The Exorcism

FeaturedThe Exorcism

to ZA

Horrendous compulsions, dreary as void, consummate.
Illuminating paths, all ignis fatuus, I mark and execrate.
Guilty pleasures, filthy measures, make me whole
(Conceal me not but stir and expose me bold)!
Journeyed forth to the Patience Stone and back,
And yet no delight did I find… Alack:
Found but this Alabaster, drenched black in sins.
Change me please, I plead; wanton demons challenge many a rinse.
But mute is this Rock; You are no miracle, I chant!
Empty of veneration, left I at my own command.

Howling darkness draws. Night ransacks and finds you –
O blessed Angels, you are no match for this ardor; adieu!
Submit I into vehemence – jumping off 
Ṭūr off lust.
Adrenaline fancies this ride – though my bones would crunch to dust.
Yet they stay (I want them this way); from eerie mornings till dusk…
Consequent the dire war… all Angels ground into the crust.
O Fidus Achates, you veto my petition once more!
I’d squander as a wanderer – You’d yourself behold.

Might revives (as senses deprived), yet this grave a state –
Look, oh look, the Mirror rebukes, my image to whom is stale –
Dodged for days I darkness though; that usual malady,
‘Tis only a timely halt, we know – return will tragedy.
Come will the din, once again, to the doors of decency…
Speak of the devil: chains just rattled; Set are the monsters free!
That Angels’ brawl, that dire war, witnessed yet again;
Relapsed into that old anguish, subsequent to devil’s revenge.
That dance of demons stirring within… Repent now, just repent!

This light in eyes, huh (ugly disguise)! Perpetually I display;
Leaping cougars, chasing floggers… Will this complete my stay?
Rummages do I for peace here (a luxury I hold not).
Thus haphazardly have I come, to this alchemist’s lot.
Wincing – tipsy – land there; beg I but for this:
Amulet for my vice or some elixir to enlighten my abyss?
Trapped am I, escape cannot, from this surreal den,
Whirl I, spin deranged, still, can wake not from this sweven.
Alas, His cauldron too blows off; my panacea has spurted!
Again the vines of vile take shot, entangle me up till ruptured.

Growling breaths, reeking wreaths, begild this stoic clay.
The cavalier devil is delirious – chortles He away.
Mephistophelean, all my acts; orchestrated by a wicked urge.
Amidst this relinquishment, frigid remains my Demiurge.
But like from an ember springs a flame, advances for the cold,
Hope revives, whence I find, that others too fight their faults.
I stand, recite, bend, prostrate and hurl meretricious cries;
Kneel before Him limpid, transform me to my state erstwhile!
Came then a poke, and found me Sin! instead of Epiphany,
Took an encore, fed on my core (for this was I really yearning).

Deceiving words, spreading lies, filing talks unheard.
Chilling squirms, rousing eyes and reading things absurd.
Mask of morality, retaliate! from slipping into dirt
(‘Tis Challenge of a metallic jument to hoof away unheard).
Am I despicable? I must be not! For don’t I struggle and fight?
Like how I surged away again, hurting the evil’s pride.
Head for the hills and vanish? No, walk towards the Light
Embrace those spells that weave our prayers, recite that Creed tonight.
And find it breathe into you, an elixir like none other,
Extirpating the root of sins all, and all the vulgar blunders.

Faltering recital: wiping detritus (this might facilitate!).
This Book’s entitled to cast off hexes; vileness might just eject.
What rhythmic prose, intonation divine; such sanctifying debate!
This charm too alas, lasts; abrades. Evil did only procrastinate…
Darkness’s patience now runs out; downs my remnant luck:
Forsaken by friends, away from trends; gift of a misery deluxe.
Whom do I bluff? For I’m to blame, ’twas my hand after all
That mocks me then, mocks me now, the reason for my fall.
Vaporizes whence the soul, despondence fully cloaks,
Faith (in life) diminishes when usurps such shadow.

