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Fade out

I have a love/hate relationship with all things old, specially Indian songs, at one hand I love even the things I used to hate and succumb to nostalgia and turn that shit on and as soon as I turn it on I remember why I used to hate that shit at the first place...

I guess it boils down to longing for carefree days and those old songs/movies bring back a faded memory something you could just grasp but it vanishes just before you can touch..  like the memory of the taste of your mother's Alo Ghosht and roti.. its there but just out of reach
I hate going through this chain of thought cause ultimately me it makes me think of all the loved ones Ive lost along the way and also those relationships which went sour due to distance or time... being discarded by the ones that one cared for with ones life due to reasons...
we all have our reasons. but it pains me to think about those who I loved dearly in my life and know in hindsight that I didn't have the same place in their lives as th…

When will you see

O mankind when will you see
that the pain you inflict
is on you and me

The ones you make suffer
from your wars and borders
your own children you murder

Why can't you hear their cries
when they ache with hunger
when a little child dies

Why are your hearts made of stone
to see and still not feel
on the surface you condone

The seeds of hatred you sow
will come back for you
with sirens of death in tow

with no mercy in its eyes
the past will haunt you
when all turns to red in skies

hearts will forget beating
when stones become dust
endless destruction repeating

For there is still time to save
that one child, that one mother
from the hands that enslave

From tyranny and from oppression
from massacres from regrets
humanity's fatal transgression


From the Sidelines

Happy to sit on the sidelines watching the world go by,
for I cannot be anyone else other than my self.

This race in which everyone is running...
Does not interest me...
For I never did like to follow...
It seems it's a pill that I must swallow
for I must give the appearance of compliance
Cause that's what slaves do.

You don't own me

You don't own me
when you preach justice
your actions beg to differ
different rules for you & me

bleed it from every morsel
makes living so extravagant
while slaves do your bid
all vile deeds neatly hid

what is the truth must ask
can see lies behind masks
question becomes forbidden
silence the one who asks

high is the erected facade
how low that dwell within
wretched climb to the top
the deserving get the nod

for some a crisis of faith
for some words of dissent
it becomes hard to ignore
forever a seeker's lament

The Lost Chance

I for one have given up trying to present reason to everyone, for I know that words are useless at this wretched time, when a place loses rule of law and its upholders, it becomes a living hell, a prison for the sane, awoken by the nightmare as the state takes the first steps today towards the genocide of minorities.

Confronted by the twisted priorities of my fellow inmates in this ideological prison, which once was Pakistan, now overrun by blood thirsty overlords that have hatred in their veins. Why couldn't anyone stop these men, the answer is so simple & in plain sight. Fear.

Pakistanis have accepted their fate, they have accepted that these men, just few of them, have their dominion over us, to play with our blood, we have accepted that none of us is capable of standing up to them, just a few, who attack from the shadows, hiding behind hands of patronage from within us, it is the disease that has tainted our blood from within. We let it in, we nurtured it, and now it kill…

Crush

Listening to this sick beat
takes me to another place

to carefree days of youth
a though made my heart race

oblivious of time and space
searching for an embrace

wanting to be loved
for the first time in case

so turn up the bass
turn up the bass

let me feel it again
her state of grace

making up those excuses
for a visit to her place

memories of the first crush
one can never replace

so turn up the bass
turn up the bass

let me feel it again
her state of grace

I wish you knew

Murmurs echos aches forgotten
comfort in the arms till dawn

Lingering questions unanswered
the inside screams when they speak

Stories they make to tell the world
burn more than acid on the heart

For they paint a picture of a saint
whitewashing the conceit & taint

No, you tell lies while knowing all
stood there in silence forever guilty

So cruel to let the fire burn to cinder
when could have stopped the spiral

Perhaps the dead not need forgiveness
reckoning for those fuming the flames

In the end nothing remains of arrogance
saw that when they lifted from the ground