Songs of Barbarism

A.S.M. ShamimMiah
Euro-Khaleeji Oman, 2015

[1]
By the same poet:
Boishakhi Litany
eBook: www.lulu.com, 2005

Copyright 2015 Euro-Khaleeji Research and Publishing House, Oman

All rights reserved. This publication may not be reproduced for
commercial purposes without the express written permission of the
publisher except for brief quotations in book reviews, scholarly journals,
or educational textbooks. However, since Euro-Khaleeji Research and
Publishing House is committed to creating learning societies with
educational opportunities for all populations (UNESCO), it grants the
author permission to allow the partial or total reproduction of his work.

First Printing: 2015

ISBN 978-1-329-10530-0
Cover picture from www.freeimages.co.uk

Euro-Khaleeji Research and Publishing House

Sultanate of Oman
www.euro-khaleeji.org

[2]

Dedication

Once, I read in This Boys Life, a book written by Tobias Wolff,

that his first stepfather used to say that what [he] didnt know
would fill a book. Well, I believe his father, too.
I dedicate this book to my father Md. Abdul LatifMiah, whose
impressive career in diplomacy, despite coming from a remote
village, inspired me to believe that life can provide you with
experiences that can bring out a poet in you. This book is also for
Sarmin Sultana, my darling wife, who helped me to put up with
worries, and Abu Aaraf Md. JubairMiah, my beloved son, who
always brings smiles to my face. As well, Mrs. Akhtara Begum, my
mother, who knows that I have grown up to be a man, a husband,
and a father, yet treats me as though I was a toddler.
Nevertheless, I must also thank the companies that kept producing
the caffeinated coffee and sugar that have been my companions
through many long nights of writing.

[3]

Acknowledgment
My eternal gratitude goes out to Dr. Milton George at University of
Buraimi for inspiring me to finalize this compilation. Throughout
the last year, he encouraged, appreciated, and supported my work.

[4]

Prologue
This omnibus has brought me much delight. The prosaic depiction
of cross cultural experiences, international socio-political
interdependence, the socio-religious stereotyped behaviors of
people of one nation towards the other, and the greed-driven
nationalism that fuels passion for hegemonic supremacy, as well as
womanizing dilatoriness in poetry inspired by shayeri or gazal genres
of Urdu poetry: they have all propelled me back to the fond
memories of when I penned these poems, and the books where
they were found.
Each of these poems is like a territorial mass encompassing
cognitive, precognitive and conscientious endeavors that I am
introducing to a new audience. But, there is, perhaps, a better
excuse for giving Songs of Barbarism to the public than can be offered
for many of the anthologies that have recently been issued. The
public, generally speaking, does not know that there are Bangladeshi
poets who write in English to redress this lack of information is,
alone, a work worthy of my effort.
Until now the work of our most talented poets has been largely
unavailable. Early volumes were slim and published in very limited
editions, such as The Sounds of Silence(2001); Forward Poetry(2011); and
The Externalist: A Journal of Perspective(2013).
This
anthology
is
about
commemoration,
tribute
andacknowledgement of our spiritual origins, biological
interconnectedness, and religious diversity. It celebrates the wonder
of life, of being, and of passing awayas machinated phenomena,
rather than innate events.
However, I believe that through this edition of my work in poetry, I
will have an opportunity to depict the loss of freedomin
Bangladesh, the grandeur of God that is most misunderstood, the
futility of life, and the struggle in love. Those who have been
consistently publishing my works have established a remarkable
place in my life as their unparalleled efforts keep giving a voice to
my poetic endeavors across the globe. But, so far, it has only

[5]

afforded me a position in the poetic society of Bangladesh, where I

truly belong.
It is a journey of prosaic intellectuality which will end only when I
reach my preemptive destiny. Each versification of thoughts has
something of its own to bestow to us. Only by recognizing and
realizing it, may we be able to topple the barriers in crosscommunication.
Poems that were already published and talked about have also been
assembled in this edition. I hope and pray that my thoughts and
beliefs will touch those who read my poems.

[6]

Contents
Dedication .................................................................................................... 2
Acknowledgment.......................................................................................... 3
Prologue ....................................................................................................... 4
The Child of Fortune's Foul ......................................................................... 11
In Dyes of Magnolia .................................................................................... 12
The Flavor of Humanity Only ...................................................................... 13
Driven off Slums ......................................................................................... 14
The Forgotten Carcass ................................................................................ 15
A Rose was Raped ...................................................................................... 16
Candle in the Wind ..................................................................................... 17
Dipped in the Funnel of Life ........................................................................ 18
Humans and Envy ....................................................................................... 19
Mowing Continues...................................................................................... 20
One Little Puff ............................................................................................ 21
The Rocky Isle ............................................................................................. 22
Scaffold of Life ............................................................................................ 23
Shame ........................................................................................................ 24
Sing O Robin .............................................................................................. 25
Strong in the Will ........................................................................................ 26
Take a Sick Parade ...................................................................................... 27

[7]
The Beauty.................................................................................................. 28
The Cloudy Bosom ...................................................................................... 29
The Creed of Humanity ............................................................................... 30
The Crow .................................................................................................... 32
The Destitute Lots ....................................................................................... 34
The Ice-age ................................................................................................. 37
The Voyage ................................................................................................. 38
A Beautiful Plague ...................................................................................... 39
One Stony Ring ........................................................................................... 41
The Angel of Woodland .............................................................................. 42
The Gigolo................................................................................................... 43
The Maelstrom ........................................................................................... 44
A Lovely Affair of Love ................................................................................ 45
The Honey Moon ........................................................................................ 46
The Shadow ................................................................................................ 47
Your Memories ........................................................................................... 48
The Awakening ........................................................................................... 50
The New Awakening ................................................................................... 51
The Post Awakening ................................................................................... 52
The Awakeners Awakening ........................................................................ 53
The Fallen Awakening ................................................................................. 54
The Revised Awakening .............................................................................. 55

[8]
The Flaunted Awakening ............................................................................ 56
The Cursive Awakening............................................................................... 57
The Passover Sacrifice ................................................................................ 59
Simbhat Bat at Home.................................................................................. 60
The Atharvaveda Of Marriage .................................................................... 61
The Duty of Yibbum .................................................................................... 62
The Faith..................................................................................................... 64
The God ...................................................................................................... 65
The Sea of Faith .......................................................................................... 66
The Resolution of the Fire Fly ..................................................................... 67
Before Cremation ....................................................................................... 68
By Their Rude Guns .................................................................................... 70
PEACE: The Metaphor for US Patriotism ..................................................... 71
Boys of My Home ....................................................................................... 72
The Campaign ............................................................................................. 73
Peace at Gun Point ..................................................................................... 75
Farmer of My Rightful Estate ...................................................................... 76
The Concoction ........................................................................................... 78
The Iron Birds ............................................................................................. 79
The Song of Barbarism ................................................................................ 80
To Topple they Came .................................................................................. 81
Tread Slowly ............................................................................................... 83

[9]
Voice no Guns ............................................................................................. 84
Brandishing ................................................................................................. 85
Bangladesh: My fate and flaws ................................................................... 87
City of Dead ................................................................................................ 89
Bangla is Bleeding Again ............................................................................. 90
Boishakhi Litany .......................................................................................... 91
Hey Boishakh: To Celebrate or not to Celebrate ......................................... 92
Lines Written on Dhaka City........................................................................ 93
A Fallen Girl ................................................................................................ 95
Loves Tavern .............................................................................................. 96
River Shunned Her Body ............................................................................. 97
The Flower Maid ......................................................................................... 98
The Wedding Night ..................................................................................... 99

