Whitewash

It's not a poem,

 just a prose,

 that I wrote a long time ago

 and forgot to post!

I whitewash the walls of sadness

With coats of happiness

A coat of self-depreciating humour must do the trick.

A dab of fake smiles helps cover where the paint has chipped

Celebrating other’s joys helps too

Sometimes I watch fake stories

Of fake families to forget the real sorrows.

But in all honesty

A call from family

Does the trick.

When people think I am funny

It is another coat of paint to add.

My hands have become used to the feel of the brush

And to the sight of happiness trickling down from the brush

Before it can reach the wall.

But I can’t leave the wall bare because

Others shouldn’t see it for what it is.

I have heard all the advice.

Fake it till you make it.

Don’t worry, be happy.

But for how long will I pretend…

When the paint cracks,

I realise that the wall has always been the same.

We watch

We are a part of a dying age
Alive in this dying world
Expected to spread our wings
In this dust choked air.
Perhaps we will see an end to this world; our stage
Though the actors have not finished the charade

This is war
Not a battleground
Here we don't bury the martyrs
We bomb the civilians
We spill blood for peace
We revile slavery while wearing diamond rings
We let dumb idiots
Make crucial choices.
We watch as the rapists rape
The criminals lead
The capitalists make environmental policies
The politicians publish newspapers
We watch, we watch, we applaud, we ignore
And the show goes on
We later lament the time wasted
But go back to watch the play
Again and again and again
We tell this time it will be different
Because the cast has changed
but the script is exactly the same.

Traveling and Books

"Yesterday I flew with Ford Angelica
Today I travelled through Narnia"
That's what they all say

Here's not another generic poem
On travelling through pages,
and excaping life's cages

Cause in actuality
I am already a nomad in reality
Sometimes happy sometings sad,
Walking past people and places
From malls to classes
Past bluring hazy faces
Hello and goodbyes
I say to my co passengers
Reality is a series of fleeting moments
I am already voyaging
In everyday normalcy
A mundane eternity
Traveling through the same paths
Repeatedly

 When I read books
I am no traveller

I have finally come home.

You like me

You like me
When I am stripped off my religion
When I am ripped of my individuality
To fit your standardisation  of what a human should be
I am just a commodity
Would you be my friend
If my hair was hidden from your gaze
Every time you see a terrorist crime
I quip up my dissent like a keyed doll
Its an impulse.
You never ask
just imply
My silence is assumed as support
for those that terrorise.
When will you know terrorists are as much mine
As lone wolfs are yours
That isis stole my Allahu Akbar of worship
as a slogan for crime.
They stole the names of my Prophets to bear their crimes.
But they didnt steal my voice.
That's all you.
When you had the power to tell their story
You called it mine.

Piece of meat

I feel like a piece of meat

In my tight dress I feel like a sausage 

marinating in your gaze.

You don't want all of me

Just pieces.

Some prefer the breast piece

Other's prefer the leg piece.

Yes, there are some who like the whole chick-en 

But it should be young and tender.

And you only like it completly

if it's lean meat.

And it should never have a head

because for you that's scary. 

Would you prefer to take out or dine in 

Let me apply makeup

because meat looks more appetizing with garnish. 

Too much dressing interrupts the flavour

so just add sparse dressing.

It's only when I contradict you 

that I am no longer considered a piece of meat.

It's only when I contradict you 

that  I am considered alive.

because when I contradict you 

I am considered a bitch.

Chocolate

This one's not really a poem. I guess it's a prose. Be prepared for Francis Bacon vibes because I love metaphors! XD

Sugar without bitter cocoa beans
will never taste as good as chocolate.

Life without a blend of bitter
will be good but never better.

Sometimes a guest will give you dark chocolate.
Dark in varying degrees
You may not like it but make the best use of it anyway.
It's your chocolate now.

Make cookies, fudge or a souffle. Make the best use of it anyway,
Don't discard it.Let someone share it. It;s easier that way.

You may never understand why they gave it to you but maybe it was the best that they could give.
Maybe they just re-gifted if to you to lessen the burden of something that they didn't like. There is no reason to justify what they did ,but never mind,
They didn't get to enjoy that souffle!

Dreams

I role up my sleeves, to work like sheep
I curl up up my body, and go back to sleep
My brain goes asleep
My heart turns mellow
I can be whoever I want to be,
I confess my love
and my crush repeats my verse.

I sour high with birds
and greet Superman on his way to work.

In my dreams I can run with the wolves
and not get torn to pieces.

I can dance with fate
and smile without creases.

I can eat at buffets
and not gain weight.

Sure there are multiple realities
with infinite possibilities
But in my dreams
I kill those who bother me
without worrying about the judiciary.

In my dreams I can be whoever I want to be
I can be me
completely
without apology.

Sure it's not always rainbows and daises
I do get nightmares.

I can't escape them
So I delay them
I hit snooze