for I work by day, but live by night*

not an axiom, a formula, for success and wealth,
not a suggestion, not seeking a reaction,
it is a plain as night
fact,
still don't recommend it as a way of life

but if the shoe/life fits
wear it,
even as no sleeps. speeds up your arrival
at the Grand Central Terminal

in black eyed circles, endless pointless future worrying,
in bad poems writ after midnight after midnight
when the quiet
keeps you company - a friend that asks for nothing

(but an occasional mention in one of the poems born
in the delivery room of the dark)

but through the nighttime writing escapades
I am more than renewed,
a born again human
with a covenant, armed to the teeth,
drinking his dis-owned fluids and juices,,
spilling out as staccato words,
ha!
splitting his infinitudes

if you had foreseen this as my future fate,
a lonely human up all night,
with the night and words making his
holy triumvirate, I may have thought
there are worse ways to prepare
for the silence that comes after
the no more arrives
and we depart
ensemble,
ensemble

8/31/17
2:28am

I'm a treasure plundered by romance,
I'm a long forgotten dance,
I'm a lost chance.

A young hunter found me,
She is my real destiny,
Now I am happy.

Sometimes I wonder whether will-power is all
that I need in my life in order to feel whole.

If I learn to never follow my instincts
and rather rely on my rational thinking,
will I feel better, will I feel whole
when I scrape off joviality from the edges of my soul?

Won't I feel bitter, won't I feel low
that I have not smiled sincerely since ages ago?

Is everyone capable of experiencing love
or is this what is said by the Man from above?

Aren't we all delusional enough
to blame God and religion that our lives are so tough?

Are we blind for the realization
that all of us are a creation,
perfectly fallible and right, but often wrong,
yet much like a rhythmic sensation in a song?

Why are we rude and envious of others
when we all should behave just like we're brothers?

Everyone is suffering under the rain
perpetually waiting for the arrival of a plane;
a plane that could carry them to another dimension
but we all know that's just an absurd pretension.

Life does fly by and it's a well-known fact,
yet few can even maintain an eye contact
with that beautiful woman or that handsome man,
standing at the corner of the room with no plan.

Life does fly by and it's a well-know fact,
yet it's just an idea, so abstract
as not to even make an impression,
leaving us deal with our own depression.

Life does fly by, yet that woman can't leave
the man she has married, the man that would deceive.
She's lying to herself that it's all for the better,
swaying down the tree's branch just like a feather.

So, don’t be so anxious, so scared and insincere;
Life is indeed too short for that, dear...

They exploited our traditions,
Divided us on caste lines,
We never wanted those renditions,
They did the dreadful partitions.

The second one was on the map,
Immediate bloodshed had hap,
People woke up from a nap,
They woke up to a gap.

The repercussions’re not eternal,
Time healed the physical wounds,
They somehow got over with it,
Yeah, we moved on over it.

We can’t forget how Sindh was ours,
How the entire Kashmir was ours,
But that was before they came,
Pouring down the mountains like an evil scourge.