didn’t want this, and held his mouth saying to patrick, don’t do what you used to do, buddy

because i really hate being known as the old digger of the block, i hated being called the

great big old fogie, just to protect my son patrick, but patrick who was so devious and cunning,

like a little kid at as pre school, and patrick’s dad was really worried, he went down to try and find

where his next life will be, but patrick wesn’t sure he wanted his father to move on, oh well, he wanted him

to reincarnate, bur not move on, oh well, maybe move on, but patrick wants to meet his father’s next life

one of these days, but mr youngspeer hated the idea of meeting his first born son patrick more often than the others

but patrick wasn’t getting what he wants, so on the street, patrick youngspeer, yelled to his schizophrenic paranormal voices

****** oathe i am a cool kid, your a yeah mate yeah kid, cool kids do, what i do, yeah, only yeah mate yeah kids do what you do, yeah

and mr youngster said, nobody’s teasing you patrick, so why are you worried, and patrick said, they are trying to take my beliefs away

when i am powerful enough to reincarnate people from death to new life, but mr youngspeer said, no, i need to reform him, because he is

looking at the meat on the kids legs, on the youtube clips, but patrick said, i am not, i am keeping up to date with dead members of my family

i am not taking this further, i know it sounds weird, but just to christians points of view, and patrick, who is a nasty writer, and over half of his

pieces of writing, were rubbishing christians, one online dude on writers cafe, over the internet said, patrick should stop hassling christians

because it is a lovely religion, but despite patrick apologising to this lady, and the fact that patrick not meaning it,she told patrick that he was a

very nice person, and patrick went on to write songs and stories and after his mother went on a holiday to visit her sister josephine, who was a

healthy person, never smoked, never really did drugs, was diagnosed with lung cancer and patrick felt bad for his aunty josephine,he decided

to write a little poem for her

my aunty jo, my aunty jo

i really feel for you aunty jo

you don’t deserve what god brought to you

i really feel for you aunty jo

i might be a tad naughty and led you astray

i might have never given you a chrissy card today

but i care for you, oh my aunty jo

i care for you a lot, my aunty, yeah

i don’t want to see you die, jo, i thought you were too healthy

i know that you could beat this, so i will pray for you, yeah

i will pray for the powers of athena will come down and whisk and whisk and really

really whisk your lung cancer, away

you see i know yiou have grandchildren, who don’t want to see you go, love

you see, though i don’t want her to suffer but i don’t want us too either

please save my aunty jo, from this awful cancer shock

i want you to cure my aunty jo, miss athena, please save her now

she is too nice to die, the world ain’t ready to lose my aunty jo mate, no, athena please cure her now

please save my dear aunty jo

and as patrick was finishing  his poem, his father brought to planets together to make sure aunty jo will be alright, by releasing athena’s magic

and he did this with patrick youngspeers help, you see what a fabulous team we have trying to keep the family alive, but the only way mr youngspeer

will help his son like this, is to be dead but now his dad is dead, patrick is helping with his spiritual healing, and patrick said, drink plenty of coke, (party juice)

to save the workl, yet again, eventually mr youngspeer said, i don’t care if you don’t work, help people with me, because nobody really cared for you, nobody cares

unless you converted to christinailty, patrick said, don’t **** me into your christian ways, you fucken christians, i am your cosmic friend, but this christian said

i want to go up to outer space to help my father, patrick said, we are not ready to see the back of you yet aunty jo, and mr youngspeer said, no patrick, we ain’t

ready to see you go, no way, you see my pal, patrick youngspeer is based on my life
Asominate Feb 2018
Hey,
Are you there?
Hey,
Can't forgive the past?

All Jo wanted were friends,
Taught that they could relieve Jo's pains
Every twitch is Jo's fight, against the broken parts in 'm

We sees through Jo's eyes, thoughts twisted with lies,
This mortal prison, his disease's disguise.
A finite of loathing, wolf in sheepish clothing,
We are so sorry, was it us who caused this ?

