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Thursday 19 June 2014

Ailing Paper

This blank page retches
Coughs ink in your name
Which gradually seeps
Deep back
Into the extensive roots of the paper.

A poem gets stained.

This paper is clinically suffering from you.

What remains on it
Is the communicable disease of Words. 

Tuesday 17 June 2014

The Hare and the Tortoise

The day the hare lost
His race against the tortoise
That’s when Terrorism started
That’s when thematically History changed.

PS: The story is more important than the moral.

Sunday 15 June 2014

Curse poem

Of course F*** is not a religious word
Neither is Shit
Nor bitch, nor crap or piss.

But when
My Love
They come out of your Kashmiri mouth
And rest for a moment on your glossy lips  
It seems as if they have been
Beatified and canonized
Forever.
For eternity and ever
For public use.

An Appetite for Love (III)

Lately
I have developed
An Appetite for Love.

In Love
I want to request all the migratory birds
To deliver your messages unhurriedly.

In Love
I want to weep alone like a child
And name it your unique brand of Love.

In Love
I want to write passionate love letters
But never deliver them to you ever.

In Love
I want to meet you after decades of tiff
And confess my countless deaths.

In Love
I want to eradicate all the miseries from the world
But die of one myself.

In Love
I want to burn all the newspapers of the world
And feed the heap to dictators.

In Love
I want to name all the jilted lovers
Martyrs of an unknown realm.

In Love
I want to pronounce Separation
As a Game of Desires.

In Love
I want to look deep into your eyes
But willingly fail to locate the epicenter of my sickness.

In Love
I want this poor poem to end

At the huge door of your elite house.

Invitation

You, as genuine members
Of Love club, all are
Cordially invited
To the marriage ceremony
Of Mr Broken Heart with Ms Suicide
On whichever day you
Would feel most depressed.


P.S. Lunch will be served to jilted lovers first. 

Thursday 5 June 2014

Burial

After burying her
Surreptitiously in my damp face
I am no longer missed
in the plots of Love.

A Very Short Introduction to Love

It
Persists...

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The day we will meet 
After centuries of hunger
We will drink a glass full of our eyes
With crispy over-baked bodies.