Hungry wraiths, rowdy reps; adoption of blithe ignorance,
Tides, not turning; passions, still burning (Perdition I might face).
I scrape away my days like this: lost in an ardent craze,
Honorable Scribes shoulder arguments, amidst I suffocate,
As desires – they pry us, all day long – keep altering this maze.
Would Joseph avert, when disrobes Zuleika, in that room sultry –
With sparkling desire unleashed – lest God denies epiphany?
Sick protests; preacher, ring me the line – transmit this for the Deity:
Require some limit in this torture, for the sake of sodality;
After all, I am a sinner – this sentence stamps infidelity.

Lasciviously swerve, these voluptuous curves; seduction at its apex.
Abiding am I in belly-full times; deified for me is sex.
Persist these surging spells – snare I lewdly these houris,
Ravenous urge, I’m playing absurd; my touch, Like Midas’s…
Next came a tryst with – among houris, find when I – a Nephilim
(Beneath, an anguished case, desolate fate; Above, graceful, sanguine).
But like the serpent am that I, threw at her a javelin
(When knew not of her frntic side and her Assassin).
Her chastity turned the tides; removed with ease the javelin;
Handed it back to me then, smiling: “Why not try again?”
Speared not I blows, rather spared, for rose in me a question:
Pierced I through you such weapon, you still ask for repetition?
Soured my mouth, averted my gaze; her reply aroused a cringe:
“Placed ‘side by sufferings, bore that I, your spear was nothing.”

A grand upset, plus deep regret. I wonder ’bout this Nephilim:
What misery hides behind the smile? Why can’t I spot the stain?
Such fairy stance exquisite, haloes rays as if of Eden,
Vapid turns my venom, while, fail queries profane.

What are you, and why for me, you feign plethora of sermons?
I did erect Five Pillars, which fell; I’m prerogative of perversion.
Am chained in dark, with demonic sentinel; I shun imbalance,
Or else these ravens with malign molds will coil around like serpents.

“I need not whole of you, my friend, who dreads mere crucifixion,
Nor – yet – the part that conceives: your savior is Religion.
Just your ears mere, just the might of your eyes,
Have you only that, it would suffice.”

[Comes then her narration… through which she turned around my life…]

Her narration:
I hear – but she gripped my arm and took me there…
There – A chamber so dark, a box which bears…
Bear – Boasts just its playthings, need not be scared
Scare – I wish toys were only things at which she glared…
Glare – Room fills with that Assassin; ask what he dared…
Dare – I merely hear, She’s over there; bare…
Bare – A rip here, a tear there, a scar there, EVERYWHERE
Tear – Even Incubus would an open war declare…
Declare – Against that Assassin, for empty went prayers…
Prayer – Yet she offers; her hope for repair…
Repair – Nights still bring her wretched nightmare…
Nightmare – Screams blare, life all bare. God, why unfair?

To think, I believed nothing could make me cry –
Now bleeding tears everywhere, relieved are my eyes.
Thus drained all my Demons, and scattered those Kobolds,
Some beautiful pain was this Exorcism – if truth be told.


Withering Agent

Withering Agent

Let the dust and smoke of this world collapse into your lungs.

Do not from it repulse. They are not enough of withering agents.


The real one is the barren desert, still and empty,

that dwells inside one – a possible breeding ground.


It is not the barrenness of that place that makes it barren.

Only the perception of that barrenness as barren.


Out of the blue awards – Mystery Blogger and One Lovely Blog

We know that I keep myself – and my private life – isolated from my blog posts over here, but I’m just gonna turn slightly carefree of that for a while.

Alright so, getting on, like I had previously established Avantika, I was totally taken back by this award nominee from you. This act of nomination might seem like a casual one to you but holds much prestige in my eyes, so thank you so much; that really comes from the core of my heart.