Jo's can't escape Jo's place, glass room, separation haze,
We don't think that we can control Jo's process and craze
Was locked in and keeped, rest not come in sleep,
We can care Jo here, because that what we're meant to be

All Jo wanted were friends,
Taught that they could relieve Jo's pains
Jo's mind isn't Jo's own, In Jo's mind, Jo is not alone.

We grieve, alone, we're all locked in here, you know?
The Joenymous's life isn't good to be so anonymous,
Ain Sep 2020
Bhale se door hain hum tum Bhale se chu nahi sakte. ...
Bhale se saath saath hum is safar mein chal nahi sakte....

Bhale se hum Kadam tu aur maiñ ab  ** nahi sakte......
To kya jo haath mere tere baalon mein nahi tikte. ....

To kya jo honth ki garmi mere honthon pe nahi hai. ...
Bhale se **** tera mujh se kuch lipta sa nahi hai. .....

Mere is dil mein jo ehsaas hai Woh kam to nahi hai. ...
Teri jo rooh chhuti hai mujhe woh kam to nahi hai. ...

Tune hai jo diya woh pyar mujhe kam to nahi hai. ....
Tera na hoke bhi mujh par Jo haq hai kam to nahi hai. ...

Labon pe hai mere muskaan aankhein nam to nahi hai. ...
Meri nida pe tu aayega yaqeen kam to nahi hai. ....

Tere khayaal ki garmi ko main mehsoos karti ***. ...
Tasawwur mein sahi tujh se mulaqaat roz karti ***. ....

Tere wujood se mera yeh jo wujood juda hai....
Marasim kuch tera aisa meri dhadkan se juda hai......

Bhale se tu tadapta hai udhar main bhi tadapti ***....
Tadap mein hain jo yaksaan hum yeh bhi to kam to nahi hai. ....

Tumhara zikr hote hi labon pe yeh jo aati hai. ..
Khushi ki lehr mein woh muskurahat kam to nahi hai. ....

Woh raaton ki woh baaton ke natije kam to nahi hai. ....
Mohabbat ki humari daastaanein kam to nahi hai. ....

Mujhe pukarti hai tere aahon ki woh khamoshi.....
Mujhe sanwaarti hai tere aankhon ki woh madhoshi......

Tamannaon ke dariya pe yeh kashti chal to rahi hai. ...
Ke jab tak saans hai "Ain" teri tujh par mar to rahi hai. ....

Suno zara ke maiñ jo keh rahi *** aaj yeh tum se.....
Maiñ ab tak *** hayat is dehr mein yeh kam to nahi hai. ....

Yeh sab jo zikr hai maine kiya yeh kam to nahi hai. ....
Mana ke paas tu Mere nahi par gham to nahi hai. ...
ungdomspoet Jan 2016
kom med mig
bare bliv i nat
du siger alle de ord jeg engang ville høre, men det føltes ikke rigtigt
hvad forventer du at jeg skal sige
du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
du tager min hånd
og siger du har ændret dig
men søde, dine undskyldninger narrer mig ikke
fordi for dig er det hele bare et spil
så bare forfør mig nu
for tiden har gjort mig stærk
jeg er begyndt at komme videre
jeg siger det her nu
du har haft din chance
og du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
en lille smule for forket
og jeg kan ikke vente
men du ved lige hvad du skal sige
du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
du siger at du drømmer om mit ansigt
men det er ikke mig du savner
du kan bare godt lide det du ser nu
men for at være ærlig
er det helt ligemeget nu
for du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent

jeg var ung og forelsket
jeg gav dig alt hvad jeg havde
men det var aldrig nok
og nu vil du pludselig have kontakt
du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
gå hjem til din kæreste
jeg slipper dig fri
jeg elsker mig selv
du har et problem
men kom nu ikke og spørg mig om hjælp
for du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
en lille smule for forket
og jeg kan ikke vente
men du ved lige hvad du skal sige
du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
du siger at du drømmer om mit ansigt
men det er ikke mig du savner
du kan bare godt lide det du ser nu
men for at være ærlig
er det helt ligemeget nu
for du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent

jeg kan elske med hele mit hjerte
jeg ved jeg har så meget at give, jeg havde så meget at give
men med en player som dig
der har jeg mistet troen
det er ikke den måde jeg skal leve mit liv
det er bare lidt for sent
det er bare lidt for sent
en lille smule for forket
og jeg kan ikke vente
men du ved lige hvad du skal sige
du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
du siger at du drømmer om mit ansigt
men det er ikke mig du savner
du kan bare godt lide det du ser nu
men for at være ærlig
er det helt ligemeget nu
for du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
du ved jo godt at det er lidt for sent
There it was on the calendar, Saturday May 11,2013. Big red circle around the date and written in black pen in the middle…SPELLING BEE. Plain as day, you couldn’t miss it. One of the biggest days of the school year for geeks and nerds alike.





Today was the day. In two hours, The 87th Annual Cross Cultural Twin Counties Co-Educational Public School Spelling Bee, would begin.  This was a huge event in the history of Thomas Polk Elementary School. It would be one of the biggest, if not THE BIGGEST in the history of The Twin Counties.



There would be twenty-one schools represented with their best and brightest spellers. The gymnasium would be full of parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and media representatives. Yes, invitations had been sent out to both of the local papers in The Twin Counties, and both had replied in the affirmative. Real media, in Thomas Polk Elementary School, with a shared photographer….the big time had come to town.



Inside the gymnasium, work had been going on all night in preparation of the big event. The Teachers Auxiliary Group had set up bunting across the stage, purple and white of course, for the school colours. The school colours were actually purple and cream, but, there was a wedding at Our Lady of The Weeping Sisters Baptist Church later, and they had emptied the sav-mart of all of the cream coloured bunting and crepe paper. So, white it would be.



It looked spectacular. There were balloons tied to the basketball net at the south end of the gym. It wouldn’t wind up after the last game, so something had to be done to hide it. Balloons fit the bill. There was three levels of benches on the stage for the competitors, a microphone dead center stage and two 120 watt white spot lights aimed at the microphone.  Down in front, was a judges table, also covered in bunting and crepe, with a smaller microphone sitting in the middle. There was a cord connecting it to the stage speaker system, taped to the gym floor with purple duct tape, just to fit in. Big time, big time.



The piece de resistance sat at the right side of the judges table. An eight foot high pole, with an electronic stop watch and two traffic lights, donated from the local public utilities commission, in red and green. The timer had been rigged up by the uncle of one of the competitors, possibly to gain an advantage, to help keep the judges honest in their timings. Besides, it looked fancy, and it had a cool looking remote control.











The gym was filled to capacity. One hundred and Seventy Five Entrants, visitors, judges and media were crammed into plastic chairs, benches, and whatever lawn chairs the Teachers Auxiliary were able to borrow, that weren’t being used for the wedding at the Baptist Church. It was time to begin….



The three judges came in from the left of the clock, and sat down. The entrants were all nervously waiting on stage on the benches. The media representatives were down front, for photo opportunities, of course.



Judge number one, in the middle of the table clicked on the microphone in front of him and turned to the crowd. In doing so, he spilled his water on his notes and pulled the duct tape loose on the floor in front.



“Greetings, and welcome to the 87th Annual Cross Cultural Twin Counties Co-Educational Public School Spelling Bee.” There was some mild clapping from the family members, along with a few muffled whistles and two duck calls from the back. The weak response was due to the fact that most of the parents either had small fans (due to the heat), donated from the local Funeral Home, or hot dogs and beer (from the tailgating outside), in their hands. Needless to say, it was still a positive response.



