all manner of things shall be well.

2008-09-30T01:57:00.000-07:00

Velveteen Rabbit
by Margery Williams

What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist

“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I’ve thought a lot about this.”

- Dev, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, Rachel Cohn and David Levithan

2008-09-30T01:55:00.000-07:00

I hurl my heart to halt his pace,
To quench his thirst i squander bood;
He eats, and still his need seeks food,
Compels a total sacrifice.
His voice waylays me, spells a trance,
The gutted forest falls to ash
Appaled by secret want, i rush
From such assault of radience.
Entering the tower of my fears,
I shut the doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door i bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:

The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs.

exerpt from Pursuit, by Sylvia Plath

2008-09-27T02:31:00.000-07:00

[i stray -sleep deprived ]
[i sway - naam adaa likhna - OST: yahan]

This isn't my return ...
it's just to say i miss you .. yellowlane.

if i asked, would you start a revival for me?
i have a story i want to tell you.
_
sometimes i feel like we're a secret.

my syllabus looks very daunting to me. seems im still not really ready for the academic part of my life. haha. no seriously studying deliriously seven days a week has finally slowed down .. it's like my body's saying to me "for God's sake woman - STOP!" . thanks to these EID holidays. though i still have alot of study to do, an.. nah, 2 assignments due?

in other part of the cycle, it all happened so fast so now all that's left is for me to lie in a pool of regret, wishing i did this and not that. how ridiculous is that? sometimes i realise that im not at all in control of my life. people who i always expected to be there, i slowly realise will not always be there.
(ever so slowly). and so much of me just wants to say, 'not yet, we've only just begun'. i want to know you, and im tired of realising that i don't. if only i could learn this. because i still really want to know you.

i wish some things were less hard.
oh well lets hope for good, as i still have a hope in my heart. there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel, hope for the betterment.

P.s. i dont know just what else to say right now. there's so much i could say, and i feel like this entry is just brushing the surface. but im so sleepy and i think i should be off to bed now. i like to disappear, but it's not good to disappear completely. i know.
good night yellowlane. ( :

_
neurotica
4:37 am

2008-09-20T01:04:00.000-07:00

We had everything to say to each other, but no ways to say it.

He wrote, Are you OK?

I told him, My eyes are crummy.

He wrote, But are you OK?

I told him, That's a very complicated question.

I asked, Are you OK?

He wrote, Some mornings I wake up feeling grateful.

_
EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE -
jonathan safran foer

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Seagull.
NINA. All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, horned stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, starfish from the sea, and creatures invisible to the eye—in one word, life—all, all life, completing the dreary round imposed upon it, has died out at last. A thousand years have passed since the earth last bore a living creature on her breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in vain. No longer are the cries of storks heard in the meadows, or the drone of beetles in the groves of limes. All is cold, cold. All is void, void, void. All is terrible, terrible—[A pause] The bodies of all living creatures have dropped to dust, and eternal matter has transformed them into stones and water and clouds; but their spirits have flowed together into one, and that great world-soul am I! In me is the spirit of the great Alexander, the spirit of Napoleon, of Caesar, of Shakespeare, and of the tiniest leech that swims. In me the consciousness of man has joined hands with the instinct of the animal; I understand all, all, all, and each life lives again in me.

--Act I
Anton Chekov

2008-09-20T00:34:00.000-07:00

the fucking cops are fucking keen
to fucking keep it fucking clean
the fucking chief's a fucking swine
who fucking draws a fucking line
at fucking fun and fucking games
the fucking kids he fucking blames
are nowhere to be fucking found
anywhere in chicken town

the fucking scene is fucking sad
the fucking news is fucking bad
the fucking weed is fucking turf
the fucking speed is fucking surf
the fucking folks are fucking daft
don't make me fucking laugh
it fucking hurts to look around
everywhere in chicken town

the fucking train is fucking late
you fucking wait you fucking wait
you're fucking lost and fucking found
stuck in fucking chicken town

the fucking view is fucking vile
for fucking miles and fucking miles
the fucking babies fucking cry
the fucking flowers fucking die
the fucking food is fucking muck
the fucking drains are fucking fucked
the colour scheme is fucking brown
everywhere in chicken town

the fucking pubs are fucking dull
the fucking clubs are fucking full
of fucking girls and fucking guys
with fucking murder in their eyes
a fucking bloke is fucking stabbed
waiting for a fucking cab
you fucking stay at fucking home
the fucking neighbors fucking moan
keep the fucking racket down
this is fucking chicken town

the fucking train is fucking late
you fucking wait you fucking wait
you're fucking lost and fucking found
stuck in fucking chicken town
the fucking pies are fucking old
the fucking chips are fucking cold
the fucking beer is fucking flat
the fucking flats have fucking rats
the fucking clocks are fucking wrong
the fucking days are fucking long
it fucking gets you fucking down
evidently chicken town

- John Cooper Clarke

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed
by Dylan Thomas

Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.

Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.

Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell.
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.

2008-09-10T01:07:00.000-07:00

. A giant panda cuddles its baby. The pictured baby panda is half the normal birth size.

. A worker measures one of twin baby pandas at the Bifengxia Base of China's Giant Panda Protection and Research Center, in Ya'an, China after Giant Panda "Guo Guo" gave birth to the twins at the base earlier in the day.
The twelve-year-old mother "Guo Guo" was rescued from the centre's Wolong base in Sichuan and brought to the Bifengxia base after a devastating earthquake.

_
Source:
http://environment.uk.msn.com/wildlife/gallery.aspx?cp-documentid=8733544

2008-09-04T02:18:00.000-07:00

He wraps his arms around her from behind, buries his face in the side of her neck. 'I'm not going to leave. I love you. I love you so much.'

Her belly springs a leak and the liquid flows through his hands.

'I'm bones in a box, Teddy.'

'No.'

'I am. You have to wake up.'

_
Shutter Island, Dennis Lehane

2008-09-04T02:10:00.000-07:00

Static -
Nick Drake

When you pulled the t-shirt
over your stooped head
I heard the crackle of static
and imagined the soft,
invisible fur
of charged atmosphere
over the TV's
translucent imagery.

Lights out, my blind
and all-believing hands
discover the ghost
of a smile
on your invisible face;
here you are
in your skin,
shocking against mine.

2008-08-24T04:32:00.000-07:00

[Roshan Jamaal-e-Yaar - Abida Parveen]
download - left click and follow the link.

_
Roshan Jamaal-e-Yaar

Roshan jamaal-e-yaar se hai anjuman tamaam
Dehka hua hai aatish-e-gul se chaman tamaam

Hayrat ghuroor-e-husn se shokhi se iztaraab
Dil ne bhi tere sheekh liye hain chalan tamaam

Allah re jism-e-yaar ki khoobi k khud-ba-khud
Rangeeniyon mein doob gaya pairahan tamaam

Daikho to chashm-e-yaar ki jadoo nigahiyaan
Behosh ik nazar mein hoi anjuman tamaam

Sheeriniye nasim hai sozo-gudaz-e-Mir
Hasrat tere sukhan pe hai rukhse-e-sukhan tamaam

lyricist: Moulana Hasrat Mohani

2008-08-24T04:19:00.000-07:00

Carry Me -
Chris de burgh

There is an answer, some day we will know,
And you will ask her, why she had to go,
We live and die, we laugh and we cry,
And you must take away the pain,
Before you can begin to live again;

So let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the tears come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carre me like a fire in your heart;

There is a river rolling to the sea,
You will be with her for all eternity,
But we that remain need you here again,
So hold her in your memory
And begin to make the shadows disappear;

Yes let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the love come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carry me like a fire in your heart;

So let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the love come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carry me like a fire in your heart..

2008-08-19T03:14:00.000-07:00

"You dream, right?"
"In my way."
"Do you like being alive?"
"Let's say I feel attached to it."
"Do you worry about dying?"
"Programmed to. There's a survival chip."
"Well, we're all programmed, don't you think? By our makers?"

