Imran's Poetry: 07/27/15

Jul 27, 2015

Hon gay kuch aur bhi Asbaab tabahi kay magar

Khush gumaani bhi kahin ka nahin rehnay deti

Main sach kehnay se ghabra'nay laga hoon

Main itni baar jhutlaya gaya hoon

Goonjtay rehtay hain alfaaz meray kaano main

Tu, to Aaraam se keh deta hai Khuda Hafiz

Tumhari zaat se aagay to raasta hi nahin

Mera safar to yahein par tamaam hota hai

Kitni nadeeda tamana'on ki hasrat le kar

Chaand her roz Andheron se guzar jaata hai

Remembrance

Your hands easy

Weight, teasing the bees

Hived in my hair, your smile at the

Slope of my cheek. On the

Occasion, you press

Above me, glowing, spouting

Readiness, mystery rapes

My reason

When you have withdrawn

Your self and the magic, when

Only the smell of your

Love lingers between

My breasts, then, only

Then, can i greedily consume

Your presence.

Momma welfare roll

Momma welfare roll

Her arms semaphore fat triangles,

Pudgy hands bunched on layered hips

Where bones idle under years of fatback

And lima beans.

Her jowls shiver in accusation

Of crimes clichéd by

Repetition. Her children, strangers

To childhood's toys, play

Best the games of darkened doorways,

Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of

Other people's property.

Too fat to whore,

Too mad to work,

Searches her dreams for the

Lucky sign and walks bare-handed

Into a den of bureaucrats for

Her portion.

'They don't give me welfare.

I take it.'

When you come
when you come to me, unbidden,
beckoning me
to long-ago rooms,
where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,
I cry.

Passing time

Passing time

Your skin like dawn

Mine like musk

One paints the beginning

Of a certain end.

The other, the end of a

Sure beginning.

Insomniac

Insomniac

There are some nights when

Sleep plays coy,

Aloof and disdainful.

And all the wiles

That i employ to win

Its service to my side

Are useless as wounded pride,

And much more painful.

Touched by an angel

Touched by an angel

We, unaccustomed to courage

Exiles from delight

Live coiled in shells of loneliness

Until love leaves its high holy temple

And comes into our sight

To liberate us into life.

Love arrives

And in its train come ecstasies

Old memories of pleasure

Ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold,

Love strikes away the chains of fear

From our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity

In the flush of love's light

We dare be brave

And suddenly we see

That love costs all we are

And will ever be.

Yet it is only love

Which sets us free.

Weekend glory

Some clichty folks

Don't know the facts,

Po-sin' and preen in'

And put-tin' on acts,

Stretch-in' their backs.

They move into condos

Up over the ranks,

Pawn their souls

To the local banks.

Buying big cars

They can't afford,

Ridin' around town

Actin' bored.

If they want to learn how to live life right

They ought to study me on saturday night.

My job at the plant

Ain't the biggest bet,

But i pay my bills

And stay out of debt.

I get my hair done

For my own self's sake,

So i don't have to pick

And i don't have to rake.

Take the church money out

And head cross town

To my friend girl's house

Where we plan our round.

We meet our men and go to a joint

Where the music is blue

And to the point.

Folks write about me.

They just can't see

How i work all week

At the factory.

Then get spruced up

And laugh and dance

And turn away from worry

With sassy glance.

They accuse me of livin'

From day to day,

But who are they kiddin'?

So are they.

My life ain't heaven

But it sure ain't hell.

I'm not on top

But i call it swell

If i'm able to work

And get paid right

And have the luck to be black

On a saturday night.