The judge carried on…”Today’s competition brings together the top spellers in the region of the Twin Counties to do battle on our stage. All of the words used today, have been selected from a number of sources, including Webster’s Dictionary, from our own school library, Words with Friends from the inter web, keeping up with modern culture, and finally from two books of Dr. Suess that we had lying around the office. Each competitor will get one minute to answer once his or her word has been selected. We ask that you please refrain from applause until after the judges have confirmed the spelling, and please no help to the competitors. We now ask that you all turn off any electronic media, cell phones, pagers, etc. so we can begin”.



He then turned to the stage and asked all competitors to remove their cell phones and put them in the bright orange laundry basket, usually reserved for floor hockey sticks. Each student deposited their phones, all one hundred and thirty-seven of them in the basket.  We were ready to start.





“Competitor number one…please approach the microphone and state your name and your school” said Judge number two. Judge number two would be in charge of calling the students up, it seemed. She was the librarian at Thomas Polk. She had typical librarian glasses, with the silver chain attached to the arms, flaming red hair, done up in a bee hive uplift, just for the event, and was called Miss Flume. She was married, but, being the south, she was always addressed as Miss.



The first student advanced to the front of the stage. She had bright pink hair, held in place with a gold hairband, black shoes, and a yellow jumper. She looked like a walking number 2 pencil. The two duck calls came from the back of the gymnasium along with scattered applause. All three judges turned and looked to the back, and then turned to face the young girl.



“My name is Bobbie Jo Collister, I am a senior at Jackson Williams School of Fine Arts and Music”. “Thank you Bobbie Joe” said Miss Flume. Bobbie Jo, smiled nervously and put on her glasses. “Your word is horticulture” announced Judge number one, “horticulture”.  Bobbie Jo took a breath and without asking for a definition, usage, root of the word or anything, just ripped through it without fail in three point two seconds, according to the mammoth timepiece at the end of the table. After conferring, the judges clicked on the green street light and she sat down, amidst more duck calls and clapping.



Student number two went through the entire process as did students three through eight. Each one had glasses, no surprise there, and were all dressed in monochromatic themes. Together, they looked like a life sized box of crayolas ready for a halloween party. Each child spelled their words correctly and were subsequently cheered and applauded.



Student nine then approached the microphone, stopping about a good seven feet short and three feet right of it. “My name is Oliver Parnocky” squeaked the lad. “I go to George W. Bush P.S 19 and am a senior.” Miss Flume, grabbed the small mike in front of her and said “Oliver…put on your glasses and move over to the microphone.” She leaned into the other judges, and said “He goes to my school, he doesn’t like wearing them much, and he’s always outside at recess talking to the flagpole after everyone else has come inside”.



“Oliver, please spell Dichotomy” said Judge number one. Judge two started the clock and they waited….and waited…then out burst this voice….DICHOTOMY…D I C H O T O M E E, , no, wait..D I C K O….****!” The crowd erupted in laughter, Oliver was busted. The judges conferred, and after informing poor Oliver they had never heard it spelled quite that way with an O **** at the end, they triggered the red light and Oliver left the stage to sit in the audience with his folks.



The next three kids, all with glasses, like it was part of an unwritten uniform dress code for the day, all advanced and sat down. The next entrant, number thirteen, luckily enough stood from the back and struggled down to the front of the stage. There were gasps and some snickering from the crowd. She was taller than the previous competitors,  and a little more pregnant as well. “Please state your name” said Miss Flume. “My name is Betty Jo Willin and am a senior at

Buford T. Pusser Parochial School”. At this announcement there was a cheer of “Got Wood at B.T. Pusser” from the crowd. The judges turned, asked for silence and the offending nuns returned to their seats. “Miss Willin, how old are you exactly?” asked Judge number one. “Twenty Two sir”. “And you say you are a senior?” “Yes sir” came the reply. Betty Jo was shuffling a bit as the pressure on her bladder must have been building standing there in her delicate condition. After conferring, judge number one said “That sounds about right, your word is PROPHYLACTIC”. The few people in the crowd that knew the meaning of the word laughed, while the rest continued eating their hot dogs and drinking their sodas and beers. “Please give a definition sir..I don’t believe I know that word”. The judges looked at each other with a definite “I’m not surprised” look and rattled off the definition. When she asked for usage, the judges really didn’t know what to do. Should they give a sentence using the word or explain the usage of a prophylactic, which regardless would have been too late anyway.