Specimen Days - Michael Cunningham

____________
Long Distance Drunk

Three a.m. drunks, all over America, were staring at the walls, having finally given up. You didn't have to be a drunk to get hurt, to be zeroed out by a woman; but you could get hurt and become a drunk. You might think for a while, especially when you were young, that luck was with you, and sometimes it was. But there were all manner of averages and laws working that you knew nothing about, even as you imagined things were going well. Some night, some hot summer Thursday night, you became the drunk, you were out there alone in a cheap rented room, and no matter how many times you'd been out there before, it was no help, it was even worse because you had got to thinking you wouldn't have to face it again. All you could do was light another cigarette, pour another drink, check the peeling walls for lips and eyes. What men and women did to each other was beyond comprehension.

Hot Water Music - Charles Bukowski

2008-08-19T03:08:00.000-07:00

Miniature Bridges, Your Mouth -
Marty McConnell

what we do in the dark has no hands. no
crossover effect, no good-bye kiss after the alarm.
what we carry in, we carry out, end of story. this
doesn't even want to be love. except in minutes
when your face has the shape of my palm and I think
lungful. let want out with the cat. returns
and returns, something dutiful. persistent.
hold your breath, let it build, let go. this is practice.
I'm losing weight, a bad sign, I'm happy. serious,
you say. contained, I think. the cat comes back
with a dead bird to the doorstep, an offering. bloodless
this should be easy. a two-step to cowboys. you're beautiful
but that's not the point.

x

I know my way back perfectly well. like the back
of my hand, as it were. but look, the labyrinth walls
are high hedge and green. this also could be joy.

xx

I literally don't know your middle name. does that
matter? what systems we arrange for intimacy, small
disclosures like miniature bridges, your mouth. not
what I'd anticipated. softer. to begin with,
I should tell the truth more. I could miss you,
and that's a liability.

xxx

I am not often off-kilter. but you're so silent, even
naked, and almost absent. I hush too, why
are we here. go. want to throw things, you, the clock,
break windows until something bleeds and you finally
scream. I tell you too much; we are not
those people. or nothing--maybe I say
utilitarian fuck. how would that be. I want you
to want to fall in love with me and that's
unhealthy. wrong. leave your shoes by the door
and pretend it's about the movie. it's love
in the movies it's casablanca and toy story
and water no ice come here. pockets need
to be untucked, drawers thrown open,
nobody's safe. there, I've said it:
someone I was could have loved you.

2008-08-13T04:07:00.000-07:00

and sometimes when it rains i think of
all the places we should have seen
i think of all the times we got stuck in between
sucked into a world of violence and misery
but when i closed my eyes for an escape
i would almost always see your face
i don't worry now where you are
i don't hold my breath for dreams to come true
i said goodbye to those days when i lost you
but every now and then when the skies open up
and i get lost in my memory; lost in my past
i remember how beautiful the sky could be when i would look at you and you would look at me`

2008-08-03T04:44:00.000-07:00

"That's the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen."

Women -
Charles Bukowski

__

No, you are not worthy of the love which I have devoted to you. I knew all along that the prize I had set my life on was not worth the winning; that I was a fool, with fond fancies, too, bartering away my all of truth and ardour against your little feeble remnant of love. I will bargain no more: I withdraw."

Vanity Fair - William Thackeray

__

The clitoris is pure in purpose. It is the only organ in the body designed purely for pleasure. The clitoris is simply a bundle of nerves: 8,000 nerve fibers, to be precise. That's a higher concentration of nerve fibers than is found anywhere else in the body, including the fingertips, lips, and tongue, and it is twice...twice...twice the number in the penis. Who needs a handgun when you've got a semiautomatic.

Woman: An Intimate Geography
by Natalie Angier

2008-08-03T03:30:00.000-07:00

Picture of the day...
Hudson River Valley storm - HCW

2008-08-03T03:13:00.000-07:00

THE SAME OLD FIGURATIVE
Joel Toledo

Yes, the world is strange, riddled with difficult sciences
and random magic. But there are compensations, things we do

understand; the high cries and erratic spirals of sparrows,
the sky gray and now giving in to the regular rain.

Still we insist on meaning, that common consolation
that, now and then, makes for beauty. Or disaster.

Listen. The new figures are simply those of birds,
the whole notes of their flightless bodies now snagged

on the many scales of the city. And it's just some thunder,
the usual humming of wires. It is only in it's breaking

that the rain gives itself away. So come now and assemble
with the weather, notice the water gathering in your cupped

and extended hands--familiar and wet and meaningless.
You are merely being cleansed. Bare instead

the scarred heart; notice how it's wild human music
makes such sense. Come, the diving

can wait.
Let us examine the wreckage.

2008-07-24T05:02:00.000-07:00

Downloads ..

Tere liye palko'n ki - lata mangeshker
kahin duur jub - lata mangeshker (album: Shraddhanjali)
yeh nayan daray daray - lata mangeshker (album: Shraddhanjali)
yeh jeevan hai -lata mangeshker (album: Shraddhanjali)
baahon ke ghairay mein - Kishore Kumar

[left click n follow the link- you'll need to log onto Coolgoose for downloading these songs]

2008-07-24T04:30:00.000-07:00

___________
"I'll walk you."

"No, no, sometimes a person feels to be alone." "If you're alone too much," Persky said, "you think too much."

"Without a life," Rosa answered, "a person lives where they can. If all they got is thoughts, that's where they live."

"You ain't got a life?"

"Thieves took it."

- Rosa by Cynthia Ozick

2008-07-24T04:13:00.000-07:00

The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator
by Anne Sexton

The end of the affair is always death.
She's my workshop. Slippery eye,
out of the tribe of myself my breath
finds you gone. I horrify
those who stand by. I am fed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Finger to finger, now she's mine.
She's not too far. She's my encounter.
I beat her like a bell. I recline
in the bower where you used to mount her.
You borrowed me on the flowered spread.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Take for instance this night, my love,
that every single couple puts together
with a joint overturning, beneath, above,
the abundant two on sponge and feather,
kneeling and pushing, head to head.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

I break out of my body this way,
an annoying miracle. Could I
put the dream market on display?
I am spread out. I crucify.
My little plum is what you said.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Then my black-eyed rival came.
The lady of water, rising on the beach,
a piano at her fingertips, shame
on her lips and a flute's speech.
And I was the knock-kneed broom instead.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

She took you the way a women takes
a bargain dress off the rack
and I broke the way a stone breaks.
I give back your books and fishing tack.
Today's paper says that you are wed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.

2008-07-03T05:42:00.000-07:00

aaja soniye - OST: dus kahaniyaan
for audio download right click n save the target.

2008-07-03T05:08:00.000-07:00

Downloads

Tumhara Ishq -Shakila Khurasani
Usne jub mujhse -Shakila Khurasani
Ab kisay chahein -Shakila Khurasani

[right click n save target as]

2008-07-03T05:02:00.000-07:00

Quote of the day ...

`meri yeh aadat bohut pehlay se thi aur ab pakki hogaye hai mere andar kay mein apnay khayal mein bhi khud se kuch keh raha hota hon to tub bhi aisa hota hai jaisay tumse keh raha hon .. tumhain bata raha hon .. yeh bohut ajeeb baat hai jo mein bohat asaani se keh raha hon.

2008-07-03T05:01:00.000-07:00

Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit
Jeanette Winterson

I have a theory that every time you make an important choice, the part of you left behind continues the other life you could have had. Some people's emanations are very strong, some people create themselves afresh outside of their own body. This is not fancy. If a potter has an idea, she makes it into a pot, and it exists beyond her, beyond its own separate life. She uses a physical substance to display her thoughts. If I use a metaphysical substance to display my thoughts, I might be anywhere at one time, influencing a number of different things, just as the potter and her pottery can exert influence in different places. There's a chance that I'm not here at all, that all the parts of me, running along all the choices I did and didn't make, for a moment brush against each other.

2008-07-02T07:07:00.000-07:00

Come Undone

Mine, immaculate dream made breath and skin
I've been waiting for you
Signed, with a home tattoo,
Happy birthday to you was created for you

can't ever keep from falling apart
At the seams
Can't I believe you're taking my heart
To pieces

Oh, it'll take a little time,
Might take a little crime
To come undone now

We'll try to stay blind
To the hope and fear outside
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind
And blow me in to cry

Who do you need, who do you love
When you come undone

Words, playing me deja vu
Like a radio tune I swear I've heard before
Chill, is it something real
Or the magic I'm feeding off your fingers

Can't ever keep from falling apart
At the seams
Can I believe you're taking my heart
To pieces

Lost, in a snow filled sky, we'll make it alright
To come undone now

Duran duran
[dedicated]

2008-06-18T04:34:00.000-07:00

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver

2008-05-07T04:47:00.000-07:00

for the unluved and the luved.

