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
with every breath at stake

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…


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

The Obituary of Sanity

Future generations will surely look at this time and wonder what was the reason behind the missed opportunity. Why did the humans of this time squander and plunder every natural resource they could find. Why didn't they realise that by poisoning the earth they were in fact poising themselves. Why with all the freedom to build, to nurture, we choose war & destruction. I certainly don't have all the answers and I sincerely believe that no one else has either, if we had, human kind would have long changed its ways.
What a wasted opportunity though, all that intellect and potential serving only petty desires of wealth and conquest. Look around you, every act of suffering inflicted on another human being is by a human being. Every injustice, every atrocity, every act of insane violence, is self inflicted as if the human kind is hell bent on self annihilation.
The divide has never been clearer. Every corner of the earth, walls are being erected. Walls of intolerance, of hatred…

Retrospect. Introspect.

How can you go about censuring others when you might be guilty of the same.  How quickly we become the Judge and the executioners.

A mystic once said, that nothing ever had him dumbfounded but a woman who had a tray in her hands, it was covered with a cloth. He asked her what was in it and she said, why would I have covered it if I wanted this to be known? That was an epiphany which made the mystic really ashamed. This is not just a saying, its a lesson of a life time, that if something is hidden, or you come to know about a wrong doing, don't try to uncover or spread it to others.

Don't try to look under the masks we all wear, even if you are certain that the there is something dreadful. If someone has respected you this much that he has presented his best face to you, the least we can do is to accept it.

Everyone has demons in their closets which they hide from even themselves. May Allah keep concealing our sins in this world & the next, for if we knew about each other,…

Shadow Play

Fake piety, wearing robes of decay You stand there speaking of dismay
False words, with the tune to sway To fill up the coffers thats so easy
You act so precious so every cliché What are you a man made of clay
Flaunt excess, revel in shadow play Forget the dust waiting to repay 
Makes no distinction for majesty Forsaken are those with no humility