After a modicum of control was reached, she attempted the word, getting all tongue tied and naturally messing it up. The red light was triggered and she left the stage.



More strange outfits, bowties, hair nets, jumpers, clip on ties, followed. It looked like a fashion parade from Goodwill and The Salvation Army rolled into one. Most attempted their words and were green lighted onwards to the next round, while those who failed, were red lighted back to the crowd and the tailgate party in the parking lot. As each competitor was eliminated, the betting board that was being manned outside by one father was updated with new odds and payouts.



The first round was approaching an end with only three kids left. “Number nineteen please approach and state your name” said Miss Flume. He plume of red hair was starting to sag and was sliding slowly off of her head due to the humidity in the gymnasium.



Number nineteen came forth, glasses, tape across the bridge like half of the previous spellers. He was wearing the most colourful shirt that any of the judges had ever seen. It was not from Dickies, they surmised. “I go to J.J. Washington P.S 117 and my name is Mujibar Julinoor Parkhurloonakiir”. The judges froze. He obviously was new to the district. They had never heard a name like that before, ever. Not even in Ghandi. This was a powerful name. There had been sixteen cominations of Bobby, Bobbie, Billie, Jo, Joe, Jimmy, Jeff, Johnson and Jackson prior to Mujibar. Stunned, judge one asked “Son, can you spell that please?”

Mujibar, not sure what to do, spelled his name, unsure of why he was being asked to do so. “Thank you son” said Miss Flume. The odds on the betting board in the parking lot changed right then.



“That boy is gonna win fer sure” said Jimmy Jeff Willerkers. Jimmy Jeff ran the filling station two concessions over and had fifty bucks on his nephew Bobby Jeff, who had already flamed out on “yawl”. “How was he supposed to know  it had something to do with boats?” asked Jimmy Jeff. “That Mujibar is gonna win…jeez, he’s been spelling that name for years….anything else is gonna be easy breezy.” The odds went down on Mujibar and the money was flying around that parking lot faster than the rumour that the revenue people were out looking for stills in the woods.



“Mujibar…please spell SALICIOUS”…asked the now red pancake headed Miss Flume. Doing as he was told, Mujibar, spelled the word, gave the root, a definition and a brief history of the word usage in modern literature. Judge number one was furiously scribbling down notes, and trying to figure out how he would get a bet down on this kid before round two started.



Entrant number twenty from Jefferson Davis Temple and Hebrew school advanced which brought up the final entrant from round one. “Number Twenty-One please advance to the front of the stage”. After adjusting his glasses, after all he didn’t want a repeat of what poor Oliver did, he approached. “My name is C.J. Kay from William Clinton P.S 68” Judge one, confused by the young man’s name asked him to repeat it. “C.J. Kay” said C.J. “What is your full last name boy, you can’t just have a letter as your last name….what is the K for?” “Sir, my last name is Kay”, said C.J. “It’s not a letter”. “It most certainly is son…H I J K L…rattled off judge one. “It has to stand for something, you just can’t be CJK, that sounds like a Canadian radio station or worse yet, one of them hippy hoppy d.j fellers my granddaughter listens to. What is the K for?”. C.J said sir “My name is Christopher John Kay… not K, Kay” and then spelled it out. This only confused judge one more than he already was, and the extra time figuring out his name was doing nothing to Miss Flume’s hairdo.



