Shayad mai vo nahi jiski talash har kisi ko hoti hai,
Jisk paas har khushi hoti hai ,
Ek apni hi jindagi hoti hai,
Vo chalte hai jab jameen par,
To duniya unk kadmon pe hoti hai,
aur tu chahta hai man hi man kisi aise ko,
Par tujhe pane ki chahat mere man me har ghadi hoti hai,
Shayad mai vo nahi jiski talash har kisi ko hoti hai....
jo rahte hai mahlon me,
aur jinki duniya sitaron se saji hoti hai,
vo khud hote nahi bheed ka hissa,
balki unk liye kahin ek bheed lagi hoti hai,
vo jindagi ko dekhte nahi,
jindagi unk intjaar me khadi hoti hai,
aur tu hai k unk liye sapne sajati hai,
par tujhe pane ki chahat me meri jindagi thokar khakar gir chuki hoti hai,
shayad mai vo nahi jiski talash har kisi ko hoti hai......
bekar hi unka koi andaaj ku na **,
kitna hi kathor unka dil ku na **,
vo tujhe chahe na chahe kya fark padta hai,
chahe kitne b magroor vo kyu na **,
mere paak saaf dil me base pyar se tujhe kya matlab,
meri jine ki wajah hi tu ku na ** to kya matlab,
tere muh modne se meri saanse hi ku na ruk jaye, tujhe to hasrat hai sirf unki,
duniya deewani hoti hai jiski,
aur tujhe kisi aur ka hote hue dekhkar ye aankhen bujh chuki hoti hai,
kuk shayad mai vo nahi jiski talaash har kisi ko hoti hai,
par tum ** vahi jiski chahat meri jindagi hoti hai,
shayad mai vo nahi jiski talaash har kisi ko hoti hai....

29 August ko hui thi pehli mulakaat,
Taraste they sunne ko wo unki aahat.

5 september ko hui unki dosti,
Ek ladki jo shaadi se bhut darti.

Intezaar mein baithe rehte they wo,
Baar baar niharte shayad koi paigaam aaya **.

Hokar mayoos fir laut jaate,
Maheeno baad messages ke reply aate.

Bhut intezaar kara hai mahadev ne,
Milne ko apni shivani se.

Izhaar tou bhut baar kiya tha unhone,
Har baar mazak mein taal diya pagli ne.

Wo bhi bhut pyaar karti thi,
Par haa mein jawab dene se darti.

9 maheene tak intezaar karaya,
Fir ek din bn gyi unka humsaaya.

Tham liya ek duje ka haath,
Dene ke liye janam janam ka saath.

31 may zindagi ka sabse khaas din,
Ek pal bhi guzar nahi sakte bin.

Chand ko pyaari hai chandni jaise,
Dil se dil jude hain aise.

Chahe meelon dur hain wo,
Mehsoos kar skte hain ehsaaso ko.

Ek aisi pavitra paak rooh hai unki,
Khuda smjh ibadat kr sakti.

Jen, you worry too much about things beyond our control, but you need to know that we are going to be okay.
Your mind is as breathtaking as views from Table Mountain and your love is as beautiful as the Sistine Chapel.
Let’s vibe out and listen to Malibu by Anderson .Paak while reminiscing about the love that we’ll never get back.
I took six shots of Jägermeister, and apparently, I drank more but that’s the only part that I can remember.
It’s a new year and I’m sitting here listening to music while drinking Heineken and reminiscing about December.
I have been sharpening the edges of my pen to write about blunt memories.
Let’s vibe out and listen to Malibu by Anderson .Paak while reminiscing about the love that we’ll never get back.
We’ll never get back together but I can’t keep on losing you over complications that I’m unfamiliar with.
We must’ve met in the past life because that’s probably why I want to love you past life.

Jen, you worry way too much about the future that you tend to forget to live in the moment.
So every minute that passes by is a moment that you want to capture and post on Instagram and Facebook.
But I can’t judge you because sometimes I get lost in the whirlwind of vivid pixels and instant gratification.
I have come to accept that love is a part of me even when it’s apart from me.
Jen, you worry too much about things beyond our control, but you need to know that we’re going to be okay.

Ya Khuda.  Yeh Kaisee Hai Yeh Mauziza.
Barsaat kai woh Paak Khatrai
Yeh Pyaasi Zaameen Par Girtai.
Khuch Talau Mai
Khuch Dariya Mai
Khuch Nadi Mai
Aur Khuch Gutter Mai.
Paani Ki Paakeezaa Mai
Yeah Kaisai Tabdelee Aaati Hai.  
Khuch Paak Rehtai Hai
Aur Khuch Na Paak Hau Jaati Hai.

