Cum

Slow
stabs of twilight
broken at light's end
carve out an ache.

Crowds of time
converge
in dutiful longing
at mind's precipice.

Love
dull as the day
seeks night's mirage
of touch not felt.

Moments crumble
like words
peeling from paint
on formless walls.

I Know

My heart is a mess, this much I know
No words to be found as such, I know

There is but shame to survive the pain
A pinch of a nerve, a touch I know

Don't kill the man for beauty's sake, love
Your eyes will long for that, much, I know

Give life its death and live tonight
Dreams are no match for how much I know

Ill-gotten are all your woes, that's true
When fate arrives that's your crutch, I know

A name, not a feeble sigh, Aslam,
Is what's yours but not to touch, I know


(This is in the form of a ghazal.)

Grieving

Time should be more in tune
Casbahs are only rocked so often;
The dirge should melt into the rhythm
As words leave their melodies behind

Dances of thought in silence, crying
To the beating of a dull heart...
That's what lasts into the mourning
Where all awaits tomorrow's demise

Never in sight or touch or smell
But the rain falls just as well —
It's not a young night that goes by
Sultry streets of monsoons unseen

There is no love in the wind, just
A light breeze of midnight's charm —
That's how morning, lone, awakens to
Day's jagged, kaleidoscopic glares

Don't give that old lust a name or face
It's not as empty as its sin
But averse to being who you've become
In the lap of night, this far from time

When Tomorrow Comes

Take the train that left the station when tomorrow comes
Give in to the lost temptation when tomorrow comes

Hope and lust will grow a tree and shade forever
Mediocre aspiration when tomorrow comes

Books lined up to fend off love between breathing bookends
Left bereft of sublimation when tomorrow comes

All the prickly heat desire soothes to pamper touch
Won't subside and save sensation when tomorrow comes

Left alone with TV shows, time will make peace with space
Skip the ads of admonition when tomorrow comes

Groundhogs scared of shadows and robins obsessed with Spring
Will tell tales of pride in nation when tomorrow comes

In the heart of fortune lies the blind comfort of bliss
Drink from fountains of damnation when tomorrow comes

The mess, Aslam, at meaning's last horizon of faith
Could show proof of evolution when tomorrow comes

(A ghazal. I had some fun with this one -- goes from personal/"deep" to silly to topical, tries to mix it all up, and isn't ashamed of a few clichés...)

And Lie

Quiet truths rise with evening's fall from grace and lie
Morning beckons dreams to fly in life's face and lie

No more, no less, this everlasting absent time
What demise will life's work adorn, efface and lie?

Win for me love's lavender bounty in daylight
My prize, I pray, this time I won't deface and lie

Soon it will begin, the promised epoch of naught
Today's still moment must know this disgrace and lie

Worlds turn, Aslam, dancing with all of your past loves
Would that you could eke out one true embrace and lie

(This is a ghazal.)