“Christopher John….please spell MEPHISTOPHOLES “ said Judge one, after realizing he was never going to find out what the K was for. The crowd was getting restless and wanted to get to the truck to get re-filled and change their bets. C.J. knocked it out of the park in 2.7 seconds…”faster than Lee Harvey Oswald at a target shoot in Dallas”, one man said.



After a ten minute break, to get drinks, ***, re-tape some glasses and prop up Miss Flumes ruined plumage round two was set to begin. This went faster as the words were getting tougher, although randomly selected, judge one was inserting a few new words to keep his chance of winning with Mujibar alive. PALIMONY, ARCHEOLOGY, PARSIMONIOUS, TRIPTOTHYLAMINE , and many other words were thrown at the competitors. Each time the list of successful spellers was reduced, and the amount of clapping and the duck calls were less.

The seventh round began with just Mujibar, B.J. Collister and C. J Kay left. Before the round began the judges reminded the crowd that the words were random, and to please keep the cheering until the green light had been lit. There were more duck calls at this announcement and very little applause. Jerry Jeff was still manning the betting board, the tailgate barbeque was done, and there was only about thirty people left in the gymnasium.



The balloons on the basketball net had long since lost their get up and go, and were now hanging limply like coloured rubber scrotums and were flatter that Miss Flumes hair, which incidently, was now starting to streak the right side of her face from sweat washing out the dye. She was beginning to look like an extra in a zombie film with a brilliant orange red streak across her forehead.



“C.J.” said judge one, “please spell ARYTHMOMYACIN”. C.J. gave it a valiant effort ,but unfortunately was incorrect and the red light sent him off to the showers. This left B.J. Collister and the odds on favourite, Mujibar. The crowd was down to twenty seven now, Bobbie Jo’s folks and Mujibars immediate family.



Round after round were completed with neither one missing a word. Neither one blinked. It was a gunfight where both shooters died. These two were good, and it was never going to end. Judge one leaned over and told the other judges, “we have to finish this soon….I’m due at the wedding over to the Baptist church for nine o’clock to bless the happily marrieds and drive them both to the airport. They’re off to Cuba for their honeymoon.” The others agreed…”C.J. please spell MINISCULE said Miss Flume”. She did so, without a problem. This caused judge one to yell out “Holy Christmas” just as Mujibar got to the microphone. Thinking this was his word, he started as the judges were giving him his word. Seizing the opportunity to end it…judge one woke up judge three who red lighted poor Mujibar, ending his run at spelling immortality. “Sorry son, you tried, but, today a Mujibar lost and a B.J won.”. Before he tried to correct himself, knowing what he had just said didn’t sound quite right, Miss Flume congratulated both finalists and began the award presentations.



Thankfully, next year the eighty eighth version of The Annual Cross Cultural Twin Counties Co-Educational Public School Spelling Bee will be in the other county. Now the job of sorting out the cell phones in the orange basket begins. By the way, Betty Jo Willin had a boy …you can just guess what she named it!
not a poem, as you can see...it's a rough draft of a short story. I would love feedback on the content, not the spelling or grammar as it is in a rough stage still and needs editing.
Ain  Sep 2020
Saraab....(Mirage)
Ain Sep 2020
Saraab....

Tu ek khayaal se zyada kuch aur tha bhi nahi...
Bas ek khwaab se zyada tu kuch hua bhi nahi...
Woh ek zakhm jo dil ko kabhi mila hi nahi...
Tu hai woh dard jo mehsus ** saka hi nahi...

Woh lafz the mehez alfaaz sach hue hi nahi....
Na haq vo baaton ke parde kabhi khule hi nahi...
Humare ijz ka un par asar hua hi nahi...
Ki inkisari mein hum ne bhi kuch kaha hi nahi....

Teri ranjish kabhi dil ko hui ata hi nahi...
Mera daaman teri khalish se bhar saka hi nahi...
Woh faasla kabhi jo paar kar sake hi nahi...
Woh raasta ke jin pe paon chal sake hi nahi...