Meri zindgi ka hissa nhi hai mera pyaar..

Whi hai mere jeevan ka adhaar.....
Jo dia mene tumhe.... Tum jtaate ** uska abhaar....
‎are meri jaan... Smjho na... Ye pyaar hai nahi hai koi vyapaar.....
‎tu hai jese.... Baadlo me behtaa chand....
‎bchpan me wo sath chalta suraj....
‎baarish ki wo pehli boond....
‎sukun itna ke teri awaaj sun.. lu me apni aankhe mund....
‎maanti hu hum alag hai or thodhe se alag hai vichaar....
‎par jo do oppsite ko ek krde.... Whi to hota hai na pyaar....
‎or pyaar hi hai mere jeevan ka adhaar....
‎kuch tum smjh jana kuch me smjh jaungi....
‎2 kadam tum bdhana me 10 kadam aage aa jaungi....
‎bina kisi mol bhaav ke tumse pyaar jtaungi....
‎par thodha sa tum mujhe smjhna....
‎meri ajaad soch ko bandhno se mat jkdhna....
‎yu jra jra c baat pe... Dunia ke bnaaye jhuthe riwaaj se.... yu logo ki kahi baato se....
‎tum is paak pyaar ko mere mat prkhna....
‎jab hogi chandni raat me tumhaari chandni me bhigungi....
‎par amaavas ki us raat me banke aaungi tumhaare dil ka kraar...
‎suno...
‎meri zindgi ka hissaa nahi hai pyaar....
‎ye to hai mere jeevan ka adhaar
Mandeep

Oh, amazing language
I thank thee
for my ability to be the thesaurus
my understanding of my native tongue
the masterful way in which we all express ourselves
through the bastardization of 100 cultures
stealing the noises we enjoy and casting the remnants
to the void
set up shop next to Sanskrit or Latin
death to Elizabethan *******
only Ebonics and Mid-Alabama mush mouth
sprinkled with a little Boston soft “R”
paak da caaa in da yaaaad
like a mad ****
disjointed Caucasians
desperate to steal the next black vernacular
nothing beats a middle-class suburbanite
expressing their feelings about broke *** hoes

Thank you, thank you from the depth of my heart,
Thank you my lovely family from  
Mombasa,Nairobi and Daressalaam,
Thank you for adding colour to my miserable grey year.
Thank you for welcoming me to your home,
For being there for me when I needed you most.
Thank you for taking me on the trip,
For walking beside me,
For holding my hands when I needed support,
It's the little things that you do that mean so much to me.
Thank you for putting up with me,
Thank you for sharing your food with me,
The delicious acharis, yummy jugu paak, mouth watering gorpapdi, exquisite puris, sakarperas and variety of biscuits,
Not to forget everybody 's favourite "popcorn",
And showering me with lovely gifts,
Thank you too, for celebrating my birthday with that awesome black forest cake.
Most of all thank you for listening to me,
And encouraging me in my low moments.
If I ever think of a good family,
You guys are always first on the list,
So many thoughtful things you did for me,
But, one thing is for sure I owe a lot to you.
I also want you to know how much I love and appreciate you.
Thanks is just a small word,
But, for me it has a deep meaning and thousands emotions.
7/1/2020

somewhere between the drink that burns my throat and Anderson Paak's voice, i find my thoughts drifting to the same place they always do

it's a pandemic panic
i'm just hanging out & listening to
Anderson . Paak
what about you?
i've got the red cabbage & brussels sprouts roasting in the oven
with a little salt and pepper & olive oil
it's going on in my house
dancing  in the kitchen
the heater's on
no one's f*ing with me tonight
what about you?




