،شب و روز بدلتے ہیں پیر و مرشد تیرے
اچھا نہ ہوا خدا نے تجھے جو ولی نہ کیا؟

،قبلہ جو اب ہے درست، یہ سمبھالے رکھ فہد
ولایت سے تو گیا، اب کیا منافقت سے بھی جاۓ گا؟

 


Shab-o-roz badalte hain peer-o-murshid tere,
Acha na hua Khuda ne tujhe jo wali na kiya?

Qibla jo ab hai durust, yeh sambhale rakh, Fahad,
Wilayat se tou gaya, ab kia munafiqat se bhi jayega?


 

Wings Where They Belong

Wings Where They Belong

 


It is easy to find seagulls living in isolation from the company of crows.
Who finds seagulls befriend a crow, frantic at the charity they finally get,
where ultimately the latter flies ways.

The sea is too much a splendor,
broken rooftops reveal greater treasures
save for one who has eyes but no sight.

Paths where clasped hands walk,
from there shoo robins.
One hand with grains pulls a dozen sparrows.

Why cuckoos conceal themselves and sing on branches, I finally know.
It fears not the hawk,
the hawk is much too merciful on the tune.

Why rant of flying when you fly not, you flee?
Jibrael shakes his head at the words you speak.
In reality, these are wings where they belong.

Turn to the pigeons now, revolving round the Ka’aba,
ecstatic like the planets.
Dying echoes of Bilali azaan in their heads.

Painted walls bring a headache, their stench.
It is humbler to perch upon raw brick’s wall.
Or better yet, no walls.


 

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.

Me:
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.

She:
“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.

Continue reading “The Exorcism”

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.


 

Devastation

Devastation

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.