Tu ek yaad hai jise yaad rakh sake hi nahi...
Tu ek saraab hai jise haath dhar sake hi nahi...
Aazmana kisi ko kab yeh achchi aadat hai...
Aazmaish se hum kabhi juda hue hi nahi...

Ke intekhaab jo tera maine kiya tha kabhi...
Munasebat ke daayre se vo juda hi nahi...
Woh ek sada jo kabhi pesh kar saka hi nahi...
Vo ilteja kabhi bhi tu jo sun saka hi nahi...

Meri aankhon ko deed tera ** saka hi nahi...
Teri khushboo se **** mera tar hua hi nahi...
Woh jo qurbat sa kuch mehsus ** raha tha mujhe...
Wasl ka lutf woh mujhe kabhi mila hi nahi...

Kyun jo tu khud parast nahi to dekhta hi nahi...
Kyun nigaah tu meri taraf phira saka hi nahi...
Woh jo sehra tumhe yun sabz nazar aata raha...
Saraab tha kabhi waha yahan hua hi nahi...

Kaha tha us ne ke mujh ko bas ek nida dena...
Ae dil tu maan le tha tu ne yeh suna hi nahi...
Teri nigaah mein umeed ek basi thi jo “Ain”...
Nazar ka dhoka tha ke kuch kabhi basa hi nahi....
Asominate  Feb 2018
Quotidian
Asominate Feb 2018
We wanna Jo to have more friends
Not hidden in shadows to drive Jo wild.

Jo try so hard to make Jo dead
Jo pain, is yours kind of pleasure? Chld?


It's we
We know Jo can hear us

We're broken. There can be way

Believe
We are all in Jo head
Lies Jo tell selves each day

Memory always been rotten?
Bitter old times cannot forgotten
Silent screams, misunderstandings,
Can you bring Jo better ending?

Tears of fear shows Jo despair
Real humans are never there
Happiness can't last forever
Jo try to fix selves together

Watch out...
...Disease draws closer
As it killing Jo mind...

...Find calm...
...It cannot be over?...
...Lies of truth lie behind...
JISKI DHUN PAR DUNIA NAACHE ,DIL AISA EK TARA HAI
JO HUMKO BHI PYARA HAI AYR JO TUMKO BHI PYARA HAI
JHUM RAHI HAI SAARI DUNIA JABKI HUMARO GEETO PAR
TAB KAHTI ** PYAR HUA HAI  KYA EHSHAN TUMHARA HAI

JO  DHARTI SE MABAR JODE USKA NAAM MUHABBAT HAI
JO SEESHE SE PATTHAR TODE USKA NAAM MUHABBAT HAI
KTARA*2 SAGAR TAK ** JATI HAI HAR UMR MAGAR
BAHATA DARAIA WAPAS MODE USKA NAAM MUHABBAT HAI

PANAHO ME JO AAYA ** TO USPE WAR KYA KARNA ?
JO DIL HARA HUA ** USPE FIR ADHIKAR KYA KARNA ?
MUHABBAT KA MAZA TO DUBANE  KI KASHMKASH ME HAI
JAB ** MALUM GAHRAI TO DARIA PAAR KYA KARNA

BASTI BASTI GHOR UDASI  PARVAT PARVAT KHALIPAN
MAN HIRA BEMOL BIK GAYA GHIS GHIS REETA TAN CHANDAN
IS DHARTI SE US AMBAR TAK DO HI CHEEJ GAJAB KI HAI
EK TO TERA BHOLAPAN HAI EK MERA DEEWANAPAN

TUMHARE PAAS HU LEKIN JO DURI HAI SAMAJHTA HU
TUMHARE BIN MERI HASTI ADHURI MAI  SAMAJHTA HU
BAHUT BIKHARA BAHUT TUTA THAPEDE SAH NAHI PAYA
HAWAO KE ISHARO PAR MAGAR MAI BAH NAHI PAYA
ADHURA ANSUNA HI RAH GAYA YU PYAR KA KISSA
KABHITUM SUN NAHI PAYI KABHI MAI KAH NAHI PAYA...