.....

i would have never guessed it that Flea would be a Sheffield United supporter, then again who would have thought that Ryan Reynolds would become the owner of Wrexham...

and sometimes: even if you're working an event
and not a spectator you're still like:
**** it, i need to get a t-shirt...

i can't remember the last time i owned something
that did have a tag: made in China...
i still have this shirt from Gap that reads
made in Ireland...
    now i own something that reads: made in Honduras...
the quality on this thing tells me...
if washed properly will last about 20+ years...

when was the last time i saw them?
did they just come out with By the Way?
2002...  so they must have played the London Docklands
Arena circa...
they were great then: but today they were
like the Beatles...
               Flea on par with John Frusciante...
you have to give it bass players that are on par
with guitarists if not somehow surpassing them...

back then at the Docklands... what was it?
12,500 seated and 15,000 in concert mode...
today? my guess is in the range of 70,000+
      they might be getting but that's when people
are at their best... esp. ageing rock stars...
               it's this last push at greatness...
                             i sure as **** wanted to hear
Dani California live...
                  and it wouldn't be me if i wasn't disappointed
at them not playing Warm Tape...

but other things happened...
                  i'm sometimes almost sure that my interactions
with spectators do not go unnoticed by other
spectators or the security team in general...
now... i'm used to hugs... having selfies taken...
but... i truly wasn't read for a guy to walk up
to make: steal my hand... kiss it... hug me and go
on his merry way...
    as if invited the Chillies to London...
oh sure sure... yeah... i organised this event...

but it's not that:
people have been really starved socially after the past
two years... it shows...
   i'm just wondering when all this luvvy-dubby
attitude of the public will return to the old complacent
drunk-rude attitude...
then the post-pandemic honeymoon period
will end... it's bound to happen at some point
with enough people having attended enough
public events like football matches and concerts...
when the security services will return to being
invisible traffic-cone jokes...
                   unless of course it's just me...
i don't see other stewards or security officers
get their hands kissed and get hugs and get asked
for selfies...

then again... i wonder if i've met someone who
read any of my ****** "poems"...
   i look at the viewing counts...
if i managed to pull over 15,000 examples from my
***.. split between several websites...
where on one just one has gained 48.1K traction...
and i add up some of the more popular ones...
i've reached viewership well over 100K...
so i'm thinking... maybe some of these people approach
me like they know me...
     or know of me...

am i being full of myself?
               i'm just not used to strangers kissing my hands...
or playing with my beard...
how much of this is post-pandemic socialisation-starvation
and how much of it inherently authentic
based on the ontology of individuals is:
perhaps... debatable...
nonetheless: Casanova could have boasted about
his adventures in and outside of the bedroom...
i'm hardly hurting anyone's ego by citing how...
how familiar people can become...
   even though they are strangers...
                        let's not get anyone's hopes up...
we're not talking the complications of friendships...
having drinks in a pub... talking about our highs
and lows... it's not about the shallowness of these
interactions... but the immediacy and the fleetingness
of them: the almost democratic nature of them...
"democratic": there's 8 billion examples of man /
woman on this earth... and London can hardly
compete with a small village, with the Archers'
claustrophobia (the Archers'?
   this radio soap-opera on BBC Radio 4...
               in my most low i used to tune in...
    i'm not old enough to tune into BBC Radio 4,
i don't think i'll ever be...
    i tried BBC Radio 3 for a while...
                   i still prefer being my own DJ) -

well... i tried listening to Anderson Paak coming in...
after seeing him live?
i don't think i'll be able to...
     you need to see him... he's a performer...
he's less a recording artist...
                  his recordings are stale compared to his
entertainment qualities...
    part James Brown part: obviously himself...

or anyone not liking what i write can just switch
to something from the poetryfoundation.org,
or the tabloid press...
                    even i think this is mediocre...
i'm less worried about but i was really worried
whether the train strikes would mean that
the transport-chain-lock would work in my favour...
whether i'd get the central line to Newbury Park
on time from Stratford...
whether i'd catch either the 296 or the 66 bus
to Romford and get one of the last three 103 buses
after 12:00am to Chase Cross...

but i just bought a t-shirt from a concert
and put it over my work clothes and walked with
the rest of the fans grinning-like an idiot:
i've been paid... and i saw a band i last saw
back in 2002... and i'm going to see them again tomorrow...

sure... who wouldn't want to be a mysterious
poet who dies at the age of 30
like Kathleen Tankersley Young from Lysol poisoning...
who wouldn't?! the public would archive
two poems by me and i'd be... immortalised...
Bukowski put a nail on the head when he said:
when you write into the thousands...
you realise... that you have written very little...