[10]

Meditative

[11]

The Child of Fortune's Foul

I'm a child of fortune's foul,
Born of one's momentous pleasure, and left to fetch;
What not, for life, so unmeant to me,
Yet, for breath, for belly, for body, which never match.
They say, I beleaguer nature's supreme right
Never owned by humble parents, rising in my labor;
I whisk thicket of groves about the place, they say,
I do perhaps, to catch a sight, receive a care or favor.
What's true - no one knows, down here,
All ranks are same by color, race or faith of unknown;
Yet, for survival, for fitness, for supremacy, perhaps;
Morals of yesterday like heavy grass over grave are mown.
Just as green rejuvenating to life from roots;
My instincts never shy-off from shooting high to reach;
Where born off a known background others go;
By pedigree, by gentry or fortune's hitch.
November 15, 2007

[12]

In Dyes of Magnolia
In dyes of magnolia the season came
A sight so lovely feels like a sip of morning tea
Full of warmth in such blush, I felt to wear
Romantic feel for my beloved long condoned.
Like the spring surrendered in selfless act
Or the whole of dreamscape reduced to sorrow;
I frenzied a fuzzy glimpse of her forgotten face
Too long Ive prized the keep in the abysmal heart.
This dye of magnolia is reminiscent of my leave
Riveted in time, quite numb, bemoaning transience.
This seclusion amidst the crowd feels horrendous
Love-struck, thus, I bleed in the dead of the night.
Passing gradually down the alley of gloom
In drips across the earth in pursuit of holiness
If baptized by ignorance I were to be blessed
Ill rush to dye the earth in red with my blood.
For, her promiscuity hides her infidelity
All season round she paints me in hue of love
So if by chance she fails to keep her for me
Should I mutter in disgust at such a failure?
November 22, 2005

[13]

The Flavor of Humanity Only

Rid me off this skin,
I shan't wear it anymore;
There's more of flavor than humanity;
Little shame no more.
A sweat of hope demises
With arms in hand as he goes
About the business of war - must I say?
Lots of cash deeply flows.
For love, for peace, for harmony
His artillery spits death so fine
Not a missed target in the field
Such is his duty six to nine.
Senile old fool looks down upon
And bare of support in hideous cot;
Each living thing avoids confrontation
And evading eyes prize their loot.
Set aside as civil witness
Do I deserve the skin on me?
That one thing common with them
Save the guts to fight to free.
Rid me off this skin therefore
I shan't be called a man again;
To be hushed spectator only
While more bodies are slain.
November 18, 2008

[14]

Driven off Slums

Amidst high rises of Dhaka
There breathes unwieldy slum
Surrounding which buildings grow
Like my enfolding palm.
So, safe, cared and innocuous
Though, all dwellers seem to be
Yet, fuelling their heart a wrath
Mounts to call a flood from sea.
Threat of weather, beside a tear
Constantly run through conscience of them
Nothing save the delight of living
Keeps the spirit abound by same.
I see smoke from tents climb
High-up in the reachless of heaven
Penetrating deep thro the clouds
Piercing layers seven.
Yes! Like the fragrance superb
They touch the sky, meaning no harm
Like the tender grove springing
Thro the vaulting palm.
Let there be smoke coming out
Those slums remind me of village dear
My grannys kitchen full of wood
My incense bearing food on fryer.
Drive them off no more,
With each slum, gone will my culture be
My tradition so colorful
My mothers smeared glee.
July 12, 2004

[15]

The Forgotten Carcass

She sleeps, yet stages a performance
In her death, she finds no credit, but eyes
Devouring in each glimpse, like crows
They scan her topless, in sick surprise.
As if a carcass, of forgotten bitch
Lying beside garbage, she too sleeps;
While like many, I pass-by, with disgust
Never truly knowing what keeps.
There a swarm of people gathered
Only to have a glance, and pity;
Her bony limbs, though in decay;
Still tempts their hypocrite morality.
Perhaps, Im too human to deny,
Deep inside, I too have the same
A fear of losing humanity, how lame,
Surely, I doubt, I dare to keep the name.
September 18, 2005

[16]

A Rose was Raped

A beautiful rose blossomed
Over the meadow, seldom walked upon
By any; and looked straight eye to eye
With the veiled eyes of the horizon
Which seemed to hide them from her
I wondered why? But then a sight so sick
Centered my attention, as I saw a butterfly
Dangling in the air was courting in spasmodic
Manner and leaves her pregnant of its child
While she remains passive waiting to wither away
But to her ill luck another butterfly comes
And leaves her a harlot she was not till today.
A rape so true, so open, so widely done
From the blossoming of a rose under the naked sun.

[17]

Candle in the Wind

Like the candle in the wind
I burn against the formidable
Struggling so much its suffocation
I learn to cherish the candle.
So powerful is the Force
So tiring is its push and pull
Hardly stabilizing the grip
I light the gloomy dull.
Piercing thro thick murky-space
I put up a glow in the vacuum
So fatal is the cut I cut
That all enlightened rush to plume.
Like the candle in the wind
I burn all night in my plight
No heart consoles my guilt
I solely bear the blaming right.
And slowly melting in my flesh
Sip by sip I penetrate the soil
From where no flame returns
But turnips unwillingly boil.
June 15, 2003

[18]

Dipped in the Funnel of Life

Dipped in the funnel of life
Bordered by the glassy walls
Slipping with greasy times passage
I near the plastered malls.
Breath by breath tendency jeopardized
And told by the knowledge of birth
Conscience disapproved to lurk
I ascend the stairs of mortal earth.
Slowly tipping over like a cup
Rolling down the table wide in droplets
Ones emotional self gradually slips
Temper loses and hope frets.
Oneness of the soul and body lies
Bare and naked to us as phony
When betrayed by affinity breath withers
Those reliable puffs of living of me.
December 9, 2003

[19]

Humans and Envy

If love was contagious like disease
Would it have relented their envy?
Filling their hearts with priceless love
Would it have reared Humanity?
That, which is lacking from mans pursuit
As pelf takes on their passion
To acquire which they accept to pay
What is known to you and me as animation?
Love they claim to their fellows
And, behind their back conspire as well
What truly binds such a species together?
If it not be for a bosom to swellWhile telling, so much is common;
Yet, diversed by each traits
By mortal laws for mortal desires
Not before death does anyone frights.
So much for brotherhood, and globalization
In primitivism as this where life costs us more
Weighed against trivial things, often money,
I would love to die thrice before.
24-25 December, 2003

[20]

Mowing Continues
Mowing thro the grassy field
I came across a rough stone
Thats when I decided not to yield,
And since then a success known.
Though, grasses keep growing
Stones rolling back in place
I know my job was of Mowing
Not to question the Unknown Face.
From beyond the screen the Hand rules
This languid mill kicks and flourishes,
All that I know are my jewels,
To spend before the world perishes.
My enthralling span may soon be over,
But grasses will then still be growing,
Upon my decaying bosom over and over,
With a new mower mowing.
January 18, 2002

[21]

One Little Puff

Soundly sleeping in the bed
Lay the Deads of our kind
Calmly therefore walk past them
The sleep is real for your mind.
Yesterday, they were alive
Playing with me all around;
Catching and letting go the fly,
They finally met the profound.
A dreaded joy is now their host
Which giving so much the rest denies
Beneath the mud flesh decays
Mere bone and skull are all that remains.
What is life? If not an illusion
Like the madmans babbling unnecessary
A traverse u-turn to the source
A misers alms so meager.
One little puff, then it goes Dangling in the air unseen, while bellows
Rocketing the sky touches no limit
Save serving to the purpose.
This tapestry called life
Is the variegated joy which befell upon me;
So long after the bang, that horrible bang!
Nearing its time to once more be.
When silently all shall lie down
And slowly merge into the muddy-soil
Never to rise perhaps, this will be end
To all the coiling in pursuit of a boil.
July 20, 2003