2008-05-07T04:41:00.000-07:00

The Silver Chair
C.S. Lewis

"All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things- trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make up a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say."

-Puddleglum

2008-04-26T05:37:00.000-07:00

I know just how to whisper
And I know just how to cry
I know just where to find the answers
And I know just how to lie
I know just how to fake it
And I know just how to scheme
I know just when to face the truth
And then I know just when to dream

And I know just where to touch you
And I know just what to prove
I know when to pull you closer
And I know when to let you loose
And I know the night is fading
And I know the time's gonna fly
And I'm never gonna tell you
Everything I gotta tell you
But I know I gotta give it a try

And I know the roads to riches
And I know the ways to fame
I know all the rules
And I know how to break 'em
And I always know the name of the game

But I don't know how to leave you
And I'll never let you fall
And I don't know how you do it
Making love out of nothing at all

Making love, Out of nothing at all

Everytime I see you all the rays of the sun
Are streaming through the waves in your hair
And every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes
Like a spotlight

The beating of my heart is a drum and it's lost
And it's looking for a rhythm like you
You can take the darkness from the pit of the night
And turn into a beacon burning endlessly bright

I've gotta follow it 'cause everything I know
Well it's nothing till I give it to you

I can make the runner stumble
I can make the final block
And I can make every tackle at the sound of the whistle
I can make all the stadiums rock
I can make tonight forever
Or I can make it disappear by the dawn
I can make you every promise that has ever been made
I can make all your demons be gone

But I'm never gonna make it without you
Do you really want to see me crawl
And I'm never gonna make it like you do
Making love out of nothing at all

Making love, Out of nothing at all
Making love, Out of nothing at all

_
making luv out of nothing at all
by air supply.

2008-03-05T03:49:00.000-08:00

woh khatum qaid ki mayaad bhi nahe kerta
magar mei zehmat-e-faryaad bhi nahe kerta
kabhi kabhi woh mujhe itna yaad aata hai faraz
mei zidd mein aa kay ussay yaad bhi nahe kerta`

....

2008-01-12T17:33:00.000-08:00

Under The Net ..
then the silence closed upon me.

i have been gone a while, i know.

but i think everything in life comes with an expiry date... and so does this blog. i think.

still not sure where the roads lead to, but ..

i might be back.

meanwhile, i'll be somewhere.. near there.

~ Dear 2008,
don't make me have to kick you. If you behave the way 2007 did i swear to Jesus i will kick you to the tacoma.

17:08

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
[Download tere janay kay baad -Shafqat Amanat Ali (OST: tere janay kay baad)]
[Download Punjab -Claude Challe & Ravin]

Ps. you'll need a coolgoose/cooltoad username with a passcode to download these tracks.

2008-01-12T15:22:00.000-08:00

Ntozake Shange/For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf

Without any assistance or guidance from you, I have loved you assiduously for
8 months, 2 weeks, and a day. I have been stood up four times. I've left seven
packages on your doorstep, forty poems, 2 plants and 3 handmade notecards. I
left town so I could send to you. You have been no help to me on my job. You
call at 3:00 in the morning on weekdays so I could drive across the bay before I
go to work.

charmin.

charmin.

but you are of no assistance. I want you to know this was an experiment. To see
how selfish I could be. If I would really carry on to share a possible lover. If
I was capable of debasin myself for the love of another. If I could stand not
being wanted when I wanted to be wanted.

And I cannot.

So

with no further assistance and no guidance from you
I am ending this affair."

2008-01-12T15:02:00.000-08:00

A Supermarket in California
Allen Ginsberg

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families
shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the
avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what
were you doing down by the watermelons?

I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our
solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
delicacy, and never passing the cashier.

Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in
an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The
trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be
lonely.

Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

Berkeley, 1955

2008-01-12T04:42:00.000-08:00

excerpt from Manifesta -
Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards

"After ladies loosen up around the table, Mary Magdalene would begin by talking about sex workers' rights, and returning belly dancing to its origin as an exercise for giving birth. Leah and Rachel would resolve their longtime sisterly competition by ditching Jacob, the man their father married them both to, and agitate for women to be able to inherit their own property. Rather than being synonymous with evil, Jezebel would be lauded for her business acumen. Hagar would receive palimony and child support from her lover, Abraham. Sarah, Abraham's wife, might even befriend Hagar, Abraham's concubine and Sarah's slave; at the very least, she would empathize. Bathsheba, tired of looking for love from a poetic boy who couldn't commit, would have presence of mind to leave Kind David. Delilah would teach them about orgasm and exhort her friends to make sure they got what they needed in bed. Lilith would be full of first wives' club advice for Eve, and Eve would be pontificating about the politics of housework. Eve would also recognize that she had been framed, and refuse to take the Fall for her man or her God. Ruth wouldn't be saying "Whither thou goest, I will go" to her mother-in-law or anyone anymore; she'd be blazing her own trails..."

2008-01-11T06:24:00.000-08:00

Dream is not what you see in your sleep;
it is, what does not let you sleep.

Dream Big!

2008-01-11T02:36:00.000-08:00

Comments of the day..

the_xjester (1/10/2008 1:22:42 AM): wow, that is one long paradox, i mean poem. im afraid i got lost somwhere to grasp the meaning, poetry does tend to do that to mE. and well thanks for stopping by, so this being the eulogy of your uncaring means that uncaring is dead and let the caring begin ?

2008-01-11T02:10:00.000-08:00

At least once every human should have to run for his life, to teach him that milk does not come from supermarkets, that safety does not come from policemen, that "news" is not something that happens to other people. He might learn how his ancestors lived and that he himself is no different - in the crunch his life depends on his agility, alertness, and personal resourcefulness.

- Robert Heinlein - The Number of the Beast

2008-01-11T01:56:00.000-08:00

Love opened a mortal wound.
In agony, I worked the blade
to make it deeper. Please,
I begged, let death come quick.
Wild, distracted, sick,
I counted, counted
all the ways love hurt me.
One life, I thought—a thousand deaths.
Blow after blow, my heart
couldn't survive this beating.
Then—how can I explain it?—
I came to my senses. I said,
Why do I suffer? What lover
ever had so much pleasure

—Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

2008-01-07T19:06:00.000-08:00

Being with you or without you
is how i measure my time.

love is a Parallax
by Sylvia Plath

'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy:
train tracks always meet, not here, but only
in the impossible mind's eye;
horizons beat a retreat as we embark
on sophist seas to overtake that mark
where wave pretends to drench real sky.'

'Well then, if we agree, it is not odd
that one man's devil is another's god
or that the solar spectrum is
a multitude of shaded grays; suspense
on the quicksands of ambivalence
is our life's whole nemesis.

So we could rave on, darling, you and I,
until the stars tick out a lullaby
about each cosmic pro and con;
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic jargon, but clock hands that move
implacably from twelve to one.

We raise our arguments like sitting ducks
to knock them down with logic or with luck
and contradict ourselves for fun;
the waitress holds our coats and we put on
the raw wind like a scarf; love is a faun
who insists his playmates run.

Now you, my intellectual leprechaun,
would have me swallow the entire sun
like an enormous oyster, down
the ocean in one gulp: you say a mark
of comet hara-kiri through the dark
should inflame the sleeping town.

So kiss: the drunks upon the curb and dames
in dubious doorways forget their monday names,
caper with candles in their heads;
the leaves applaud, and santa claus flies in
scattering candy from a zeppelin,
playing his prodigal charades.

The moon leans down to took; the tilting fish
in the rare river wink and laugh; we lavish
blessings right and left and cry
hello, and then hello again in deaf
churchyard ears until the starlit stiff
graves all carol in reply.

Now kiss again: till our strict father leans
to call for curtain on our thousand scenes;
brazen actors mock at him,
multiply pink harlequins and sing
in gay ventriloquy from wing to wing
while footlights flare and houselights dim.

Tell now, we taunq where black or white begins
and separate the flutes from violins:
the algebra of absolutes
explodes in a kaleidoscope of shapes
that jar, while each polemic jackanapes
joins his enemies' recruits.

