I will return to you

I a forlorn wayfarer have gone far
High above the latitude of gravitational altitude
Of my ever changeable self
The ostentatious glimmer of desires have
Made me cross the bounds of my realm
Demons are on my right and Satan on my left
My east wears a mask while plastered stands my west
I know Beelzebub mutters mantra around my doors
With this saturation
With this evaporation
My body is still not a slave
My Love !! After winning all the wars of my soul
After conquering my desirous zones
Or even if I fail to hold my shards
Or if Ganga of this ephemeral love turned me impure
Or if I lost my identity In the transfixed moment of mortality
I am very much sure
With Blind eyes I will to your country come back

Copyrights reserved to Paras Ali/2016

Take Me to  BAND-e-AMIR

Hold my hand
Take me to the roads which never end
Roiling in the river, I am but a splinter of wood
Or a clipped feather, wafting on the winds
The amber flecks in my grey eyes
A mirage it is, which merely beguiles
For Patience is nothing but a town set on illusions
A thorn is lodged in my nostrils
I suffocate inside the bait
Blow me a kiss of life
Teach me ways to breathe
The Thunderbolts are sickening
The thud of starts rip my balance apart
Help me catch the glare of Nowroze
My immortal colours are still inside the Aluminium urn
Take hold of me
Let me hear my bones crack
Let me feel the flesh of my own knuckles
Take me to the cherubic tides of Band-e-Amir
Baptise my mermaid self
Turn me nothing
 but a living Human

Copyrights Reserved to Paras Ali/2016

Do you Do the Same?

In my hours of idleness I often draw your sketch
I wonder ,Do you also do the way I do?
I imagine brown prancing heels of fairy-tale Lamas
Decoring sliver hues around your hair
I see you in the breath of sun
Snuffing out the dusk's tallow pots turn by turn
I stroke your silhouette with juicy dews of Peepul tree
I colour you with the saliva of waterfalls, picturing you asleep
From the fleecy bubbles of tangerine summer
From the pied toned flock of fluttering feathers
I try to gather , the ways you Lisp, the way the words you utter
I wish to see how with the ink of moonlight you scribble
Stars on the sea of your tears, devoid of slightest ripple
I draw you often from the brush dipped in those words 
Which you only wrote, to let you know I read each bit of yours
I like to keep you with in me imprisoned
As a slender necked crystal flask cages the last wine-drop in its imaginations
In my hours of idleness I often draw your sketch
I wonder Do you do the way I do?

Copy rights reserved to Paras Ali/2016

                  I swear by the book..!

( copyrights reserved  to very talented friend of mine +khadija Amjad and Paras Ali/2016)

I wriggled my finger-tips over its apparently hard forehead and mildly sniffed in its balmy fragrance to subdue each droplet of myself in its commandingly authoritative aura. It asked: “Would You Bear me like an uncut Kundun in your Soul? Would you mind deluge yourself in my reflection? Answering none of the questions I gave a leathery blow of my boggling lashes to its subtle cheeks and planted a quick kiss to brush away its anguish and turmoil. I switched off the hurricane lanterns and slammed shut all the torches of the candles to let it know how hardly I felt its displeasure. I was cocksure I have vowed without words and bricked its trust on me. Flooded with ethereal radiance and intoxicated in shimmering self-assurance, I mapped the euphoria of last night orgasm inside my Kohl. I walked an astute gait leaving behind prudent foot prints as I was carrying with in me a sturdy promise towards it; the promise of being different from rest of the world
Does life ever give you an opportunity to prove oneself? I assume yes....
I progressed down a lane behind the thickets of a bamboo tree and found the whiskers of the grass thatched with tinges of fresh human blood and the pages of the area fully stencilled with acidic scent of screeching tears of some bleating human. I rushed towards the tree and saw he has been hanged topsy-turvy like a clipped owl over the trunk. His wounds split tsunami of blood and his eyes narrated the story of butchery, inviting clan of mosquitoes, centipedes, beetles, fireflies, spiders and ants. Like a gutless fraidy-cat having a weak chicken's heart, I escaped. I could sense he was still alive even then I disappeared.
I a commoner cannot deny that during uncountable foray into hallucinating visions created by amalgamation of words, ideas, notions into a heady mix, one just cannot come to deny that for a moment howsoever fleeting, one in completely consumed by an insatiable urge to step into the shoes of the character we associate ourselves with, which surreptitiously hold us captive. In our solitary moments of unceasing contemplations, we swear to stand out and be different. But hardened is the incorrigible soul, and our resolve has feet of clay, crumbling and perishable! Ideas germinating in the crucible of mind, stirred into activity, die a sudden abominable death, when faced with situation. Our innards bustling with a crescending clamour for self-change bites dust and the fortress of changelessness is never breached, quelling the Resurrection