[22]

The Rocky Isle

Sitting on the rocky isle
Here, I stand before the roaring sea
That tossing and flinging so much knows
The truth of life that I wish to see.
Here lay the barren shore
Where emptiness opens its distant door
Measuring the void in exile
One after another waves score.
Calmly watching this frictional game
Now I crumble; now I heal;
Then, tear away in defeat within myself;
Hard to explain this strange zeal.
As I make the portrait, it hits;
Often and again bound by fate
Against this solid bequeathing coast
In countless pieces, thus you fret.
Wondering like the foamy bubbles
Spidering their way towards milky dome
I, too, hassle between the Rubbles
In search of thee, my dear home.
Wither will the waves take me
Wither will the roars end
I shall dive into the sea and become
An ever silent friend.
10 June 2003

[23]

Scaffold of Life
Soon or later down the scaffold
All activity will stoop to go
Those streets of fated footprints
With their spade and saw.
The darkling clutches of wild
Sipping thro the wedlock of flesh and bone;
Drains off the greasy red
That so forth had lives sown.
But, a toys worth did man serve
Unto his Majesty who ploughed the clay
Throughout the genre until now
In a game that immortals play.
February 19, 2004

[24]

Shame
How soon you realize? What shame is?
When nakedly your daughter walks-by
And gazers trap a view in salacious fancy
Hastily sipping poison you yearn to die.
How soon you realize? What shame is?
When drunk in the night your son rapes
And limb of the law trails to punish
Hidden in the night you burn the tapes.
How soon you realize? What shame is?
When lost to enemy your wife stages bed
And folks mutter words of disgust so loud
Curled in sentiments you dig with spade.
How soon you realize? What shame is?
When given to fate all blackens like blue sky
And tendency of revival dims to zero
Shame-struck, and yielded, you plan to die.
How soon you realize? What shame is?
When you err to recognize the err, believe,
That shame befell you, correct the err;
And learn to draft a reason to live.
October 30, 2005

[25]

Sing O Robin
O Robin sing your song to me
In voice so hurt ever could be
Sing the song that no one wrongs
Save the solitary self of me.
Sing in mirthful joy of yours
Care not how much it pours
That burning liquor of my eyes
Sing without stopping all your lures.
Your lyrics are strange, yet I know
Whom you sing to and love avow
I, being a non singer, need you
Sing, therefore, over my ladys mow.
Sing that song that you first sang
Sing O Robin till she sang
The lyrics of my love and came
Between my arms to fang.
The jocunditys venom, let her pour
Im quite happy just sing once more
Until she gave her heart away
Until my eyes gleamed no more.
Sing O Robin sing your song
That time-montage so strong
Take me back in to my past
Where, I truly and solely belong.
April 20, 2003

[26]

Strong in the Will

Strong in the will, I yet seek
That momentous glint on your face
Rising from depth which wears-away
My loving passion for the Grace.
On the course, all I know
We both are set to meet, alas!
Closely walking like the railway
From our sides, we pass.
Gazing beside, we do see
Both of us walking on split ways
Now we learn a chance to meet
Now all hope dismays.
Strong with the will, yet we are
For hundred years from now to be
Arms in arms held between The widening tempestuous sea.
Started (May 05, 2005) ended (May 6, 2005)

[27]

Take a Sick Parade

Take a sick parade
Thro' the aisles of hospital beds,
The laughter you laugh,
Will instantly bear a mourner's shades.
Here cries of grief and joy,
Both side by side dwell,
Some with grief return,
And some with joy swell.
'Tis a haunted house
A place for angels too.
Here, some meet their Source
Whereof, some are sent hereto.
Not the horror, face the facts
'Tis a house whither life come and go,
While breaths of their folks linger at the edge,
Now a birth, now a death, hard to tell what overgo.
They call it a curative abode,
But, I name it a Gambler's hut,
Whither lives with money are weighed,
Who wins, who loses, the knowledge without.

[28]

The Beauty
Beauty has the fastest legs
A speedy flow to flood thro
Past the years limiting tags
To score the highest in one go.
Its vain to trust the Beauty
So dubious is its mood
Whence, it strikes past twenty
It wakes the whole neighborhood.
Street to street, it becomes a talk
When in full shining gloss;
Tearing the fame so horrible a shock
When it streams like the floss.
Count no more, this I say
Beauty is not a joy forever
What was deceived in dismay
Is the ugly renews forever.
14th -20th June, 2003

[29]

The Cloudy Bosom

Cloudy bosom barren of rains
So little strays so little remains
This passing age is quick sand
Where love bellows, and life stains.
Rosy cheek of her grief-laden face
Where pale and white soon replace
The hope of joy when she coyly turns
Beneath her burns, love embraces.
The man of her life comes and goes
Never so cruelly did any such foes
Dead and alive and dead as she felt
Her throbbing heart pleasure ensures.
This is called life, such hide and seek
Where now a hope and now a leak
Shuddered us all, yet we thrived
But, endeavors were safer to reek.
April 2, 2003

[30]

The Creed of Humanity

My creed is humanity by birth,
I was a man first, then a race
And, follower of a secondary faith
Which I follow upon my findings about His Grace.
So, when I say I love you,
I mean it as I have versed
Not for following my personal creed
But, for your being a human first.
You and I are similar
And, begotten of the same source
Why then separate creed, we adhere
And in alluring manner them enforce.
You are colored and Im not
Is that an excuse to suffice reason why
I should hate you and love abhor
And, In finding a clash of belief your life deny?
Let me teach you then my dear
We have the same blood running thro our veins
We all cry at our birth and in death say goodbye
While our good friends take the pains.
You too labor for a piece of loaf
Much the same way as I do here, all day long
Under the same sun, same sky and same creed
Which is of filling the belly of our throng.
Since, all these are same not by chance
But, by the fact, that we are but humankind
I believe that suffices enough to call you
To follow my creed so true and refined.

[31]

Let us not be held by our personal creed

But, that of our impersonal fraternity, that
Fosters more love minus hatred and aversion
From our fellow mens habitat.

[32]

The Crow
Weary of flight sitting by the river bed
Crukcrukcruroo cries the black crow
So much is filled therein to drink
Not a single drop of water though.
Hither and thither looks he in hope
Perhaps, a shower will come in to wet
Catching in sight nothing but a cloud
His thirst quenches with dry beset.
Nook to nook though the river runs
Spilling-over at times it aids the land,
While all beside, ruddy with its red
Points towards the merciless hand.
Dribbling from the shattered bodies
Here lay the river of blood and flesh,
Crow having fed on them wishes to sip
A drop of water, only if it were fresh.
Neighbouring fields bear the pain
Aching with their masters suffer misery
Drenched in redness of the blood
Crops bow to pray the demised and free.
The crow crying louder than before
Still finds no water pouring from top
All beneath its footing is sickening
Hence, it mourns for the breath to stop.
Like a fish out of water the crow
Flings back and forth up and down
As if being pricked inside somewhere
The pain of which is deeply sown.