The paradox is that 'the play's the thing':
though prima donna pouts and critic stings,
there burns throughout the line of words,
the cultivated act, a fierce brief fusion
which dreamers call real, and realists, illusion:
an insight like the flight of birds:

Arrows that lacerate the sky, while knowing
the secret of their ecstasy's in going;
some day, moving, one will drop,
and, dropping, die, to trace a wound that heals
only to reopen as flesh congeals:
cycling phoenix never stops.

So we shall walk barefoot on walnut shells
of withered worlds, and stamp out puny hells
and heavens till the spirits squeak
surrender: to build our bed as high as jack's
bold beanstalk; lie and love till sharp scythe hacks
away our rationed days and weeks.

Then jet the blue tent topple, stars rain down,
and god or void appall us till we drown
in our own tears: today we start
to pay the piper with each breath, yet love
knows not of death nor calculus above
the simple sum of heart plus heart.

2008-01-07T16:22:00.000-08:00

Smack
by Melvin Burgess

"It was just a moment we had together. I mean, he was a really special person to me, but...I just felt that someone could come along and blow hard and I'd fly away from him, go in the wind and end up...next door or on another planet with someone else, anywhere. Just because the wind blew."

"I guess I'm not all that interested in niceness. Sometimes people call me nice but that's just because I can make them feel happy. Inside, I just want to have a good time, enjoy myself. I expect I'll get found out one day."

"Sometimes when we were standing behind the breakers with the crowd, he'd hold me so tight, I'd think he's not just holding me, he's holding ONTO Me, like I'm stopping him from falling off."

"People are always talking about love like it's something every day. People say they love their parents, but what does that mean? Not exactly intoxicating is it? I hate mine sometimes but I don't suppose I feel any less for them than anyone else. All I know is this: if there is such a thing as being in love, I may not be there yet, but when I do I'm going to be INFATUATED.
All over the place.
I'll do anything for him.
You name it.
Whatever.
But in the meantime, I intend to make the most of my freedom."

"It all fell to bits pretty quickly after he left. I thought I was holding the whole thing together. Apparently he thought it was him. People hang onto situations. You think you ARE the situation. Then, when the whole bloody thing falls apart....you are still there."

2008-01-01T17:27:00.000-08:00

Wish You A Happy New Year ♥ ... yellowlane. :)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
[Download (zipped in .wma format) maa - shankar mahadevan]
-exclusively dedicated to xulfee bhai....
just a way how i felt, missed, prayed n shrieked for you last night.

[download (in .rm format) maa - shankar mahadevan (OST: Taare zameen per)]
[download yaad aye woh din -OST: Stranger]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
[i sway o're piya - rahat fateh ali khan (ost: aaja nachle)]
[i stray ]

the best thing is believing in something you can't see but know it's real because you can feel it. i have faith in Him. i don't know if there is anything better. save me. save my country. will You? :)

Everyone Have a Great New Year!!!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thought of the day.... have you ever felt like how you came to be the person you see in the mirror?

i used to think i knew who i was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dance, Recover, Repeat

"Words: Sometimes words aren't enough. In terms of describing a particular emotion or even thought, most words don't seem... adequate. For example, the things we refer to as "attraction" or "fear" or "love," we only do so because those words happen to be the most convenient. There are too many colours and textures and subtleites attached to those concepts to call them by their real names, because when it comes down to it I don't think they even have real names.

Emotions are like those giant sea creatures you read about -- prehistoric squid living miles and miles below the ocean surface, the kind that no human has ever laid eyes on. We know they're there, even though we don't know what they look like or how to describe them--that's why we don't give them names. We can't."

Alasdair Duncan

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Black Art
Anne Sexton

A woman who writes feels too much,
those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands
weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips
and vegetables were never enough.
She thinks she can warn the stars.
A writer is essentially a spy.
Dear love, I am that girl.

A man who writes knows too much,
such spells and fetiches!
As if erections and congresses and products
weren't enough; as if machines and galleons
and wars were never enough.
With used furniture he makes a tree.
A writer is essentially a crook.
Dear love, you are that man.

Never loving ourselves,
hating even our shoes and our hats,
we love each other, precious, precious.
Our hands are light blue and gentle.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
But when we marry,
the children leave in disgust.
There is too much food and no one left over
to eat up all the weird abundance.

2007-12-31T04:34:00.000-08:00

Connor: I'm a cowboy!
Me: On a steel horse you ride.
Connor: Do you want me?
Me: Dead or alive, baby. Dead or alive.

(Ed. note: I would greatly prefer "alive," but was keeping with the Bon Jovi theme.)

_
Stolen

2007-12-30T04:37:00.000-08:00

[mood silent]

[listening to my comfort remains -(night songs) nusrat fateh ali khan with michael brooks]

and she likes it when you write about her, ha. everyone does you know. good, bad, irrelevant. everyone want to be known, we want to be acknowledged in some manner.

_
and she wish you took her seriously when she said she wanted to spend at least awhile with you.

04:55a

2007-12-30T02:54:00.000-08:00

Ziggy's December ... :)

2007-12-30T02:15:00.000-08:00

Thought of the day..

was happy but happy is an adult word. You don't have to ask a child about happy, you see it. They are or they are not. Adults talk about being happy because largely they are not. Talking about it is the same as trying to catch the wind. Much easier to let it blow all over you. This is where I disagree with the philosophers. They talk about passionate things but there is no passion in them. Never talk happiness with a philosopher.

The Passion - Jeanette Winterson

2007-12-30T02:12:00.000-08:00

Fear of Flying
Erica Jong

P174
Any system was a straitjaceket if you insisted on adhering to it so totally and humorlessly. I didn't believe in systems. Everything human was imperfect and ultimately absurd. What did I believe in then? In humor. In laughing at systems, at people, at one's self. In laughing even at one's own need to laugh all the time. In seeing life as contradictory, many-sided, various, funny, tragic, and with moments of outrageous beauty.

P232
"You're not a secretary; you're a poet. What makes you think your life is going to be uncomplicated? What makes you think you can avoid all conflict? What makes you think you can avoid pain? Or passion? There's something to be said for passion. Can't you ever allow yourself and forgive yourself?"

P395
Why should a bad marriage have been so much more compelling than no marriage? Why had I clung to my misery so? Why did I believe it was all I had?
As I read the notebook, I began to be drawn into it as into a novel. I almost began to forget that I had written it. And then a curious revelation started to dawn. I stopped blaming myself; it was that simple. Perhaps my finally running away was not due to malice on my part, nor to any disloyalty I need to apologize for. Perhaps it was a kind of loyalty to myself. A drastic but necessary way of changing my life.
You did not have to apologize for wanting to own your own soul. Your soul belonged to you--for better or worse. When all was said and done, it was all you had.

2007-12-30T02:01:00.000-08:00

this is my december
this is my time of the year
this is my december
this is all so clear

this is my december
this is my snow covered home
this is my december
this is me alone

and i
just wish that i didnt feel
like there was something i missed
and i
take back all the things i said
to make you feel like that
and i
just wish that i didnt feel
like there was something i missed
and i
take back all the things that i said to you

and i give it all away
just to have somewhere to go to
give it all away
to have someone to come home to

this is my december
these are my snow covered dreams

this is me pretending
this is all i need

and i
just wish that i didnt feel
like there was something i missed
and i
take back all the things i said
to make you feel like that
and i
just wish that i didnt feel
like there was something i missed
and i
take back all the things that i said to you

this is my december
this is my time of the year
this is my december
this is all so clear

and i give it all away
just to have somewhere to go to
give it all away
to have someone to come home to

_
Linkin Park My December Lyrics

2007-12-29T04:49:00.000-08:00

what a fcuking bad year for the country -

_
i wish i knew better ways to deal with my anger issues besides hurting myself...

not cutting... more like biting, hair pulling, skin ripping... etc .. :/

lets kickkkk n pushhh n coasssst.

2007-12-26T03:20:00.000-08:00

[im feeling cold ]
[listening to dasht-e-tanhai -iqbal bano]

dear personthatdoesntexist,
my bed is too big. come and lie down beside me and talk? at least for a little bit?

dear world,
lighten the fcuk up.