right now anything to push me sitting up until
2am and getting up at 9am...
drinking whiskey and soothing my legs
from standing up for... however many hours
i stood rooted...
     but i was smarter today...
        i decided to eat something on the shift...
i highly recommend the steak pasties at the London
Stadium... they're only £6 a pop and that's
not overpriced for a London venue...
i would never ingest that free-cheap-*****
sandwiches provided by companies...
mind you... i did manage to "steal" a free bottle
of Fanta from one of the kiosk managers...
          or if you're at Wembley... befriend a Bangladeshi
security guy... or a Somali...
not stereotyping... they can smooth-talk
any member of a kiosk to give you free food...
or rather... the people working in the food kiosks
are probably also Bangladeshi or Somali...
so...                  

          win win...

and of the people you work with... word quickly spreads...
i come in bruised from a bicycle accident...
obviously i had to tell people that "some ******" cut
me off... that's not true...
i was cycling drunk... the last time i ever did that...
i lost control when the road started becoming uneven:
***-hole this swerve that...
it was a spectacular accident of my own making...
i flipped forward across the handlebars...
even if i was wearing a cycling helmet: which i never
have and never will... a beautiful looking
imitation of a Francis Bacon painting...
but today: some guy approached me...
oh... looks like you're healing nicely...

         and i am... it felt so good listening Scar Tissue
live... i'm gently pinching the scab and eating it...
like a dog...
but i was having this conversation with Harini
and about her falling off her electric scooter...
how she would never get back on it...
and i told her: my bicycle was sort of my fault too...
but it's different with bicycles...
so i started telling her about those two glorious
summers when my grandfather was alive
and he'd take me to Pętkowice (Świętokrzyskie Voivodeship,
Ostrowiec County, Poland)
for horse riding...
            oh yeah... i'll never own a car...
i love buses, bicycles and horses too much...
i will never own a flashy car...
so i told her... this mare almost threw me off at
full gallop...
   see... it's different when you have a bicycle
accident and something rather different
when a horse throws you off...
bicycles are dead things... it's up to you to not
be drunk (idiot) and not spotting a ***-hole
early enough...
            but a horse is a living creature and has
its own rules, whims...

i think i'm rekindling sleeping genes in me...
i must have come from a lineage of horse-riders...
after the first lesson
having jumped me and this guy went into
the fields and the forest for a "stroll"...
my god... riding a horse at full gallop...
it's almost a bit like riding a bicycle down a hill...
no... it's not the same...
       sleeping genes of a Mongol? a ***?
                     Winged Hussars?!
who else where the great nations that heavily relied
on horses?!
    i just remember: put right heel pressure
on the horse's torso while pulling at the reins
of the left hand for it to turn left...
and if you want to move the horse to the right...
left heel digging into the torso
and right hand pulling at the reins...
and if you want to gallop?
    both feet dig heels into the torso
  and the reins are tightened...

                    and she looked at me like:
well... i wasn't expecting you to be a type that rode horses...
so much for rock stars... down on the ground
this is probably enough to impress...

i come home i find my maine **** readied for
a nap in my bed... wake up tomorrow...
root myself in... un-root myself...
drink some whiskey... have two days off...
wait for the boiler mechanic come Monday...
then head off to Wembley for the Ed Sheeran gig...
like any modern man i'm addicted
to the urban landscape...
although... i sometimes wish i could live
on the Shetlands... or the Faroe Isles...
be a lighthouse curator...

                               live in a cave: live in a cave:
breathe like a cave when a shout shouted
into it excavates an echo...
           i'm a terrible DJ... second night running
and it's still...
  
i can move mountains
i can work a miracle, work a miracle
ooh, oh, oh, (i'll) keep you like an oath
may nothing but death do us (a)part

she wants to dance like uma thurman...

Bombay Meri Hei

O city of many peoples dream, o my beloved Bombay

Aamchi Mumbai miss you I do so very much, in many a way.

For enjoyed I did my childhood there, you were my very own Bombay

Along with you, now gone is the love n warmth of my parents, whom I miss every single day.

My school, college n Hosp. friends, shared with whom I have many a cherished day

Your splendid buildings, monuments lure me; of them what can I say !

Also I miss the Paak Atash Behrams n Agiyaris where we went to pray.

Those yummy eating joints; ah! Sooooo many; long is the list, tempt me like shiny golden hay

Every foodiie's stomach n heart in those varied joints lies, this emphatically I do say

My Af, took us out for treats many, and would never allow us to pay

Family picnics we had umpteen; Juhu n Aaksa Beach mention I must,  where games many we did play

Remember I, how every New Year's eve, to those lovely lilting numbers, all night we did sway

O beautiful beloved Bombay, even now my head and heart in you does lie, that's all I can say.

Armin Dutia Motsshaw