[33]

Slowly creeping to the end it goes

With the final breeze that passed by
None has seen anything like this
Save me, the man from seventh sky.
March 29, 2003
Dedicated to the Iraqi People

[34]

The Destitute Lots

Still hearth and skeptic eyes
Raise a wonder when it dies
No one ever heard such tale
Ah! Those silent sibilant sighs,
Everywhere dispersed are they
Pondering over land and bay
Beautiful mystic as a nightingale
No one hears the song they say.
Mountains bear the brunt of them
Like the plain where a potato is gem
Despair with hope lives go on
Such is the earthly game.
They are the dolls merely
So full of life yet scanty
In their way with distinct woebegone
Happiness occurred there so rarely.
Who will dare to defy the Will?
That runs from afar this languid mill
To produce for own purpose here
At the costs of their internal kill.
Wishes and desires are withering flowers
Eyeing with the sky faints and lowers
Only to realize there
The fact of being mortal wooers.
Those doubtful gazes never rests
Near the hearth still nests
With hope that it will boil

[35]

The pot of rice in those gloomy crests.

How they live? When they die?
None to note nor spy
Such obscure and mystic soil
Wearing on where they nigh.
Distinct from those in blocks who lives
And imitating the gods openly deceives
They are the lots of fortune denied
Have no magic wand in their sleeves.
The fake gods suckle on them
Under broad sunshine and in profound hem
With each thing never belied
If one claims it a monotonous game.
Never a month when they rejoice
When they are happy making noise
Cant anyone see cant any one hear?
There are lives without choice.
Each year that goes-by
Relieves a soul consoles a sigh
But, the tolling of future near
From their conscious mind never say goodbye.

[36]

Lotus eyed maid was she

From that clan of sprightless sea
Mourning to satisfy the men
As low for a price as a bread can be.
Her daughters staged the bed at night
Her sons prayed out of sight
Her man rested sick when
She bore the brunts of fight.
Was this all she was meant to bear
And through base means kick the gear
Of not only hers but four of them
Away from glances shying-off the fear.
What manner of men are they then?
What class defines their clan?
Such people become no name
But loads of heavy burden.
That still hearth lights no fire
Burns no pot of rice, such liar!
They can feign so well
In personal throes and situations so dire.
Never a men from block dwellers
Cherished their meetings with jewelers
Such highly did they swell
And boasted their being happy wailers.
August 29, 2002

[37]

The Ice-age
Long gone with the early drop
The sun might be in the arctic somewhere
Roaming about for a single soul
To prove its condescension there,
But, white and barren lay the plain
Green has withered not a sign of life
In this garden of snow and ice
Who might explain what was rife.
Years have piled a load of tales
Old folks of this region find enough listeners
Among them an anxious whimsy sail
Of how this green used to be and hears
Looking at the icy white cold and pinning
They merely devour the chill
Unable to vision the livings of then
They soundly cuddle under the hill.
Poor little things, deprived little souls
Could not envision that life was rich
In times of heavenly preaching, when all knew
A force beyond restraint was there to teach
How to walk upon this path of delusion
And subsequently be on the track without flaws
Carrying long wayside of the confusion.
This plain too was hot someday
Creatures of all sorts walked and lived
Along their sides grazing and feeding
While human unearthened and believed
The mysteries of cycle depended on matter
What initiated leak in the boat of joy
As years heaped on top of yester years
To many loses occurred for such employ.
March 4, 2003

[38]

The Voyage
Beyond the sunset is a home sure
Before the dying glint bellows
To the numberless sailors welcome says
Who little did know of the echoes.
Deep from the whirling dark it calls
From that lasting fade of the passing away sun
Another promise of a new day springs
With an added hope of a life and burn.
Parting waves of the sibilant sea
Wounded by the sounding oars of the boys
Moans and sighs to veil-less of the sky
And opens the timeless voyage.
A trackless, mapless and guideless journey
Where people say god sits in his chair
In wait for us to reach and show our invitation
Before to the timelessness we retire.
Chopping thro the stubborn waves
Eyeing with the endless sky full of stars
Making furrows after furrows in the heart of the sea
That complains not to my oars.
Here I close down to the sunset
Almost touching it, I dont, who knows why
It seems too near and still quite far
Beyond and yonder still to try.
Voices call out for me, I hurry
Evening star delays its ascend I notice
Rowing with full might I go
Never truly meaning to reach.
A fear strong of unknown things
Having seen no God before, I wonder
Who shall I meet there, who will greet?
That face will I grow fonder.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003

[39]

A Beautiful Plague
Time, as if a snail on foot to cross miles
Creeping below the marshy wet of tears;
On course to end the final marathon, aloneDaring in the eye my life too gears.
Far yonder I see a glint, flickering to me
As if calling to begin on epic course,
Arming with love, care and amourous tools
To once more fall for the rose.
That beautiful plague so enchanting
As if a girl of heavenly being has fallen
Like a leaf of oak, under my feet
Dry and crispy to feel as when
Nothing else so close to being loved
Save I, whose begotten self once hurt
From the same touch of tamed lass
Learned the ploys and wounding art.
Yonder in the depth of skys bosom
A glint of tear ball springs to roll down
Drenching the earth withal and me
Soundly staining my whitish gown,
That too, prepared for final go,
Unwilling her mean self never questions
I wish, alas! Where I meander
Purposeless, hither and thither in bemoans.
May 25, 2005

[40]

Love, Romance & Melancholy

[41]

One Stony Ring

Love has lost its meaning to me,
Betrayal came to fence a day
Your tears washed away all myths
Ah! That togetherness of May.
Happy be you in your marriage;
Foster no memory of our parting,
Im to gauge the retreat,
Thro that alley of sand and dust.
Numb and cold with desireless heart
Down the lane of mortality I go,
For never your return to me will be;
Never your love again Ill know.
One stony ring of gold did snatch
My only beloved, my lovely match.
13 May, 2004

[42]

The Angel of Woodland

A distant woodland-air, as if she was;
In her swift parting sweep, when she glances
Lovely tulips shy to express after her thus,
Their wildest want to fall like avalanches.
Truly, an angel, out for adventure, she seemed,
When between my arms of earthly clay, I felt her;
Nothing belike a humans child, I deemed;
But, a heavenly soul wondering too far.
Her chastity belt was sealed by Right still
She fanged me as if by choice of divinity, I thought;
Alas! Her promiscuity, where I keep? How I can heal?
The wounds I took after a promise of a knot.
Tied by some unseen strings, she flew;
Higher and higher, thro layers of seven skies
Upon my desire to rehearse the same anew
She went, unhearing my voiceless cries.
Like the woodland-air, as if she was,
When to me, ghoulish visits she pays each day;
Lovely tulips turn their eyes to pass
Their loathing for the angel, that loves to foray.
November 7, 2005

[43]

The Gigolo
Like a decayed canoe in stagnant pool
Your beauty half sunken half in bloom
Skills my fancy, my yearn to gulp down
The fact of love under light and gloom.
What choices came thereof, when I fell;
Those enfolding lips, slipped so much
Like a demeaning lover, you contrived love
So alluring yet, loathsome was the touch.
As if a gigolo, I was to you, when made
Lovelessly love as so they would name
But, I swear no mortification was guide
To me, when I seepd in thy mortal shame.
Beads of ice, reaching short, dropped
Right before the door of their fantasy
Where gyring thro and thro a print
Perhaps, Id have printed in eternity.
October 6, 2005

[44]