2007-12-26T03:03:00.000-08:00

Yes, a dandelion
because they are the flower
of wishes. You blow that ball
of seeds and the wind carries them to the one
assigned to grant or reject.
And it's a good thing
that it's the dandelions
who have this power
because they are tough
and sometimes you have to be tough
to even remember
that you have any desires left at all,
to believe that even one
could be satisfied, would not turn
to an example of
"be careful what you wish for,
it might come true."
Maybe that's exactly why
there are so many of them -
the universe gives us extra chances
to keep dreaming.
Each one an uprising,
a burst of color
in the cracks of our hearts,
sunrise
at an unexpected time,
in an unexpected place.

-Ellie Schoenfeld,
"Lucien's Birthday Poem"

2007-12-26T02:13:00.000-08:00

Quote of the day..

The imperfection of languages consist in their plurality, the supreme one is lacking: thinking is writing without accessories or even whispering, the immortal world still remains silent; the diversity of idioms on earth prevents everybody from uttering the words which otherwise, at one single stroke, would materialize as truth.

-Mallarmé

2007-12-26T01:40:00.000-08:00

Fwded email of the day..
by saadia syed :)
_

2007-12-24T04:31:00.000-08:00

nazrein kahin, dil hai kahin
buntay ho bay'ganay ..
sub kuch hai per,, kuch bhi nahe
tunha hain yeh raahein ...

waada koi poora nahe,
yehi wafa hai kya? ..
souchon mein gum rehti ho tum
yehi saza hai kya? ..
nahe hai yeh pyaar .... jana

nahe hai yeh pyaar ....

________________
[download nahe hai yeh pyaar -haroon]
[download bin tum -OST: dus kahaniyaan]

2007-12-24T03:27:00.000-08:00

[i stray lay's french cheese]
[i sway budnaam -aamir zaki]

The whales likes to touch ..
i just realized i cant go back further than the beginning of december till the end of january. if anything important happened in november or after january 25th, im sorrie message me about it or something.

by the way last night it was pouring outside. :)

oh so tomorrow is Christmas, Quaid's b'day. n most importantly its MIRZA XULFEQAR HUSSAIN aka xulfee bhai's birthday tomorrow. im gonna have a long long day. i guess yea.. well, who knows the little weird me.

_
i miss xulfee bhai
i miss hamster
i miss ayaaz
i miss you _ef
i really do.
really really do.

to all the precious people i met in my life.. all of them have gone now. just between the period of same december n january. i missed you by my side. every bit of my life misses you around. sometimes i still feel incomplete with you.

hehh..these months are the mystery for me. i don't like this translucency of new years in my life.

mei ...jia
5:32a

2007-12-24T02:25:00.000-08:00

Quote of the day...

But I can't say that aloud; I can't tell anyone that I have been waiting for this all my life and that being chosen to wait is the reason I can. If I were able I'd say it. Say make me, remake me. You are free to do it and I am free to let you because look, look. Look where your hands are. Now."

Jazz
Toni Morrison

2007-12-24T02:23:00.000-08:00

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
by Jonathan Safran Foer

"When Dad was tucking me in that night and we were talking about the book, I asked if he could think of a solution to that problem.
"Which problem?"
"The problem of how relatively insignificant we are." He said,
"Well, what would happen if a plane dropped you in the middle of the Sahara Desert and you picked up a single grain of sand with tweezers and moved it one millimeter?" I said,
"I'd probably die of dehydration." He said,
"I just mean right then, when you moved that single grain of sand. What would that mean?" I said,
"I dunno, what?" He said,
"Think about it." I thought about it.
"I guess I would have moved one grain of sand." "Which would mean?"
"Which would mean I moved a grain of sand?"
"Which would mean you changed the Sahara."
"So?"
"So? So the Sahara is a vast desert. And it has existed for millions of years. And you changed it!"
"That's true!" I said, sitting up.
"I changed the Sahara!" "Which means?" he said.
"What? Tell me."
"Well I'm not talking about painting the Mona Lisa or curing cancer. I'm just talking about moving that one grain of sand one millimeter."
"Yeah?"
"If you hadn't done it, human history would have been one way..."
"Uh-huh?"
"But you did do it, so...?"
I stood on the bed, pointing one of my fingers at the fake stars, and screamed: "I changed the course of human history!"
"That's right."
"I changed the universe!" "You did." "I'm God!" "You're an atheist." "I don't exist!" I feel back onto the bed, into his arms, and we cracked up together."

2007-12-19T02:30:00.000-08:00

Pardon?!! please ..

Gulgee and his wife found murdered in his own house??????!!!!!
his body was found in bedroom, wife's in kitchen and the maid's body in main hall???!

huhhh .......

_______________________________________

2007-12-18T04:41:00.000-08:00

untitled.
inside a bubble
by coldplay.

2007-12-18T03:09:00.000-08:00

Y o u*W h o*N e v e r*A r r i v e d
by: Rainer Maria Rilke
(Translated from the German)

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt
landscape, cities, towers, and bridges, and
unsuspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and,
startled, gave back my too-sudden image.
Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...

2007-12-17T05:23:00.000-08:00

[music my own prison -creed]
[mood you dont need to know]

i often wonder, how many of us are aware of our true blueprint?
Palpitating. my hyperactive self refused to take this longer. so here i am, again.

well... so this has been happening to me for the past couple of weeks. i would be in the middle of something... a party, a gathering, in a car, in the street..on the phone ... and i would find myself completely dissociated from my surroundings. it is like, i suddenly wont hear the noise anymore, and also perhaps loose my vision of whats going on... it feels like i am walking around inside an air bubble and i am completely cut off from the rest of the world.

on the other note... yesterday i found myself walking without the brace in my room. n now im experiencing a great pain in my right knee. n it is the pain that showed me the true color of life. can't i just change my body with poor somebody? mujhay pain se problem nahe hai. problem yeh hai kay itni choti se cheez se problem kyun ho rahi hai? ..

i wish my life were carefree n spontaneous.
do you understand - or am i being a bad friend?
what? me? bitter?? nah.

_
okie check out the ~~letter~~ luv letter our servant wrote for his girlfriend. :D

[Stolen: by jia]
05:45a

2007-12-17T05:19:00.000-08:00

labo'n per harf na koi sawal rakhta tha
kabhi mei zabt mein itna kamaal rakhta tha
khabar kya thi mujhay hee woh bhool jaiga
ek ek cheez jo meri sunbhaal rakhta tha...

bichartay waqt bazahir tou kuch na bola magar
nigah se sou sou sawaal rakhta tha ....
suna hai loug ussay ab buhat satatay hain
jis ek shaks ka mei itna khayal rakhta tha`

2007-12-17T05:09:00.000-08:00

Pandora
by Anne Rice

Not twenty minutes has passed since you left me here in the café, since I said No to your request, that I would never write out for you the story of my mortal life, how I became a vampire - how I came upon Marius only years after he had lost his human life.

Now here I am with your notebook open, using one of the sharp pointed eternal ink pens you left me, delighted at the sensuous press of the black ink into the expensive and flawless white paper.
Naturally, David, you would leave me something elegant, an inviting page. This notebook bound in dark varnished leather, is it not, tooled with a design of rich roses, thornless, yet leafy, a design that means only Design in the final analysis but bespeaks an authority. What is written beneath this heavy and handsome book cover will count, sayeth this cover.

I am thinking about your request in writing. You see you will get someting from me. I find myself yielding to it, alsmost as one of our human victims yield to us. I reach now for a victim who is not easy for me to overcome: my own past. I seek now a victim that I have never faced. And there is the thrill of the hunt in it. Why else would I see those times so vividly now? You had no magic potion to give me to loosen my thoughts. There is but one potion for us and it is blood.

How could you have kindled in me this longing to go back, two thousand years, almost exactly - to tell of my mortal days on Earth in Rome, and how I joined Marius, and what little chance he had against Fate. How could origins so deeply buried and so long denied suddenly beckon to me. A door snaps open. A light shines. Come in.

2007-12-15T03:55:00.000-08:00

mairah with jia pia tia..

[dated: dec 16 '07 -18: something]

2007-12-15T02:27:00.000-08:00

[i stray luved ]
[i sway o re piya -aaja nachle (OST)]
[donwload]

that for the first time in months i felt happy. And it wasn't the pills.
and you believe in God and i believe in orchestras and you believe in chance and i believe in fate and the birds are singing the same songs.

