Thank you Scott for being a wonderful person and an amazing friend.

Human Writes

Maryam ShahbazI sent my friend Maryam an e-mail…wanted to make sure she didn’t mind me using her picture in this piece.  A female activist in her country was recently assassinated for audaciously using words to call attention to the suffering in her land.  There’s money and power in misery, and those who try to pull the plug on the money machine will pay…with their lives, if necessary.  I didn’t want to put my friend in any such danger.  She is a poet, and she has a voice, and she is a woman, and…she’s from the dangerous and demonized nation of Pakistan.

She didn’t answer for a few days, and I was concerned.  Finally, this came:

“Major electricity and internet problem ! Our government is striving to provide us with many options of ‘going out’.  Now, everyone is losing their hope for a brighter day.  Those who have means to go…

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Lustrous World

Lustrous World

My secrets take wings on the bellowing winds,

The angels gazed down and widely grinned,

I am introduced to a bright new world,

A world filled with lustrous glory and light twirls,


The Departed Soul

That withered soul

Breaks the human bonds

And soars

To set on a journey far

Beyond the reach of the mortal call

Finally drifts off to complete

The Fate full carved

Dwindles onto the hazed clues

On the reclusive path

To the promised reigns true

It splurges

Emerges to the prized highs

Conflicted with the urges

Thoughts of flying back

To once again

Immerse in the dazzling divulges

One last glance at the world

For that contentment of the broken soul

Covet those desires unfulfilled

Craves to utter the words unsaid and unspilled

Kinship roars

Although, quickly disfigured and implored

Hawks scourge to mislead the willed

Bit by the wrinkled claws skilled

Heaven prims surge

Giddily, stand at the light curve

Wait to embrace the departed soul

The trifle human remains

Are left of the life carefully mold

After him, days keep unveiling to unroll

Not any tasks hold gild

At last, men realize, memories aren’t sacred holes


This is like a roller coaster ride. Everything just keeps on hitting simultaneously. Amazing work !


She sings a song to warn the world
“the sun is rising; i’ll soon be flying
here i am, catch me if you can
catch me if you can, here i am, here i am.”
Brave lil bird repeats her greeting
sees a shadow in the breeze fleeting.
The sly fox he trots up to the tree
“little bird, little bird, did you call me?”
“funny old fox, if these wings could throw rocks
that’s what they would do, i assure you.
go to bed go to bed; it isn’t you i dread
for here comes the sun; your nocturnal day is done.”
From a twig of the tree she spreads her wings;
starts to fly and starts to sing:
“the sun is rising, the dew is drying
here i am flying, here i am flying.”
oh she’s making such a sound,
the cat in the hedge is woken and…

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Our Homeland’s Worth

Fireworks all around,

Footsteps without a sound;

The routes to righteousness profound,

Illiteracy all around;

Inadequacies grown wildly on ground,

Unjust rulers found;

The nation bleeding from wound,

Followed by powerful hound;

Corruption with limitless bound;

We need to be freed,

Of all our misdeeds;

And eradicate sorrow,

To witness another tomorrow;

Joining hands,

To make our land;

A place to thrive,

Won’t sweep to worldly drives;

A heaven on earth,

Is our homeland’s worth.


Act of Life

Peering through the cracked holes of memories and strife, I find an abrupt rupture of involuntary heartache. The battles should be fought and forgotten, not to be buried in plain sight. But, the heart can never seem to let anything pass by it and drown in the ocean of nothingness. It wraps them around in the smoothness of its flimsy core, to be touched upon when darkness befalls and would not vacate. It clutches them delicately and makes them rest in the throbbing articulation of its Life.

Life, I wonder, is not simply comprised of desolate contentions and defeats, losses and stings, strikes and miss. It often brings along many triumphs, laughter and affections. Yet, when you look back at the time spend, the tiny specks of joy fleet by like momentary glimpses of color. While, the anguish of Life itself lingers on, dissolving in the most reluctant commutes of Life.

The road through Life is twisted and barren with occasional showers of delight. Although, happiness finds tiny holes to fill, it is the essence on which we keep dragging the tired souls. When we slide across the journey of our hearts, we never imagine we would someday be molding our beings into something beyond our realization. We let go of the things we proclaim of never pulsing without and manage to complete the emptiness inside. The time moves on neither stopping nor holding for us to catch on. The evil gripping’s of the moments torment and pass through without a back glance. In all the yearning’s, Hope is the only stronghold for us to reside comfortingly, peacefully. The lonely manifestation of the being is evident in the course of the Universe. But, the acceptance of this reality is so shroud that we keep on flapping our hands to hold on to someone in the airstream of Nature. The medal of Divinity is the spirituality we all should Hope to achieve and gain. It may be the award of the soul tainting and the strength it takes to recover it bit by bit. Although, the realization of the cravings our souls desire, takes a lifetime of conflicts within our conscience.

Our reflection shines to us brighter than the new moon. If we were ever to know the worth of our Life acts, we would entirely reform the views we once professed. I forever remain confused in the verified categorization of humans. Does the varied spiritual form require admiration regardless of its divulgence?

Wars have been brought to alter the truth of the blithe. Do we not acknowledge the trials of our souls that we make it an aim to drag others through the very same suffering! This is to say the least about the modernized literacy of our day. Our age is the age when the return of barbaric practices takes place. We find no shame to be the direct or indirect source of anyone’s multiple afflictions, so long as we can entertain the ideals of our own Life. Those mortals are naïve in principle and to the core who believe to be of greater virtue than the rest. Their actuality plumps with time. Their souls have rotten to the staple. Yet, they remain entangled in the auspiciousness of their beings.

Life is neither a mystery we believe it to be nor a battle we perceive it to be. It is simple! And beautiful.  But like all things we humans have made our job to destroy, it has been corrupted with immoral impurities. Now, picking out the conceits of our creation seems an impossibility to us. We can’t imagine succeeding in isolation now. Our Falah is in the aggregated penance and purity of humanity. And to achieve this feat, we need a miracle sooner than later or the eternal doom will be ours in this world and after.Image