The Maelstrom
Corroded by the runny slick, the canoe
Though lay intact, quiet in static pool
Her beauty weakens, her shine withdraws
She yet, charms, the mongering seagull.
Those gimlet eyes as if were steel hulls,
Nailing deep into maelstrom of me
She swears love craftily, like a pig
Always belying the nature of the sea.
That having a coast, still keeps another
As if one satisfies less, the other may more
Her gulf widens to reach, deep nooks
Where no water has ever gone to devour.
Shes a melting pot to her man, and me
Like the betraying horizon, a lie, so free.
October 6, 2005

[45]

A Lovely Affair of Love

When you go, my desire retires
Holding the arm of sigh, life withdraws
As if a breath released forever,
A fear of never having you grows.
Without your knowing, I mourn
Deep inside so many prayers I say
Only if you could hear them, perhaps
Never to go youd decide to stay.
Alas! The lace I intertwined was weak
Shredded thus, it falls apart, to let go
My beloved, if only you wouldnt
And in bent of mind end the love show.
Surely a world of joy will befall us
A lovely affair of love will exceed thus.
October 6, 2005

[46]

The Honey Moon

Dream it seemd, first, when I felt
Two of us in intimacy played
The corporeal sport it was for certain
As I made love undelayed.
Nothing said we, all but was done
Giving so much, thus far we doubted
Her nectarine lips, felt so chaste
I simply sipped, as it delighted.
In her color, I got staind
Beautiful, glossy, it looks so well
Malleable and syrupy as honey could be
Between my arms she freely fell.
Heaven, as if had come down to me
Blessings, perhaps, had at last come to me.
September 25, 2005

[47]

The Shadow
A shadow quite sly, covetous and greedy
Like nostalgia follows her mind, stepwise
I vain repulse the thought, alas! In theft
My desirous trophy, he claims as prize.
Then swearing high, he goes invisible
When I place ice-balls in the cave of joy
Her doors shut at me, she thinks him by
And allows me to loveless flesh enjoy.
His love is dexterity, yet she prizes him more
Despite my loyalty, she clings her trust in his name
Her demands scam to believe she loves me, alas!
Thinking, her man she does, I rebuff the shame.
Visits after visits I pay, she keeps her lock on
Never for a second, had she hinted love for me,
Such a minx, yet I urge god must bestow questionless
For I love her most artlessly.
Alas! That shadow stays so slyly in her mind
Inching deep into her faculty of thoughts like a joy
She travels under light to allow him alongside
She keeps me next to her only with the want to enjoy.
Shes not a liar, nor a deserter, but a pact of both
Whose heart bears not a mans heart like a lady;
But, several of them at once to satisfy the desire
That perhaps, by my honest attempts, couldnt be.
Still, however, Ill let her shadow walk beside
Never imploring to disallow the pact of promise
Where I get only the pains, he prizes the trophy
I prove I love her without demands and miss.
October 24, 2005

[48]

Your Memories
Your memories found me tonight,
And built four walls in lightening fast around me,
Slow in pace they hunt and smother me;
While dark despair around benight.
Of happy and sad they are blended,
Far in my back thought I, had ended.
Now reminds me to recall again
Of you and me together when-Expressed and made love without feign,
Promised union hereafter then;
We sever perhaps for life!
Perhaps not, but some long years.
After which, I shall have you my wife,
In sacrifice of hundred million tears.

[49]

Awakening, and Inspirational

[50]

The Awakening
I do not speak of light
through the clouds,
Theres plenty of sunshine
in the smiles of my youth at home,
for night after night
and day after day
unyielding, untiring still
they stand on the dome
a midst worlds resounding applauds.
Their voice cracks the dawn,
the dawn crams their voice too,
cries of their martyred friends,
fuel the voice still so,
just justice of the foe
is the slogan bleated over and over,
right here and right now,
pass the blanket of right to cover.
I do not talk of candles
that lit all night through to dim
the hope
the voice of youth is high
so time has nigh
to mop
all our yesterdays garbage from home
and let the martyrs breath again
in the air of fresh freedom
beforeboishakhi clouds bring stormy rain.

[51]

The New Awakening

Wishes are like leaves of a tree
Spurting each day, they turn auburn;
Over my desire to come true;
Over my feelings so blue.
Turning auburn is not the liability;
Slipping from stem is what I care;
For a wrecked china jar is a mistake;
For a mistake is truly not a fake.
Faking to feel well gears life
Pacing or not yet we move ahead
At every step we wish in hope
At every hope our wishes crop.
Like a gamblers dice on the roll
Now a chance and now a misfortune;
For season of luck may favor us;
For season of luck may disfavor thus.
Should I wish in the New Year?
Should my wishes be true all through?
Theres little I can tell for sure;
Theres but plenty to tempt and lure.

[52]

The Post Awakening

I dont speak of light
rather the shadow that hides under my foot;
treacherous, spooky and serpentine,
in its hideous steps on an unknown route,
there it parades over the faithful souls
there it hunts the birds of peace;
yet, my governing frame blatantly flaunts
none but I to blame the breach.
I dont speak of governance
rather the course it takes on the way;
that which is less taken across the fence
or that which can all hopes in array
bring to light to cast away the dark
andshew away the shadowy snout;
that calls to defragment this present ark
which is what the grand design is about.

[53]

The AwakenersAwakening
I dont speak of the smoke
rather the fire that burns unseen;
beneath the thick hay
dunked in the frothy bay;
where it cooks a planned dish
with all, except the diners phish
carefully soaked in each others sin;
down the alley of egg yoke.
I dont speak of the smoke
rather the blurry make over of the sky;
where all hear voices so nearly true;
about most of us and the rest of you;
being skinned alive for deeds of past;
or killed for crimes unpunished, at last;
the voices ring so much of the high
supreme wearers of the cloak.
I dont speak of the smoke
rather the heat that generates from it,
that which ensures life to breed,
that which passions the greed,
And, tickles the lustful eyes;
Over ones unheard cries;
To name, we blame and call the writ,
Of God, of destiny, of past deeds to mock.

[54]

The Fallen Awakening

I dont speak of the rise
Rather the fall that hurts;
Every inch of ones self shatters;
Every bit of ones soul departs.
Sold for penny,
Traded for prize,
Exchanged for gain;
Bartered for rise,
Such is the politics of my home
Where slayed bodies stack the marts;
All raccoons gather at feast
All rascals temper their hearts.
Fallen from height
Tumbled from sides
Dropped from sight
Tossed from rides,
Such are the stories of my citizens
Disowned lives breathe plenty here
Because ditched dandies run the show;
Because dumb youths take their share.
I dont speak of the rise
Rather the fall in the abyss
That we see not but feel
That we feel but cant miss.

[55]

The Revised Awakening

Show me the meaning of total shut down
Give me a reason to comply with your call;
Theres more than just what you desire,
Theres less in compliance withal.
Nationwide strikes hail like Christmas rain dears
Instead of hopeful eyes for prizes all flinch in panic,
Raising but our hands to pray in company
Raising but our voices with hymns as they think;
They can deny our daily go about
They can keep our rights and still flaunt
While scheming through dogmatic scam;
When opportunists killed the Ram.
Thoughts, but come, steps do, yet take a u-turn
And hopes rise only to surprise, chance, but one still resigns;
Promises become the commandments long broken;
Awakening spirits get corrugated and poisoned vines,
That growing like Satans refuge thicken its forte
That giving little to praise, more for morte;
While like atypical citizens moved by blank patriotism
All sit back out of preemptive terror of jingoism;
And wait till the cloud of obscurity passes
Removing the fear from daily chores of the masses.
Show me the meaning of total shut down
Give me a reason to comply with your call
Neither do you differ in act and view with her
Nor do you eliminate this scary enthrall.

