Slow the love (Continues) Final Episode Undone
The beloved asked who told you this
Art thou God to decide the fate
Calling the episodes as the final
Did not the love tell you of the thought
So sacred but the blasphemy of love
As the story goes when the legendry lover
Adam Khan* dies with story teller in tears
From the audience a man with a sword
Bring him back or you pay with your life
The horse with the wings that thou flyeth
In the visions ah the beloved appeared
In dreams in the nature in the loneliness
Of nights and the afternoons thou spent
The episode who knows what final or primal
From the beloved thou wanted separation
In the religion of love none worshiped
None worshipper as no rituals in play
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poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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David And She
She rubbed the bows rick on earth
From between the crevices of sandy bricks
Where the purple flowers would stick in deep
Black crow would tell her the time not a minute
Up and down as the sun ray in gold would stream
Inside to wake him up in the month of holy rituals
From convoluted desires of libido her aroma of youth
Just budding for the mystery in her head as her bosom
Would hang down to let her know of ripeness
First of the fruit of the season in tenderness
Beneath the small holes of windows would she
For the effect on the body of David as sculpted
Of dreams the moment she steals in real
She her enzymes of chemistry tingling vitals
No one knows what is happening in that dawn
There were more birds than were the usual
The old lady like dried tree bark
Looked for her she reminded of her youth
The pull of the bodies from David and the she
Unbraided her hair to let loose the odor
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poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Sunset Redness
In the sunset redness
When the twilight
With its red color
The color of blood and red roses
The rustic color where romance of years
Has receded in rust
Of the old mans hedge
Or balcony
Or the love of a fighter
When he suddenly discovers
That his long cherished gun
Has gone rustic
Or that small dog
When we watched his movie
Years ago
And the laughter in our small lounge
The sweet memories of the past
And the sunset redness
When it gathers itself from the face of earth
And then in the form of a ball
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poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Ode to a Cuppa Coffee
The stir is the circle of fate
Chewed to remain forever awake
Meditation in mocha before its discovery
From soils in Africa the bean in Arabica
Purity of the romance in walls adored
Mud and water and beans in jute
Down the fingers for the texture
On the nose with eyes closed
Perception of divine yet the beauty
With both hands for the eyes see
Fumes like the hairs of love
Like dusk after the sunset
Eyes twilight
First sip in creamy froth not unlike
In slow heat brewing the cup
Hence from where it is said life began
To the other sip goes the consciousness
Unreason still in unself now
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poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Play On The Music
Play on the music
Drop by drop
The strings divine
The nature at its eloquence
From heavens to earth
Stretch the string
Play on the music
Drop by drop
Beethoven’s symphony
Chopin’s piano
Santana’s guitar
Or the cuckoos song
Play on the music
Drop by drop
In the heat of the night
In cold surroundings
The story of my love
My illusions great
I construct heavens
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poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Total Freedom
In absolute oblivion
With nature and the forces of existence
Into play
Thousands years of history
Written
Some relics and the forgotten one
Gods word or the wise mans talk
Deriving meaning from the stars
Sun and the moon
Goddesses and deities
The great abstraction
In the realm of thought
Freedom remains the desire
Freedom from the bonds of the humanity
Freedom from all wants
Freedom from the will of others
Imposed or perpetuated
Freedom from ideas
In the name of social consciousness
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poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Laborer
In the sizzling heat of the afternoon
Clothes drenched and shoes filled with sweat
Last nights long shift makes the body ache
In growing age when the muscle is the only strength
The will like faith growing stronger with each passing day
A disease knocking at the visceral parts of the body
Joints now like the hinges in the machine need oil
Moved in hundreds and like all others
Away from the family and the little ones memory
A letter from the home in need of money
For the doctor’s fee as education is forlorn desire
Minimum wage half robbed by the supervisor
And like a true competition in economics
Out on the metal gates a replacement is waiting
Alienated from the production of the product
Creating surplus for the consumption of the rich
His toils are in the shine of the markets in goods glittering
Unaware of the political upheaval
No care for his welfare
He has no future; his children will also work like him
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poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Edge to Edge (Post post modern poetry)
When I slept in the afternoon after going through the ordeal of riding a cab in the heat only my Donna Karan glasses less by one degree in darkness and covering all my eyes protected me from fainting I wore my shirt which was stinking from sweat when I threw myself on the bed escaping the eyes of the old widow in the other room the fan went off I concentrated to sleep even without and I did after intense fantasies remembering the movie “The Pianist” I had watched the last night and the inspired soldier who let the soul of the pianist survive and himself landed in the war prison camp because he wanted to contact that other foolish violinist who instead spat on him being German and he could not be saved by the pianist as the pianist did not know his name because when the German soldier was getting inspired by the music in ruins he forgot telling him his name we are all victims of romance the German soldier could have made a bargain the pianist was too hungry to know about him and terrified for what he had seen when I woke up I got hold of my guitar similarly inspired as the German soldier was I entered into a black shirt on whose collar is written ‘edge to edge’ with an emblem of an animal having one long horn I went to drink coffee before I took a bath when I picked my phone to make a call one dear number of mine with me since a decade I found that it was stolen by someone my dreams shattered suddenly in the wake of reality of the number from the pianist now I was in deep trouble I came out my appetite was no more I entered a bakery to buy myself a burger that was wrapped in polythene there was no place to sit the burger was put in oven some of the polythene melted into the sauce my fingers burned to open the ketchup sachet I came into the dark corner a dog was sleeping I preferred sharing my burger with a cat on small concrete steps the cat could not take diet coke pieces of chicken slipped down and she was eating I rubbed my hands on my shorts and thanked the cat for she was my friend on dinner
8/8/2009
PS: These are real events narration in what I call 'post post modern poetry' writing straight what you feel without giving it a form or even punctuation
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Tribal Ways (Karez* of Dabkot*)
From the first habitations in the valley
In old fortress like Kot* called the old Kot
The occupation was fabulous for the earth
Did promise of harvests in plenty for all
Towards the west in steep rising the plateau
Behind the small hills the sun would set
There were springs of water when in refuge
The encampment was settled before the valley
For the water how to fetch and for the fields
Underground channels they had seen
On the way through the oasis of villages
Who could do it for the skill was possessed
Uzbeks from north who bore the earth
To bring down water on surface in the middle
The rejoicing village as inhabitants grew further
Divided times as to capacity of the clan
Soon greenery was patched on dry soil
Plumes and apples and mulberries
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poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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