subah phir honay ko hai

subah phir honay ko hai kumbakht dopehar honay ke baad
shaam ab thumnay ko hai phir se qeher honay ke baad

shaikh jee ro bhi chuko ab qehqahaa liye bohat
aankh num bhi kar chuko tum itna sonay ke baad

raah takte takte thuk gaye hum thakan ka kya kaheN
jo bhi kehnay ko tha hum sun chukay kehnay ke baad

dopehar bhi Theek hai per do nafil ki bheek hai
shaikh-eeyat Thaan li ik nafil paRhnay ke baad

kya qatal gaahoN ki manzil shab per hoti hai khatam
kya wuzoo ka karobaar garm hoga sehar honay ke baad.

Blighted

The blight furnishes itself in dollops of oohs and aahs and
Brilliants and skirmishes of angst battling with overdoses

Of what it means to be and the right of animals and the
Forsaken guilt trips, the armchair residues of permanent

Philosophy, of moral turpitude, the glass full of anaemic
Passion juice, and the urgency, the tepid urgency of

Shodden matters, trodden with loud hats and excuse
Me pleases, excuse you jesus, and the line that is taut

Just enough so as not to break, but bending is allowed
Otherwise it breaks, the brilliants and skirmishes come

Tumbling down; the blight is furnished o so often but
Not often enough, the oohs the aahs, and thank yous.

Platitude

Platitude often get missed when the door to revelry is
Bolted to the sky, when the cave that leads to loudness
Is speared on to the veryness of every every day and
When fear of flying lies dormant in your pocket with
The odd visiting card and a piece of unused tissue paper.