[56]

The Flaunted Awakening

Gun me down, gun me down
Gun me down I say,
Or else I will upturn to plot your prize
In the poodles poop and rotten maize.
You promise like a bleating goat
Exchange like a monger of oat
And reason like the old senile lady of my barn;
Whos but a beauty sapped toxic fern.
You and the hooker differ not much
I can see except decencys touch,
Rest is negotiable, sellable and retail
With craft yet devoid of detail.
Now you call for a shut down
Then change the makeup white to brown;
And demand a trial of the pardoned crimes,
And break the regular rhymes.
Your ethics is a spoiled pie
Baked in frothy inky dye
Of yesterdays kill in the go;
For power, for rise and for hee-haw.
Shut me up, shut me up
Shut me up, I say,
Or else I will say to skin you alive
And put in the fuming beehive.

[57]

The Cursive Awakening

I dont talk of the lies
I dont talk of the sighs
But those succulent laboring arms
That morning to evening charms
By frothing the garments dying sink
And cymneying out the smoky link
What remain, pass silently by;
Or seek for incense timber dry.
She neighing the door leaves not;
Going so far as to go, leaves not;
Hence, the suffering continues
Hopeless happening ensues
And day after day, halting proceeds
Tears bruise, pain recedes.
I dont talk of the ostrich
I dont talk of the hitch;
But those who can, but not;
Ripping each day, what rot;
The citys streets do fume;
While rest of us rush to plume;
As in hiding will save us thus;
As in deserting will cut the curse.

[58]

Woman, Feminism &

Empowerment

[59]

The Passover Sacrifice

Taxing past as we went,
Foxing there a veiled midwife, perhaps, she were;
Whom our eyes didnt miss to snap a sight;
Whom we thought wasnt paid with ketubah as right.
With her White dazzling hands stretched fully out;
With her wet, numb, rosy cheeks drenched in tears
From Apocalypse of Moses as if she runs;
From running in fatigue as when she turns;
Up unto heaven, her gaze transfixes, yet she walks;
Up unto Heaven, her murmurs become talks;
Nothing of the sort we could guess that had set about
Nothing of the guess we could make to hide fears.
The taxi driver, I overhear mumbling in disgust;
From garments cometh a moth and from women wickedness;
Of women came the beginning sin, and through her we die.
Oh lie, lie, this feigned Unclean lady of modern dye!
In wonder and surprise, we look at each other then;
In horror and dismay, we prize our silence when;
Away, away, far away, our road turns;
Slowly, steadily and gradually her voice burns;
Of her I, I heard no more, nor seen, neither told;
Of her, I thought much in solitude since the Cold;
She should belong to Maimonides released from the covenant of Mount
Sinai;
She should pass the Passover sacrifice to cut the remaining tie.
Taxing past as we reached;
Vexing my mind I couldnt let go;
The veiled woman reminded me of Beruryah;
The Charity of God for husbandmens mafia.

[60]

Simbhat Bat at Home

Taxing past as we go
Today we see a broad desolate road lay;
Where, her woos do not echo;
Where, her footprints do not show.
For, I imagine, she become a silent woman;
For a silent woman is a gift for man;
For there is nothing so much as a maid well instructed;
For there is nothing in instruction so well constructed;
But that of which you and I may always refer to;
But that of which reference will always work too;
For our purpose to maintain silence in the House;
For our House to decree the persistent vows.
Quickly, thereafter, there, I marvel with care;
Will she bear a maid child to her husband, today?
Will her maid child call for a Simbhat bat, at home?
Will the Simbhat bat cleanse her for the Dome?
All around, I hear worries beget worries, not peace, nor glee;
All around were people of my faith, whom I rarely see Entering Gods covenant to bring a flood on the earth;
Entering the synagogue to judge the maid childs birth;
Rather at your House, than mine, she would cry over her loses;
Rather at your place, for her loses, shed run from the Apocalypse of Moses,
But I do not dare say she profaneth not her father
But for profanation, does she deserve fire?
Ten measures of speech though came to the world;
They say, of them, women took nine;
And that Halacha has let your women to break Silence;
And that Minyon has proliferated this noise like pestilence.

[61]

The AtharvavedaOf Marriage

You are blessed with a girl child, dear,
Said the doctor, unaware that a womanHoly wisdom personified is;
And defective, but a misbegotten figure of Mephistopheles.
Whose heart is all snares and nets;
Whose hands are band that frets;
From her God shy away to escape;
From her sinners take no drape;
She is but a Helpmeet for her husband;
She is but her husbands lesser hand;
The daughter of music who sings to fan the Airs;
The singer merely who make no temple choirs.
Doesnt her wisdom enlighten you, ever more?
Doesnt her act of enlightenment show Gods image in her?
Will she continue to be ruled for the Curse?
Will her Curse remain an absolute verse?
I dare not father a girl abound by vow of Nazarite,
I dare not allow my wife to separate from me by right,
Shes affianced by Atharvaveda mantra to me;
Shes too prized to be Blessed, and set free,
Be a mother, daughter or wife, her submission is ordained;
Be a mother, daughter or wife, her cries are but feigned;
She seeks wool flax and works with willing hands;
Shes but precious than jewels to her husbands.
You are blessed with a girl child, dear,
Said the doctor, unaware that a woman is denied;
The right to become minister for her being an Ezer, the help;
The right to claim her as the gender transcendent God, herself.

[62]

The Duty of Yibbum

I am with child, said she;
When Tamar traded for ownership of goat,
There, at once, cult prostitute could end;
There, alas! The Sin of Onan with duty of yibbum to brand.
For she wears a voluptuous body, but not owns it;
For her bodys a sex machine abound by bibles writ;
To her husband must she submit as she would to the Lord;
To Christ as does the church and thereby hoard;
That which is the symbol of prize the scars and pain;
That which scars and pain befell her main;
Are but, coins to bring her food from afar;
Are but, redemption as shes all ships and merchants far.
Doesnt loving your wife as your body denies her being?
Doesnt her being cause yours?
Yet, you call not your wife blessed and praise her
Yet, blessing is what you yearn for everywhere.
Neither was man created for woman, they say;
But, woman for man, much to ones dismay;
Submission is ordained out of reverence for Christ, how ridiculous!
Submission to Christ is equaled to wifes duty to husband, how ludicrous!
Yet, she never thinks of separation from him;
Yet of him she thinks highly, godly, and supreme;
Each well wisher visits to say next time god will give a son;
Each son is a prospect, and girls a parayadhan.
I am with child, said she,
When Tamar traded for ownership of goat;
Concubinage was her destiny socially suffixed;
Concubines do, but embody shop keeping as prefixed.

