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My death won't be covered

My death won't be covered No obits, no pictures No profiles with a catalogue of dreams No 3000 word essays in the New Yorker Maybe an inch in the local paper My death wont be covered I am not sexy enough I am not white enough  I am not interesting enough Unless they can pin something on me My death won't be covered My blood isn't red enough My grief isn't relatable enough My life isn't worth enough Maybe it is not fashionable enough My death won't be covered Public executions don't draw crowds Private ones cost a fortune  Poverty is a boon after all Not everyone has company in the grave after all My death won't be covered  I don't have a name or even a number I don't have a home or even a shroud  I don't have a bomb or even a cause Or a mortgage to buy a few minutes of respite My death won't be covered  And i won't even be remembered But my oppressor will be celebrated His pain will be taught in schools While, My death won't be co...
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I have seen your dreams

I have seen your dreams I know why you scream Why the city of your heart is so utterly desolate I see graves shimmering, with  Mountains on fire, windows shuttered and empty picture frames   Vendors of rain litter your streets,  knocking down broken deodar doors  Slogans smeared on your empty walls,  promising that the revolution is in the air Boarded-up lanes guarded by strays  Lead up to vacant homes,  embers of lost stories keeping fire barely alive   Even your distant skies, a screenshot of  paisleys inlaid with grief are  knotted into a prison  made of shattered glass   I have seen your dreams I know why you scream !!
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II desperation II

How does it burn through the body this desperation, this fire unquenching desire works on the heart like acid slowly eating it away, leaving nothing behind but everlasting hunger How it burns through the body this desperation, this fire unquenching here we are, suspending physics mid-air no gravity, no friction, no dark matter to explain what is going on how it burns through the body this desperation, this fire unquenching can you smell it too? this desperation that reeks in the air, choking all reason in its putrid, miserbale path how it burns through the body this desperation, this fire unquenching this desperation, this fire unquenching
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Undelivered Package

There is an uprising coming it was supposed to be here yesterday but I suppose it is lost in the mail who do I write to the website had no address only a small warning goods once sold can not be returned maybe I should have known then not to trust Nigerian princes with unclaimed millions and fully functional revolutions leftover from the days of the next war Maybe it is stuck at customs maybe it would have been better to wait for my cousin to travel in, so he could sneak it in packed neatly between airport  toblerone and contraband iphones
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Can you hear me

Can you hear me  in the echoes of those  ancient duststorms that  wandered the prehistoric earth Before the time, when the mountain was lake and you lay in arms i have always been here just beyond the corner  of your eye flirting with the edge of the mirror  can you hear me tapering through the stone breathing ever so delicately, like the wind  blowing through a slow delhi afternoon i have always been here a forgotten memory, held hostage by a desprate love  trying to call you over all this din can you hear me a vagarant song on loose lips  sneaking around the world by hitching  rides along with unsuspecting ruffians feeding on scraps of love that you  unwittingly throw away   i have always been here embedded in radio broadcasts and sewn into silver midnight light sending out SOSes through ripples of time Can you hear me !! please.
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Angular Mohabbat

This Angular Mohabbat Fashioned out of old wives tales Of failed romances, dead Mahiwals and broken hearts A tapestry of faded old songs. Their meaning now buried under the years   Shadowed by the daily routine, This Angular Mohabbat So black and white like sacred pianos of Time Voice garbled by the sadness of being alive, An orchestra of Beatle look-alikes Our madness now accentuated by the rising sun All those people we talked to now dead Poets that no longer kill, disappearing along their own trials   Crying out Khatam-Shud, Khatam-Shud Khatam-Shud, Khatam-Shud Khatam-Shud, Khatam-Shud -- Tz
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This call might be recorded

 All calls ,from and to, Kashmir are monitored for "quality purposes" Hello!  Hello! Hello! I have called out for you So many times, on my empty phone lines You trespasser on my conversations You holder of my secrets  You unwilling, unwitting witness to my destruction  Tell them all,  what I said,  when I cried  And how I screamed into the void You professional sabteour,  You secret nazi swine,  You precious pervert  Tell them all,  Leak out my secrets, my inner fears  And my weak attempts at humour Hello!!! Hello!!! Do not pretend you do not hear me,  You who archives my life,  You who measures my conversations, You who polices my twitter Do not be an false god, unhearing, unsympathetic, unbiased You who chronicles my misery in kafkaesque detail,  You who stoically stabs paper with my name written all over it Release all my conversations,  Torture my rage,  Dismiss my existence Hello!  Hello! Hell...
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