Getting appreciation and a bit of recognition for our works is both a dessert and a catalyst for us humans, I believe. And yes, let me say the cliched (but true) lines as well: Never had I  – since the time of initiating this blog – imagined that I would get to see this day where I’d be receiving such awards and the frequent, heartwarming compliments from this wonderful blogging community. Have to follow certain rules for it though. The rules for Mystery Blogger award:

Display Award Logo On BlogList

The Rule Mention Creator Of Award & Provide A Link

Thank The Blogger(s) Who Nominated You & Provide A Link

Say 3 Things About Yourself

Nominate From 10 To 20 Bloggers

Notify Nominated Bloggers By Leaving A Comment On Their Blog

Answer 5 Questions From Nominee

Write 5 Questions For Your Nominees

Share Your Best Post



(3) Have already done that,

(4) Three things about myself (brace yourselves for having me take advantage over the vagueness of this rule).

1- I’m chewing an eviscerated piece of bubblegum while I write this down at 3 in the morning (*smirks*).

2- (Alright, let’s get a bit serious) I’m working two part-time jobs while studying simultaneously as of now (Alhamdulillah).

3- Covert, skittish, flippant -> ME. Oh, and a wicked, unruly sense of humor do I possess.

(5) Here are the bloggers that I’m nominating: Although we have not really interacted, I have an adoration with her way of writing; would really like to know her more as well. She’s someone whom I genuinely feel should be read more.

www.seharimtiaz.wordpress.comThis person, gosh! She’s a mind-boggingly crafty writer of Urdu, and her works… I could do no justice by saying anything about them. Read it for yourself (if you can read Urdu) and you’ll see what I’m talking about. She’s someone whom I feel should be read more also. I’d be honest and say that this person’s blog has been quirky and controversial one for me. Though, the way it blends oddly dark art with writing, it strangely mystifies. One with an open mind might wanna give it a go. What to say about Uswa. She is an old schoolmate of mine and someone who’s been in touch lately. Is an admirable person really, and apparently the only one who could, for me, make girls’ fashion and cosmetics stuff an intriguing content to follow and read! My Piscean brother and a dear friend Moiz, who has a surreal mind and a rather surreal hold over words. His writings usually tend to emanate that dreamy feel and you’d wanna drown into it. Just… work on your occasional errors, Moiz.

www.verbalseductionananya.wordpress.comAnanya’s blog is what it promises in its captivating blog name; a verbal seduction. She’s another whom I’d fancy knowing more.

www.theycallmemaham.wordpress.comMaham, another old schoolmate of mine. She has an enchanting way with words. Her ideas, her thoughts, her views, are commendable. She actually could be listed down in the ‘reasons why I wanted to start my own blog’. Literally, Maham.

www.fromchaostocatharsis.wordpress.comAh, last but never the least (the most, rather), here’s Miss Zainab; my inspiration, my motivation since as long as I could remember. I know that I can come up with a date if I really focus, but I really don’t want to, because entertaining the thought that she’s been there since the start gives joy. Z, you’re a mentor, really – one of the reasons I stand over here with a blog to my name (however mediocre). Her works are chilling, I mean it. She is probably the best writer I have interacted with all my life and we both know that she has won a ton of awards (both virtually and practically) I still am nominating her. People should really remember Zainab Syeda Halepota’s name because one day, Inshallah, she’ll be out there as a star writer (her blog’s currently gone private).

Continue reading “Out of the blue awards – Mystery Blogger and One Lovely Blog”



We are standing there

from where, news of our own self

does not to us come.


… Dying in desire

for death. Death keeps appearing,

alas, does not come.


With what face will you

be reaching Lord’s house? Shame till

you yet does not come.

ہم وہاں ہیں جہاں سے ہم کو بھی
کچھ ہماری خبر نہیں آتی

مرتے ہیں آرزو میں مرنے کی
موت آتی ہے پر نہیں آتی

کعبہ کس منہ سے جاؤ گے غالبؔ

.شرم تم کو مگر نہیں آتی

Made a little haiku poem out of last 3 stanzas of Mirza Ghalib’s legendary ode – which coincidentally – terrifically – reflects my current state of devastation.