[63]

Religious & Spiritual

[64]

The Faith
There is less I can tell
How the grip is loosening a bit
From the ground I know Ill
Very soon cut and split.
Much like the pollen in the air
Lost from the sapling flower
Ill sail towards the heaven
Before the monsoon shower.
Oh! This cumbersome life
Has destroyed my purpose to be
Now a moment to regret is delayed
Then will the belief defy.
For you I cannot mourn
Cannot stretch my arms to hold
This fitful fate has all denied
Nothing can at last mould.
One blow has ended the faith
Tempered the smile I had on face
Where the beauty did rule once
Now has neither glimpse nor trace.
From the tree Im now abandoned
Nowhere can I go anymore
Stranded by the single push
Now I strive to enter the door.
Alas! That cannot be
Broken faith can never glue together
Piece by piece it represents another faith
A population of disbelief greater.
August 8, 2003

[65]

The God
Windy flush of your decree on me
Feels there is God beyond somewhere
Alas! This condescended fact violates
My perceptive of you anywhere.
What are you if not light you are?
Touching me deep give hollow pleasure
Everywhere I feel you exist, alas!
My conflicting faith with faulty measure.
Slowly creeping on the instincts tell
Youre perhaps the sweep of life
That barely excites the senses to know
Youre but within me like my Nife.
God! Youre too much Godly on me
Never giving in to my desires or pleas
Each time I meet your resistance
Each time I know my hope flees.
February 8, 2004

[66]

The Sea of Faith

Everything else severs us,
Only the vaulted sky that is common;
Between two distinct bodies as we are,
Separated by thousands of miles keep no one.
From there your breath
Like the autumns wintry wind blow
Orbiting the globe to me, it comes;
I dont fend it off, but merely know.
Though, I cant see you, cant hear you
But, I know and believe it to be true;
That you love and still seek me
From this eternal cloister and its crew.
I can understand your innuendoes
No word is needed to break the silence
This distance too is no harm for us
Our love can sue thro any fence.
14 November, 2002

[67]

The Resolution of the Fire Fly

Flying like the fire fly
See how it burns in your heat
That momentous resolution
That indomitable conceit.
Ah! What a joy in self killing
No repentance of any sort to die
Surely love is much cowardly to try
For men becomes so low-spirited to lie.
Falling with its burnt wings
Like a tormenting soul it desires
Not a touch of healing source
But a flight in to the fire of all fires.
That cooks not, nor burns but lights
The Milky Way, the galaxies, and the nights
Around its glow like a dust minute
How it mourns to cling with the sprights.
Its a man with focused devotion
Whose love lacks the lust of earthly joys
But the want of His wealthy homage
In the abode of heaven where hoorcoys.
July 8, 2003

[68]

Before Cremation
Eyes beset with monsoonal shower
Pouring all day and night without stoppage
My heart remains to quench its thirst,
Panting a drop amidst the flowage.
All swept by the flood of wintry rain
Down withal a sea from nowhere appears
Feeding the nature its precious drops
Not a single though for my tears.
Row on thou boat ofisher man
Slowly against the push of furrows
My parting heart shall see you catch
Those little joys as fishing goes.
Shore to shore filled with watery silver
A mirror is set before the forest green
All peeks to see its face there
Save thou faade unseen.
Raising from calm often a hiccup
Often a tear running down the cheek
Intensifies the thirst, I burn inside
Not a single drop makes a shriek.
Like a fish out of water, I jump
Hoping to find a pool for a home
Where swimming would be easy
For me a place lesser than a tomb.
Raining with the monsoonal gorge
And overflowing the river terrains and sea
Your heart seems to have plenty to give away
A little, I wish you gave to me.
One simple sweep of thy watery love
Would have ceased my eternal thirst
After thy coming into my life like a joy
Before cremating from a rock to dust.
December 9, 2003

[69]

War & Peace

[70]

By Their Rude Guns

By their rude guns when they shot
Boys of my land bored the brunt;
Whose pulverized selves staind to lie,
Their foe had started a hunt.
At the gate in watch they stayd
While boys thought fight was over
From behind a torch started
Burning thro all thats in cover.
Running deep forest wide
No hide-out came to greet;
Naked like a sensuous whore,
One by one was fated neat.
Still though enemy without
From all-sides sought were
As if snared in puddle for pray
Long parched for blood theyre.
Thundering like an astray cloud
Lost from its clan restraint without;
Found audacity to pour and wet
To flood the city of all about.
Their hailing mortars remind
The war for freedom is still on,
Seeking lives of poor innocents
To pay off the mortal loan.
August 18, 2004

[71]

PEACE: The Metaphor for US Patriotism

In the calm of his self-wounded patriotism,
His blood lay stagnant, fizzy and cool;
Passing-by cavalries witness the poised death
Pulverized for days, puffed in the pool;
While believers say hes owned by martyrdom.
His ice-cold body in the froth - long clogged;
Do not by nature please the vultures at pray
Nor the appetite of Satan increase;
But little worth to world it does in play
Serve to excite civilized effort once slogged.
This amazing narcissism knows no frontier
For religion, color, race it calls to fight;
Once bread and butter had devised a cause,
Now under-earths resource snatches the right
And all rush to hegemonic wear and tear.
PEACE is the name they shield their motif with;
For love, for care, for humanity, they move;
To plot perfect carry of nationalistic strategy;
And meet goals even if it means to life disapprove,
For medic, for food, for support and such myth.
His skeleton bare of skin is a reminder
That which you own between the heaven and earth;
Like a prize on casinos table tries luck,
Behind White teeth a strike of hideous mirth;
A winners face appears as another finder.
November 18, 2008

[72]

Boys of My Home
Boys of my home in short trousers
Did one time the games play;
When ruddy with enemys their hands werent
In their happy youthful day.
Alas! That era of seventy one,
All laughters into clamours became
In pursuit of ownership
When enemys cavalry came.
Belying the greenery of my land
Carpeting slaind bodies in the path
Red and gushing gist were mixed
Upon the ever sucking earth.
Those boys didnt know what joy?
In such a game did run;
Save their trickling bodies so right
For the flag of sorrows spun.
Morning did follow the gorge
Red in stingy mellowed beauty
Upon this breadth less Jamuna
Travelling thro to the boundless sea.
Their song went waving in water
Past the riverine doors of heaven
Giving the annoyance to my enemy
And freedom to my starving raven.
The play ground became their bed
The final time they wore the blanket
Green in the natural look and comfort
Her bosom swelled in happy yet.
June 1, 2004

[73]

The Campaign
The call to dig a wall
Wafted thro every hearts
Which raising a band of warriors
Towards calamity proudly departs.
He, who plays the Satan
Raised Beelzebub and Mephistopheles
Hence, from the Deads a cry begun
Save the livings from the hypothesis.
Who would make a meaning of this?
When the lust for wealth is flooding deep
In every mind a wish to atop runs rife
While the cost is to put the rest to sleep.
Cloud of doom mongers like vultures
Often to strike dives in so fast
Before their knowing, a chunk of them is gone
Such is the power of greed and lust.
In the brethren faith a vacuum shows
Which slowly widens its path
While their half in crisis thrive
The rest craves for a piece of earth.
They, who found riches of the world
Blessed are they in luxurious abode
Never feared a coming of thief
A campaign meant to curve their road.
Now, when the vultures have gathered
Fear runs thro their veins, still
Hoarding and storing upon ones poverty
They prepare the field to kill.