Peace out.
- that random girl that no one really knew

2:53a

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Realization of the day..

i luv the sound of Fajr's Azaan .. man... it haunts me.

_

2007-12-15T01:16:00.000-08:00

So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one, in the end—not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each other but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall.

-By Brian Doyle
From the AMERICAN SCHOLAR
Winner of the Pushcart Prize 2006

2007-12-15T01:08:00.000-08:00

XLV
I know my mind and I have made my choice;

Not from your temper does my doom depend;

Love me or love me not, you have no voice

In this, which is my portion to the end.

Your presence and your favours, the full part

That you could give, you now can take away:

What lies between your beauty and my heart

Not even you can trouble or betray.

Mistake me not -- unto my inmost core

I do desire your kiss upon my mouth;

They have not craved a cup of water more

That bleach upon the deserts of the south;

Here you might bless me; what you cannot do

Is bow me down, who have been loved by you.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

2007-12-13T02:36:00.000-08:00

maria (my friend) with mahad. awwwe. haha =)

2007-12-13T02:10:00.000-08:00

"Woke up with a full realisation that I had never been human in all my life. By that I mean I never reacted naturally according to my emotions. Of course, it was self-protection, which I rationalised as human: not to hurt others. Cruelty, cheapness, meanness, that is human. Human is evil. Being jealous, indiscreet, possessive, lazy and dependent, exploiting others, that is human. Having compassion and understanding, patience and helping others, all of which is considered human, is ideological goodness. Faithfulness in love is unnatural. Not only god and religion, immortality and morality, is man-made ideology, but love too. The man who acts in reality like a woman - who is a woman following her instincts, he alone is human. It is not because he is evil that the woman likes the "bad man" but because he is natural. It would be more human to throw away all therapy and to be free, not to be bad but to be human, natural. The self-denial which is necessary in order to be good, human, is denial of the bad natural self and is therefore not a sacrifice at all but self-protection, and it is the most selfish thing of all. On the other hand the seeming sacrifice for others is really domination, protection against being too human, and is still giving in to badness by still pretending one is good."

The Diary of Anais Nin,
Volume Two, 1934-1939, Anais Nin

2007-12-13T01:53:00.000-08:00

Shapeshifter
Maureen McQuerry

There is a moment
when the creature seems to disappear.
Nothing remains, but a quivering
in the air, the invisible finger
that runs your ridge of spine

My students ask if it hurts
to become another. We’ve read
the stories of humans furred,
flesh erupting to wings, or scales,
gill-gasp of transformation.

I tell them some are stories of pursuit,
a dove answered with a hawk,
a hare with greyhound as reply.
Pursuer and pursued, their deft dance
that ended once with a grain of corn,
swallowed by a hen who birthed
the storyteller,Taliesin.

But what the students want to know is pain.
That remembered moment when
quills pierce skin, fingernails bleed
to claws. Beyond the window
winter’s first kiss startles the grass with frost.

I tell them yes,
there is always pain at birth or when,
our tent of flesh opens
like a door to the sky,
and something more, you must
lean close to hear
the single note of joy.

2007-12-13T01:43:00.000-08:00

you know yesterday you were there in them. you know that? i know that. but whats the use of it? ... i mean.. kuch nahe. :)

n you thought i don't even know.

2007-12-12T05:25:00.000-08:00

[i stray strange, dazed]
[i sway (xain's selection (: now its playing 'kiss the rain by billie myers]
[download audio]

n you'll keep pretending like it didn't even cross your mind.
yea .

_

2007-12-12T05:00:00.000-08:00

na raha qaatil ko undesha-e-nadamat
na raha mujh mei josh-e-qayamat

ek junoon-e-barish-e-sung uss ko
ek khoon ka numaaeesh-e-rung mujh ko

kis ko daina hay ilzaam-e-tanhai
na huee mayri judayee , tayri ruswayee

_

2007-12-12T03:15:00.000-08:00

He was playing a character I had invented, which is somewhat telling. In desperate love, it's always like this, isn't it? In desperate love, we always invent the characters of our own partners, demanding that they be what we need of them, and then feeling devastated when they refuse to perform the role we created in the first place.

Eat, Pray, Love
by Elizabeth Gilbert

2007-12-11T04:07:00.000-08:00

mujhe bay'khudi yeh tu nay
bhali chaashni chakhaiee` ... :)

the smell of places and people once passed by, the black and white colour of dreams, the words which now echo the being are still so raw.

only time will tell where life is headed now.
but everything is better now and should be good soon.

_
"O my dear you're a threat to the bad we all see
I'm beside myself for the...grace of your eyes that can see good in me
...when they say that I'm just a terrible kite
You'll tell them you're proud of my loveless flight"

2007-12-11T03:50:00.000-08:00

Moula..

Mujhe bay'khudi yeh tu nay, bhali chaashni chakhaie
Kisi aarzo ki dil mein, nahi ab rahi samai
Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay

Na hazar hai nay khatar hai, na reja hai nay dua hai
Na khayal-e-bundagi hai, na tamanna-e-khudai
Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay

Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay, bhali chaashni chakhaie
Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay

Na maqaam-e-guftugu hai, na mehal-e-justuju hai
Na wahan hawaas pohnchein, na khirad ko hai rasai
Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay

Na makeen hai nay makaan hai, na zameen hai nay zabaan hai
Dil-e-benawa nay meray, wahan chawwni hai chayee
Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay

Na visaal hai na hijraan, na suroor hai na gham hai
Jise kaheyay khwab-e-ghaflat, so woh neend mujh ko aayee
Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay

Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu ne, bhali chaasheni chakhaie
Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay

_
Mujhe bekhudi yeh tu nay -Abida Parveen

2007-12-11T02:13:00.000-08:00

APART

As he laid his friend to rest , priests started praying. People started pouring dust on the grave. Slowly people leave , one by one. Talking , whispering – and wondering. As they all left, he will take steps slowly, hoping the journey beyond the gates of graveyard just never starts.

Looking at the faces of those around him he will think many things. Too many questions will illuminate his mind – with no answers insight. Why they conspired to end this poor soul’s life? Why they never tried to know what that little smile wanted? Why they couldn’t let go their own egos? Is it too much to ask from any human to put a smile anyone else? He kept walking with these thoughts in his head till he came across an old man. With curls in his hair , a stick in his hand , the white bearded poor man will just keep walking ignoring the crowd.
‘He mite have an answer’ – he wondered. Walking up to him , he will try to shrug off the idea of letting someone else enter his mind. But, loneliness in a crowd and the pain which it delivers , had the final say.
‘Sir!’, he asked , ‘ can you answer me some questions?’
‘Son , I don’t have any answers. I am finding ones for myself. What can an ignorant person like me enlighten you about?’
‘Tell me, what is love?’ – asked the young man.
‘ Son!’ , replied the old fellow , ‘ Love is when you know , that you don’t know anything. Love is when you wish for , what you will not wish for otherwise. Love is when you go extra mile without tiring at all. Love is when you take a deep dive into yourself while others around you only want to stop you. Love is when you give – and just give.’
Sighed the young man.
‘Tell me sir , I am hungry for love. My soul needs to be nurtured. My heart needs to be fixed. My brain needs to be repaired. Love has deluded me sir. Where shall I find it? Decades have passed now. It has become a holy grail now.’
The old man retorted.
‘ You look for love where? What do you think love is? You think love should heal you? – do you even know what love is?. Let me tell you son. We live in a world of madness. We live because we are asked to live , because we are not given a choice. Now you don’t find love out there , you find it in you. Once you find it in you , you look for a human to cross match. Humans come in all shapes and sizes. Its not an easy journey my friend. It will not be a smooth sailing. But when you find someone whom you think is worth your love. Dump all your love in their hearts. They will take it , but slowly. Love demands patience. Love demands perseverance. Love demands sacrifice. Love demands selflessness. This is what love is. This is what you should yearn for’.
‘You know who is there in that grave?” – pointed the young man to the grave.
‘I dumped my love there. In this cemetery of hopes, I have dug another grave. Another grave, that will remind me that I need love. And these people you watched walking slowly , they are the ones who conspired against it.’

Old man holds his hand and takes him to the grave. Takes shovel and starts digging the grave.

