Wednesday, September 20, 2017

जज़्ब



बड़ा जज़्ब है तेरे सीने में
ए रहमते परवर दिगार
ज़रा उनसे कह दो
मुफलिसी में सब्ज़ है
दिल का हरा होना

बड़ा नाज़ है
उनके इस आइनेपन का
ज़रा उनसे कह दो
फ़तूर ए लरज़ है
दिमाग़ का हुनरमंद होना

ग़ैरों से परहेज़ नहीं
लहरों का समन्दर होना
वाबस्ता अब भी है उनसे
फड़कती हुई आँखों में
रूह का सर्द होना 

Monday, September 18, 2017

A NIGHT JOURNEY BY TRAIN



A very dim light, flickering far
into the dense and dark
travel along
my lonely eyes
sitting by the window side
of the moving night train;
gyrating rhythm, marching
iron wheels
rail along, monotonous
doing a parallax shift
as it passes across, and
vanishes into the haze
giving shudder
into my veins;
fear lurking still
hulk
into this onerous night
steering further
till
the train siren
its next station

VOID



of the sweetest voice
that fret me around
after a painful respite
it ferry me across
towards hinterland
unspoken, untreaded
friendliness of a bizarre kind
where from
I prove my existence
without any form
untouchable to a reasonable man
and
part my earthy space
with a shirk
Sans space, sans time
to bellow my whereabouts.
Void, my eternal void

DARK



All eyes
pimp
on 'me'
As
I
submerge
all humanity
on to you

and, dangle
on a single
wire
'lifelees' -

victim
of
tetrahedron legs
vamping
my blood -
like solid ash

spun, and
discarded;
thin
deadly
of unworthy space

a web
A live Spider
dark
and, more dark

GRANDMA



O Grandma
See me
How unworthy 'am
In this fragile frame
Take me there, where
Your wrinkles cusp
my feelings in togetherness
in your abounding love
The hands, that stretches
four grounding to moon
voices generous in all eternity

P.S. - Inspired by dear brother Preeth.

TRYST WITH TRUTH



The real art, availth
a blue vein
of a softer yield

No pride, bubble
croaking frog
in shallow water

Finer strokes
comes wakeful
munificent of a touch

By one proofing
It dwelt a gain
to my beating heart

The real art, plexes
a frill
to its proven kind

No rank, crow
a black art
to its bill

Form comes from formless
to yield it back again
Tryst with truth, availth

ONE MORE EXCESS



Very lazily
you grip me
by long ears
belly of my thoughts
outsinging pain
timid, and fearful
of weaknesses, that
in three consecutive deaths
I was not able
to proclaim
the veracity of Lazarus
the fidelity of my 'self' -
neglect and abandonment
as more tangible.
Overdoing
one more excess
to my death