I do not live on Approvals 

Time changed the relations I met in my life. When the steep mountains were throwing me down, I looked for your hand but you were no where. I dived deep to the sea of the world while going against the flow to let you know , I got the guts but you never put your trust on me. The southern sun's heat dried all the vapours with in me , even then you passed like you never knew me. I thrived in front of you like a toddler does to gain momentum in his steps, but each time We crossed roads, you averted your gaze. When acute rejection, pain and trauma was weighing me down, you put more load on my back.
Today, seeing me shining like a diamond, I can measure a thousand hands patting on my back.  My fellow humans , love to change with the intensity of my gravity but my objective is still solid hard: 'What I have become, What I intend to achieve, Its my own Journey . Nor I feed on Approvals neither on Sympathy.'

copyrights reserved to Paras Ali/2016

The Adversity of being grown up

My own Voice echoed back inside the empty rooms
Of my Ostentatious castle of wealthy dreams
Assuring my Soul;
Those crimson wounds who used to weigh me down
Are now unchained and Unbound
Their ghost have flew way from my case
I am now a living  vacuum
The stillness inside me has grown so giant
That a trillion miles meter long Earth
Excuses to accommodate my inches small demeanour

Copyrights are reserved to Paras Ali/2016

A Question Mark

Should I incise my granite lips?
Or stab at the clattering diamond teeth
Or should I throw vipers of human disgust over me?
Or you want me to gulp down the hemlock of poison?
Or to weave a pendant of my waiting eyes
Around the jasper ringlet of your neck
Or to chop down each vein of my nerves
Or to cut open the flood gates of my heart
Would you then respond to my Plea?

Copyrights reserved to Paras Ali/2016

I am indeed Born Special

And you ask me what makes me self-assured?
It is indeed the soldier spirit shielding the corners of my brilliant soul. An apparent statue of clay, I was moulded in such unique texture that I survived the blood isle of my mothers womb for nine months. Did not I sparkle all the reasons of hope in my parents eyes? Yes I did ever since I was just a mere clot of blood. The time when a million babies could not make their way to the world, I was asked to do it in a perfect manner. In short I was born, not only born alive, but born with a million best neurons, a pumping heart, erect vertebral column , fine set of eyes and an inspiring pair of ears.
Some higher authority helped me complete my journey of being a crown of creation.
I am Chosen to live beyond imperfections, I have been opted to breathe the carbon rich oxygen. Trials are for me few small scars beaten each night by the full silver Moon of my hopes.

Copyrights Reserved to Paras Ali/2016

A Tribute to my father

( During the grand race towards our wishes, we forget some one silently sells his All self to buy our dreams. With the birth of a child, starts the story of an ultimate sacrifice)

My dear prayer!!!
Borrow few feathers from the hawk
Sue my breath.
Ask on loan the wings unknown
Trade my writings , all I have
Get some lightly laced birdie's body
Make rush, run fast
Request the sun to elongate its hours
Seek for the key
From the treasures of Valkyries
Unlock the scriptures which Prophet Suleman wrote
About the art of flight
About the techniques of reaching heights
My dear prayer make a little haste
Fly to the sky
Above the mansion of clouds
Before the snow flakes turn to Zarkol
And Autumn drills holes inside the mountains
Before the cold zephyr tears apart the leather pockets
Of a zipless hood
Faded from the right
Burnt from the centre
Half bald from the left.
Bow to prostrate
Tell My Allah, reveal this secret
My Father's only  Jacket is elder than his daughter
It can no more protect him from cold


Copyrights Reserved to Paras Ali/2016

A Heavenly Romance

And then it drizzled, the cloudy dews drenched my whole being in the colour of the violet sky. After being left drowned in the scent of rainbow, I learnt it just loves the way I look at it. The subtle vibrations of heavenly wind jolted my frozen senses and then i learnt Nature wants me to feel the rhythm of Living. Dip drop, dropping the drops commingled with the rustling of yellow leaves, leaving the message behind I can still hear and I am not yet Blind. Then approached the dusk, my dreams muttered a sigh but suddenly a silver lustre of moonlight made me see the Sky again. After this heavenly romance, coiling over my book I asked my pen who am I?
It replied :
'No one but a Heroine of your own story '

Copyrights Reserved to Paras Ali/2016

To the World

I wish to write numberless words
From the ink of Mist
On the curls of Smog
I whim to envelope the strings of poesy
In the musical notebook of ash-laden smoke
Then I yearn to see you fall
To see you Insane
To let you drown in the gravity
Of mine verbose electricity
And then I love to get you entangled
In the watery web of my watery words
I like to hear you
Yelling, Screaming
To escape
And then giving up to the pinnacle of helplessness
Tired , panged and punctured
In the satin womb
of my silky hub
Just like a frosty
Window-pane
Magnetically pulls
The apparently numb
Frozen fist of fingers.

Copyrights reserved to Paras ALI