‘Why are you doing this? Let it stay inside’ – he yelled.
Without paying attention to the young man , he kept digging. Till he came across a body , which seemed familiar to him.
‘This is your twin brother?’ – asked the old man astonishingly.
‘No’ , replied the young man , ‘ This is my other half. A half, which wanted to live a secluded life. I buried him , because this is what was right for him.’
‘Do you see this grave?’ – the old man showed him the grave right along side young man’s grave.
‘ this is my other half. We all live like this’ , wondered the old man, ‘ Killing our selves. Rejecting ourselves ideas which can lead us to different plateaus. We all suffer at the hands of our fears. Letting them be our guides. We suffer and suffer till we just become cynical of life , love and relationships. I have suffered the same way but I must tell you. Keep your other half alive. You just never know when you get what you keep looking for throughout your life. You just never know in what shape or form you get it. Stick to what you believe in son , take this better half out and keep it with you. Predators only are predators because they are persistent and they are patient. Be one , before you become a prey.’

While the old man sits beside his gave , the young man takes his buried half out and starts walking away.

Old man looks back and says ,
‘Remember my stranger, never quit on any idea. No matter how difficult or impossible it is. Be like a stream of water, which when flows knows no boundaries. Which when is blocked , finds other routes. This is what love is. Finding and making your own way. Good luck & Good bye.’

Mir.

2007-12-10T02:08:00.000-08:00

w.w pecker by ~faizan on deviant ART

2007-12-09T18:45:00.000-08:00

[mood ]
[music to my ears aa chal kay tujhe -kishore kumar]

when all i wanted was a hug.

18:45

2007-12-09T18:16:00.001-08:00

I found the answers in my room.

Roof said: Aim high
Fan said: Be cool
Clock said: Every min. is precious
Mirror said: Reflect before you act
Window said: See the world
Calender said: Be up-to-date
Door said: Push hard to achieve ur goals.

_
Stolen: from some unknown scrapbook.

2007-12-07T03:35:00.000-08:00

echo persuades us.
the sky turned pink and then purple and then sun went to bed.

i mean - its not like im holding out. i want everything - everyone. like, im not impatient about it. i have faith in it. in luv. im being vague. thats okie. no, you dont need to know exactly what im talking about.

my throat hurts n its full of mucus. talk to me on the phone n you'll know what im talking about. haha

well im not going to lie - i really miss hamster. but at least - well, it's not in that desperate i-need-him-right-now way. just a 'oh-sigh way. less urgent and anxious filled. all in all though, no denying, i miss him. please talk to me. i really want to know how are you doing these days? ... i really want to know if you re alright? ..

its kind of.... disturbing. im... a creepster. for real. a true loner. to the core. i have problems. i just wish i knew what they were.

ironically, this post has a lot of backspaces in it. such is life.

i want to take a hot shower, a panadol, tranquilizer,multivitamin, cup of milk. lie in bed and sleep. leave me alone. n don't leave sms/msgs when im sleeping.

bye.. beautiful. (: muah.

[listenin to koi janay na -ahmed jahanzeb ~ n gowd..im just luving listening to it!]

3:35a

2007-12-07T03:11:00.000-08:00

Quote of the day..

koun milay .. kub milay
yeh na mujhay pata chala hai aaj tuk...
na milnay walay ko.

khurram
friday -dec 6

2007-12-07T02:45:00.000-08:00

For One More Day
by Mitch Albom

feel ashamed now that I tried to take my life. It is such a precious thing. I had no one to talk me out of my despair, and that was a mistake. You need to keep people close. You need to give them access to your heart.

As for what happened in the two years since, there are so many details: the hospital stay, the treatment I received, where I've been. Let's just say, for now, that I was lucky on many levels. I'm alive. I didn't kill anyone. I have been sober every day since -- although some days are harder than others.

I've thought a lot about that night. I believe my mother saved my life. I also believe that parents, if they love you, will hold you up safely, above their swirling waters, and sometimes that means you'll never know what they endured, and you may treat them unkindly, in a way you otherwise wouldn't.

But there's a story behind everything. How a picture go on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begins.

So this was my mother's story.

And mine.

I would like to make things right again with those I love.

2007-12-07T01:38:00.000-08:00

i am tiger.. hear me roar .....

awww mere paas aa jao ek baar!!! (})))!
jia luves you like ...... ah :/

courtesy: news.uk.msn.com/rare-tiger-cub.

2007-12-06T04:46:00.000-08:00

that we're all the same
in different locations
with different situations
but they're all the same
because i love and you love and he cries and she worries
and your stomach grumbles

and my eyes are teary
and i'm beautiful
because you are
and so is the
mirror that reflects him into her and me into you
and i wish i could feel
like this forever.

2007-12-05T15:46:00.000-08:00

In my place - coldplay

2007-12-03T04:27:00.000-08:00

well now,

i suppose silence works best.

i'll just hide here in this little corner.

n look.

n you won't even know im here.

-
For aren't you and i gods?...
i sense in my blood the rotation of unexplorable universes. ...

im mildly emo, n i wish night to come soon. i don't know why.

winter makes me sad n cold (which i dislike). my skin dries out. nails become thick n my cheeks... :/ i wish december n january 25th would end soon. i have been interacting with new n random people lately, which i never appreciated in my life. ah, these artificial lines n trying speaking a good english, making your urdu stances appropriate for strangers..sucks. i hate artificialize myself.

one day i want to wake up with a husband n two baby boys. a ghar n a handsome dog barking outside the door.. zor zor se wali chirping of the finches n a pair of beeeautiful crows sitting on my bedrooms balcony. n ofcourse a perfect body. i think most of my mental ailment starts from here..the feeling of being different from the majority of the world is like...it shreds the little me. almost everyday. most of my study plans fails just because of that. n i hate thinking of myself being so illiterate when i always wanted to soar so high high high.. curse it la . ...but life still is not that bad yar. i should smile more. becasue i have dreams. because i still dreams beautiful. becasue i still wish to mend this very small part of my life. i never asked Allah to change the entire scenery or to change me into someone else. chaliye Allah mia You change my spine n i'll bring rest of the happiness n success myself. i, atleast, want to give it a try.

everything is flying. everything is screaming, choking on its screams. laughter. running. let down hair. that is all there is to life.`

_
Per kya sub kuch kabhi budlay ga bhi? ... :)

_
guzree mud'daton ka sawal
na mayra tarz-e-bay'kamal
na tayra tarz-e-ba'kamal
raha main bun kay khud ik sawal

[the above stanza is stolen from Mir's tranquil-nights`]

[jia sway mei agar kahon -sonu nigam (OST: om shanti om)]
[jia stray .. mundane]

17:12

2007-12-03T04:00:00.001-08:00

"The Favourite Game"

"When you call me close
to tell me
your body is not beautiful
I want to summon
the eyes and hidden mouths
of stone of light of water
to testify against you

When you call me close
to tell me
your body is not beautiful
I want my body and my hands
to be pools
for your looking and laughing."

Leonard Cohen

2007-12-03T03:45:00.000-08:00

"To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children. To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends. To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better... to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

-
"...But it gradually seemed to me that I'd made myself believe something that wasn't true. I'd made myself believe that I was fine and happy and fulfilled on my own without the love of anyone else. Being in love was like China: you knew it was there, and no doubt it was very interesting, and some people went there, but I never would. I'd spend all my life without ever going to China, but it wouldn't matter, because there was all the rest of the world to visit... And I thought: am I really going to spend the rest of my life without feeling that again? I thought: I want to go to China. It's full of treasures and strangeness and mysteries and joy."

The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman

2007-12-01T06:02:00.000-08:00

Godspeed, my friend.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
[i stray ]
[i sway maiqaday -hariharan]

download - [left click n scroll down the page]

wafaa kaisi?? kahan ka ishq jub sir phorna tehra?!

60 seconds of silence is more than long.
The world, as a whole, does not care. ford would still pump out cars nobody can afford, wars would go on, and the world would continue to spin. life as we know it would not change. so why does it matter to me so much? no it doesn't. there’s just the life i want versus the life i have. i have realized a funny thing but so true, sleep never make matters better.

good and the bad and the whole truth.. and the truth you tell your friends opposed to the truth you make yourself believe. the friendship is harder to maintain, and apparently often not worth the effort. hate no longer registers on my brain. no more chasing people..... why do i want to go running around trying to chase people who suck at being a friend? it doesn't add up. i know im not supposed to be perfect. i know i know..

anyhow.. dinner n cooking sounds like fun these days.
blogging sucks like ... i don't know why im here.

dear anaar.. i don't know why you do the things you do? :)

_
Contemplating
becasue the one persone who i want to talk to the most is the person that i shouldn't talk to.

how soon i forget.

