The Blood Of The Poor

I rise early
And see in the east
In the morning
Find you surprisingly
A ball of crimson red
The blood of the poor and destitute
You must have drunk yesterday!
Was it easy, tasty and very cheap?
Or the blood of the rich is not red!

At twilight
In the far west
Again I see you deep red
Surely you have been fed
With the blood of the poor and the destitute
As a tricky delicate delicious food.

Still you are honorable!
Still you are worship able!
In the east

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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Lei

Lei (popular poetry, however, suggestions are invited)

Do not let me roll down on the dust
People will kick or pick me
You will lose your respect
Pull me up
Straight
I am the most eligible
To embellish you neck.

Whom you tie tight to a post
Slowly fading away
Getting rust
Let me roll
I shall never gather moss
I am the most worthy to be your necklace

Let me get the wind and light
The bud in me will bloom

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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Ramadan

Adam ate
Only one
And he was
Kicked and thrown
But I ate
Eleven
Still I am here
And entertained
Till the month
Of Ramadan
To be forgiven
Of my words
And deeds
Evil
But I wonder
The river
Full of flowing water
Erosion
At the both end
In full swing

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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Memories (two)

memories (this poem with salema in collaboration)

The sweet breeze of your words hit
the wall of my heart, some are soft
and some are hard, soft are those still
I remember, hard ones are sent to
fetch some soothing water your velvety
smell with that of the angel works like
a balm on the wounds of the moment
throwing sadness to the salty ocean,
the freshness of your departure burns
me like a missile, I hiccup with
the drink of your guerilla smile, the
parody presence of you in the memory
of mine is a massacre of my mediocre
sense, so I faint and go deep to the
unconsciousness to crash the beauty
of my life in the put out light I explode
darkness to crumble all the weapons
of amazing love violence, I rise again

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poem by Abdul Wahab
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Rock Star

I sing, you sing too but I shall not sing
Like you, you, the king rocking blockbuster
Jumping rock star with a manipulated tune
You have spiral demand in the market cheap
and duplicate.You shout eureka, eureka as if
you got the Latest and biggest diamond, truth,
I do not have lower cased mind to spread the
hand to beg the pearl manufactured in cocktail
glass to drink to jump like a frog out of the pond
to challenge the elephant- the central bank.

Reason- logic, the captive children of your
myopic mind, your rhythm of reality Is the
unfertile arid land bereft of sound imagination
the slave of the grotesque illogical dimensions.

I know the bird, in you, the mother of great falsehood
singing the song sweetest of truth as the cage- bird sings
the sweetest songs of freedom.

poem by Abdul Wahab
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Invaders

The people of another world sucking and licking the high and thick wall separating of my own, the invaders trying to push off some' homo and less' unnatural profaners infected with aids, sucks with the notion that all these are imbedded in the grand design of the code DNA, hey! buffoon, do not cook the books, mine is not less dangerous with hook, line and sinker, hate and anger, for that reason this poem is the result as I loose the bridle, should
I continue or have I to bit? others
have licked up six inch of thirty six
and now and then dropp e- bombs and
‘a' to break my composure and peace
as if they are from the birth at war with
me leaving a cat in me on the hot tin roof,
only the best of the both worlds is that the
population of them is waning due to their own
cursed habits.

poem by Abdul Wahab
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Mother (Two)

On my love,
I do not like to talk too much
As a lot of words
Will only create a commotion
So I prefer to keep a silence
On my nuance
Rest of all I leave,
For your better comprehension

In your child hood
When you do not eat
And in your adult hood
When you do not give me food
Silently I always cry
But still on my brave face
I keep a broad smile..

I do not call you to come in
When I burn myself under the sun,
But when I see you to face cold out-side

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poem by Abdul Wahab
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My Clone

Seldom people like the setting- sun
But people like the sun which is rising…

My sun is in the west
And I feel lonely …

No rain, no wind
In my life..

No rainbow, barren
And suffering from drought

So I ordered a clone
Of myself, to kill my loneliness
and he is cent percent like me
he is all of my attitudes too

I got him
A very lovely one
Every one loves him

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poem by Abdul Wahab
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One Bright Star

I am fond of those dykes
holding up love and hope,
really they are very few
in this world though they
are mostly adulterated,
still they are, I believe,
full of love and milk
please, do not de sacred
them, do not love too
much deep to be called
a fanatic, look at the sky
there is only one bright star,
after so much churning
whatever you produce
is not nectar, in the term
of that in disguise, it is
a great fallacy as no hills
under the ground covered
with much greens, remember
only rivers flow with honey

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poem by Abdul Wahab
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My Love For War

My little inner bird takes a flight with
a fixed height and sees changing lands
low and high, black and white with
camouflage seasons along with colourful
plants and tress, dancing , changing are
the notions, too, of life and love only fixed
is the hill, the symbol of greed, oceans are
of lust, blood takes the same colour, pain
gives the same suffering but different
meaning of them altogether , what love
means here, that love is not there so I wag
a war against love though overflowing in my
songs and poems, do I not have a heart?
Why can not I feel the same which I feel
for myself? or am I missing something,
the meaning of love? Have I not perceived
love from the sun? A sense! No, no, I have
no world in my wallet which can describe love!
War has a full of terminology so I love war.

poem by Abdul Wahab
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