WRITTEN BY  : SHASHANK KUMAR DWIVEDI
                                          1993shashank@gmail.com (FACEBOOK)
Kripi  Jun 2013
Tu Jo Kahe
Kripi Jun 2013
Jaanaa bas ek ishara to kar,
Tere kadmon mein la du sehar
Meri ab qaid khwahish na kar,
aake mere baazuon mein bikhar
Teri baahon ke saaye mein aake pighalna chahungi

Tu jo kahey hasna chahungi,
Tere sang chalna chahungi
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin............Main khud ko badalna chahungi


Feeki feeki si zindagi,
Tu ghol de aa chashni
Tod de sab bandishein,
Aa thaam le le chal kahin

Tanhaai ne hi hasaaya hai, tanhaai ne hi rulaaya hai
Tujhe dekh kar ke yun laga, tune mujhko khud se milaaya hai
Ladkhadati rahi, kabse thi main magar,
Tujhko paake zara ..sambhalna chahungi
Tu jo kahey hasna chahungi, tere sang chalna chahungi
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin......
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin......
Main khud ko badalna chahungi

Tu ashq hai khushiyon bhara
Koi mast ehsas hai
Tujhe kya kahun mere waaste.. tu hawa nahi saans hai
Saara jahaan main maan lu, gar tu mere saath hai
Tere saath bhi jo likhe ** ghum, to dard sab raas hai
Tere saaye mein **.. ab meri har subha
Shaam banke tere saath dhalna chahungi

*Tu jo kahey hasna chahungi, tere sang chalna chahungi
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin......
** nuks mujhmein gar kahin......Main khud ko badalna chahungi......
It's a Hindi song
Awesome Lyrics
Dedicated To My Love
I will show it's translation in Atul's next poem

(Atul.... Please Help Me In Translating.....:-P)
Aabid Rumi Feb 2017
Koi ghilla na ab aur na koi shikayaat hogee
Ab jo mohobat tujsay hoge,wo bakamaal hoge...
Dekh liya hai jo  mizaaj hummnay teraa
Koi khata na ab aur na koi kammee hogeee

Humpay jo karam huva tha,aaj  samj aanay laga
Pehle  shayed tanha thay,aaj har taraf shor behnay laga
Huvi jo gustakhi ,andher khudkay jank naa sakhay
samma unki mohobat ka , Na janay khudpay kabsay chalnay laga....

shambal  raha tha jo dheery dheery,lo aaj bikharnay do zara
Kuch apni tasveer mai,rang merey b bharnay do zara
Koi inaam ** teray kabil ,rakhdu wo terey kadmou mai
Laikin tujsa naa kio aur na  tere jaisi koi hogee....
Ab jo Inayat tujpay hoge,wo lazawaal hogee..

khaaboon mai kho kr hum haqeeqat ko jaan naa sakhay
Sab tha pani he pani par hum kuch pebchaan naa sakhay
Zindagi ki mojoo pay sawaar hum bataktey rehai veeran-e-samandar mai
Muntazir mai sahil unka tha ,par hum kuch dekh naa sakhay..

Ilteja jo kabhi kee hee nhi,aaj jee bhar k faryaad karnay do zara
Dabay zakhmu ko andher he andher aaj samandar karnay do zara
Hai qabool ab sab tera,zindagi mai bas shamil hoga  
Rahai naa sansay mujmai sahee,Laikin  judaa naa Rumi say tu hogee

Ab jo ebadaat tujpay hogee,wo bemisaal hogee..

########penned by Aabid Rumi
AGAR KOI KAMI HOGI TOH BATA DENA MUJAY
MAI KHUD KO SAWAAR LOOGA BAS AAP K LIYE

— The End —