(see my sad face?)

_
5:14a

2007-12-01T05:55:00.000-08:00

Thought of the day...

call me. my number hasn't changed.
CHEAT ME! MAKE ME FEEL LIKE VOMITING!!

2007-12-01T05:45:00.000-08:00

mere sabar ka na lay imtehaan
meri khamoshi ko sadaa na day

jou tere baghair na jee sakay
ussay jeenay ki tu dua na day

tu azeez dil-o-nazar se hai
tu kareeb rag-o-jaan se hai

mere jism-o-jaa'n ka yeh faisla
kahin waqt aur barha na day

tujay bhool kay na bhula sakoo'n
tujhay chah ker bhi na paa sakoo'n

meri hastaroo'n ko shumaar ker
meri chahatoo'n ko sila na day ..

2007-11-27T05:23:00.000-08:00

CLEMENTINE: Sometimes I think people don't understand how lonely it is to be a kid,
like you don't matter. So, I'm eight, and I have these toys, these dolls.
My favorite is this ugly girl doll who I call Clementine,
and I keep yelling at her, "You can't be ugly! Be pretty!"
It's weird, like if I can transform her, I would magically change, too.

from the movie: Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

2007-11-27T02:57:00.000-08:00

:) ...

I'm standing on a bridge
I'm waitin in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now
Theres nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but theres no sound

Isn't anyone tryin to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Wont you take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I dont know who you are
but I... I'm with you
________________

im looking for a place
searching for a face
is anybody here i know
cause nothings going right
and everythigns a mess
and no one likes to be alone

Isn't anyone tryin to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Wont you take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I dont know who you are
but I... I'm with you

"I'm With You"
I'm Standing on a bridge
I'm waitin in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now
Theres nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but theres no sound

Isn't anyone tryin to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Wont you take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I dont know who you are
but I... I'm with you

im looking for a place
searching for a face
is anybody here i know
cause nothings going right
and everythigns a mess
and no one likes to be alone

Isn't anyone tryin to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home
It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Wont you take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I dont know who you are
but I... I'm with you

oh why is everything so confusing
maybe I'm just out of my mind
yea yea yea

It's a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Wont you take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I dont know who you are
but I... I'm with you

Take me by the hand
take me somewhere new
I dont know who you are
but I... I'm with you
I'm with you

_
im with you by avril lavigne
[dedicated]

2007-11-26T01:51:00.000-08:00

2007-11-26T01:33:00.000-08:00

The Second Child-
Deborah Garrison

I've forgotten so much,
what it felt like back then,
what we said to each other.

but sometimes when I'm standing
at the kitchen counter after dinner
and i look out the window at the dark

thinking of nothing,
something swims up.
Tonight this:

your laughing into my mouth
as you were trying
to kiss me.

2007-11-26T01:27:00.000-08:00

The Love Song
of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

...

I am no prophet -- and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

2007-11-23T05:56:00.000-08:00

[i sway wherever you will go -the calling]

[i stray mmm oh yea today i cooked 'chanay ki daal ka halwa'

ohkie let me take some pictures of it n i'll be back to publish this piece of.. post then. hehh:P]

well heck, it IS the internet.
i feel disconnected with.

i kept writing in all these days.. was just saving my venoms in form of drafts. i kept saving my favourite piece of verses, sestinas..lyrics. i kept collecting those excerpts. hmm blogger offers a range of options. Options' that my life never offers me.

blah blah blah.. just bitching about the same old things i guess, not worth writing about. i can't tell how much i cringe while reading some of these posts. they are bad, i know. they make me want to delete delete delete. but dont worry dear non-existent readers n my darling yellowlane, i won't do so. i'll keep my horribly written n poorly constructed writings for all of the world..for generations n generations to come. maybe one day, long after i'm gone, people will uncover these posts and some of them may attempt to understand just what the fcuk was wrong with me.... maybe you're one of those people.

oh well, yea, i suppose i'll finish it some day. but before that i have more than chapters to give! you just stay with me. tell me you just STILL luves me.

in all the past few days.. i was not dead, and probably wont' be for a good long while. just thought YOU might want to know that. im completely contented. thats just a way of my incoherent writings. don't mind.

2007-11-23T05:15:00.000-08:00

What type of Fae are you?

2007-11-23T03:38:00.000-08:00

"He's had a near-death experience!"
"We all have. It's called Living."

-

Worlds of belief, she thought. Just like oysters. A little piece of shit gets in and then a pearl grows up around it.

-

YOU COULDN'T RESIST IT? IN THE END? A MISTAKE, I FANCY.
IT GETS UNDER YOUR SKIN, LIFE. Said Death, stepping forward. SPEAKING METAPHORICALLY, OF COURSE. IT'S A HABIT THAT'S HARD TO GIVE UP. ONE PUFF OF BREATH IS NEVER ENOUGH. YOU'LL FIND YOU WANT TO TAKE ANOTHER.
AND, YOU SEE, THE MORE YOU STRUGGLE FOR EVERY MOMENT, THE MORE ALIVE YOU STAY...WHICH IS WHERE I COME IN, AS A MATTER OF FACT.
FEAR, TOO, IS AN ANCHOR, said Death, ALL THOSE SENSES, WIDE OPEN TO EVERY FRAGMENT OF THE WORLD.
THAT BEATING HEART. THAT RUSH OF BLOOD. AN YOU NOT FEEL IT, DRAGGING YOU BACK?

Hogfather, Terry Pratchett

2007-11-23T02:21:00.000-08:00

“Do you still dream of that night?”

Not father in my dreams anymore
but Shahrukh Kahn in that movie,
manly face pinched by that half-pout,

cute as the son whose entreaties
would make his mother
or any woman smile, Shahrukh Kahn

teasing a laugh out from the neighbour’s
daughter whom he loves.
Mr Devdas in my bed and not

father upon me, whispering:
Don’t worry, don’t move, this won’t
hurt, ok? No longer

that initial horror, but simply
shock dissipating
quickly into pleasure, an echo

of love numbing the mind, occluding
shame. The first time, I remember,
I failed to cry, because as far

as I could see, that night,
there was no cause, only
a car’s passing headlight

piercing the unmetaphorical
dark of a boy’s bedroom.
A curious hunger

spent, balled up in tissue paper
he forgot to discard, left on the floor,
the smell of it

staining the air, the present, and
future remembrances
of those long, wakeful hours. Not

Shahrukh, but father
cleaning me up now, his face
crumpled by that grimace,

a constant hiss between his teeth,
rubbing tissue across my stomach,
his hand a wet clamp on my thigh.

Not even mummy, ok?
And not any of your friends...
Look at me on the bed,

this boy stripped of sleep, under
a man who insisted he loved him
again and again

till there was no choice but to feel it
surge from the centre of him,
springing free like an animal out of a fire.

- Cyril Wong (Copyright 2007)

2007-11-19T03:29:00.000-08:00

tere harf-o-lub ka tilsam tha `meri aab-o-taab mein reh gaya
woh kisi gulaab ka jism tha `jo meri kitaab mein reh gaya

meri baat baat mein roshni `mere harf harf mein dilkashi
tu mere shareek-e-visaal-e-jaan `meri her kitaab mein reh gaya

koi phool khil kay bikhar gaya `koi baat bun ker bigar gyee
na sawaaal koi laboo'n pe hai `na gila jawaab mein reh gaya

dil-e-khush'gumaan teri khair ho `tu hai phir yaqeen ki salaib per
tujhay phir kisi se shikayatein `tu issi azaab mein reh gaya

tujhay kya mila dil-e-mubtila `na koi dua na kahin wafa
magar ek yersa-e-raigaa'n `jo tere hisaab mein reh gaya

woh jo mera ehd-e-jamaal tha `woh jo mera sheher-e-khayaal tha
kay ab uss ka ziker-e-kamaal bhi `kaheen harf-e-khuwaab mein reh gaya

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