[74]

The call is to wipe off the race

And clean the brethrens belief
Though from disbelievers came
Our brothers have offered relief.
This will weigh a tremendous blow
Brothers will cut their relations too
The Satan will triumph over his victory
Without warring with you.
Let us, therefore, become one
Thro our faith of oneness and show
A band of brothers can calm the flame
That rises to fuel the foe.
A campaign in the search for Peace
Let us begin and mark our words
Thro their cunning, they will spy
Only to meet your sharp swords.
March 8, 2003

[75]

Peace at Gun Point

At point blank range, they come in peace;
To restore the right of people in my state;
To rewrite history on the old furniture slate;
While everyone praises the Masterpiece
His chivalric gene reminds of the late.
About the late, no words wish to help
Tears chide Father of man and withdraw;
Not that fear has lost its hee-how;
And trepidation is wanting of yelp
Rather the shame in meaning, we know.
What of Peace, the metaphor for hostility;
A perfect masqueradee over hideous purpose;
Even non-natives learned the entire prose;
About oil, about slinky slobber and less about me,
Swapped over death spiting mechanic hose.
Canonized Peace hovers in the smoky sky
Burying disfigured mates of my clans;
High in the altitude rise with your plans
Before He tempers more with souls to fly;
And in humanitys end humanity deny.
November 18, 2008

[76]

Farmer of My Rightful Estate

Farmer of my rightful estate
Long youve pulled the plough
Against this arid Floss of dry
With your wrought animals to grow,
Crops of season before monsoon is set
Alas! Of those efforts littles met.
Temper stricken summers sun
Transcends its ray of doom,
Fertility drained off these lands
By the horrible sweep of the gloom,
That brief stay of rainy-dribble last year
Reddened the streets in fresh gear.
Got you decayed hay of corpse
Upon whose greasy smear rot,
Thousand daffodils spring to eye
With sunny blaze of the days lot,
Where hopes renew with vitality;
Where joys depart to far off flee.
Dig no trench in her heart of stone
No plough shall draw deep furrows
There lies the sordid horror
My martyred soldiers, my heroes;
Whose clamour sound a lullaby
Whose blinking brings nightly sky.
I revere the songs of the crickets
Those ghostly bands of music sweet
Floating in the air keeps alive
My memories of her cordial greet;
Through her eyes of divine flare
When I mournd to long stare.

[77]

In ravenous gorge did she spit

A flurry of rubicund squint in rage
From her bosom like a fountain
Dawn the curves of mazy sage,
She gave away those bodies she sucked
Those soldiers whom fortune lucked.
November 2, 2004

[78]

The Concoction
The concoction of desires to mar
Has engaged keen bodies on the track
Rolling vigorously to dice with death
That threatens to put a check
Before my will, which restraint without
Stirs in pursuit of a confirmed place
In your heart, and bosom and you
To deny me that they cut the lace.
My will to be has been killed
The eau of consciousness put to cease
To extradite me is Right, so they say,
Solely believing you marked the crease.
Whereupon, the dice of fate rolls
My chance of going far too deep
Penetrating the rough fathomless chasm
Of the earth in search of night to sleep.
This drowsiness of lust and greed
Cannot distract my pursuit of light
From the dark depth of cosmic coffin
I shall see it soon ignite;
In a continuous sweeping flow
To burn us all off this temper
Teaching us rage nothing learned us
Save to design and put to slumber.
March 21, 2003

[79]

The Iron Birds

The birds of seasons have long gone
Flying somewhere in the arctic without knowing
That some iron bodies have taken their path
Polluting the air and vowing
As they nigh the deserted village of Baghdad
They drop heavy elliptic shells below
Where poor innocent lives bear the brunt
And soundly demise with the blow.
The terrain that once belonged to the elephants
Today lay open to the iron giants
That graze not, nor do they depend on trees
Walking like the collected clients
In pursuit of domination on ground and air
They march on and fling loads of terror
Which everyone seeing defies acknowledging
Such is the nature of comedy of error.
Deep in the forest birds dont chirp
Nor deers hide from fear of predators
Save the bodies that come to invade
With thundering songs of their zelators.
I see no wings but the stretched steel
That delves deep into me and atop the sky
Roaring a triumph of barbaric jocundity
Hails sparkling metals to life deny.
The child on her lap cries out of fear
The louder it becomes the greater it defeats
The joyous moods of those bestial foes
Whom fortune favoured amongst the petites;
Learning so much they so many forgets
That weighing on fulcrum their end nears
To strike where resurrection may residue
Forever, hoping a miracle poor lives cheers.
March 29, 2003

[80]

The Song of Barbarism

The song of nightingale, I no longer hear,
Save the music of the iron birds,
That throwing down on earth bangs loud
A song mixed with cries and roars
Setting ablaze the night skies before dawn
With such mighty blows from air
That deep down in here aches me, I hide,
Sobbing has made my eyes go dry
Deserted terrain of my face mourns for rain
The monsoonal clouds pass overhead
I blankly see at the shattered bosom of the child
Lying ruddy upon the final bed.
Whom did such an innocent soul pose threat?
Whom had he assaulted as they claim
Such a tiny flowering truth of God as him
Whom could he have taken to death?
March 29, 2003

[81]

To Topple they Came

To topple a nerd two nerds came
Begun a war and a bloody game
Which no one did please, save him,
Whom the martyrs inflicted the same.
In the name of peace war returns
Democracy cried their tanks and guns
Dying innocent civilians go, save him,
Whom it pleased to see the burns.
Scorching heat coming of the blows
Those roaring machines never slows
Firing since the first, save at him,
Whom the Satan everybody knows.
Upon the wings of B52 liberty flew
The altitude where lark couldnt pursue
Democracy was poured in the shape of bombs
Having seen enough still fresh seems the view.
Clamours that cracked the earths bosom
Mothers tears that made trenches fathom,
The multitude of their assaults never ended
Like the incessant waves thrived to loom.
Eyes of the wonderers remained fixed
Seeing so much yet they seemed perplexed,
The venomous quagmire deepened their foot
Where they marched it sunk and vexed.
From defeat a victory sprung so well,
Which no one had predicted turned a hell
Upon those preachers whom paradise shunned,
For their treachery and menacing spell.

[82]

O my cohorts rise to smile and bear,

The joy of victory has found the steer
To roll forth in pursuit of the home,
Which is brevity in the face of the fear.
To topple they had come though
Now to shuffle back they will go,
This has been a win for us so far
Everyone ascertains you must know.
April 2, 2003

[83]

Tread Slowly
Tread slowly upon my grave
Your footsteps disturb my sleep
Your giggles pierce my ears
Your incense poisons me deep.
Speak no tongue save mine
That by birth you came to learn
Sing the song of my mother
Which she sang to the lantern.
Calm your footing over the meadow
Here lie the brave souls
Giving their lives who earned a home
Live peacefully begin no duels.
Do not redden my cloak
I have taken pains to clean it green
Ever since that rubicund play
Many horrible sights Ive seen.
Feed no gun with bullets
For when they shoot cries atop the bang
Behind their creepy smoke appears
The truth of the hatreds fang.
Parade no more upon my bosom
I feel the shake which crumbles the walls
The foundation is collapsing
Listen to the martyrs calls.
Calm the guns that roar
Day and night and night and day
Incessantly slaying to top the score
Stop reddening my surrounding clay.

[84]

Voice no Guns
Oh! Voice no more the guns and tanks
Their blasting roars cover the cries
That raising after the demised ones
From the relics before reaching dies.
Atop the mountain no flicker of light
Nor the eastern sky ablazed by sun
Oh! God, in their solitary darkest night
Show them the ever smiling moon.
[Send a flame to light their mun.]
Hail no more those elliptic bodies
That touching the soil in cynical jocundity
Freights the inhabitants of the worse
And brings darkness in their lee.
Call me a hermit who loves to sing
The song of oneness, the lyrics of joy
And dance over the beats of nature
Build by the divine for a wonderful ploy.
I see you truly no different than me
Why do you then seek my blood?
Living under the same vaulting sky
We know what deeply flood.
March 29, 2003

[85]

Brandishing
Escrowing the man who once ran
Upon the sentiments of poverty felt people
The governing voice was his alone
Whom your jingoist merit didnt couple.
Thus crushing beneath those heavy rovers
That bangs on sight of a commotion and smoke
In triumph of a madmans jocundity
What seems a display of power, and broke,
The promise of ever specious relationship;
Between two entirely unorthodox beliefs,
Though by far had conjoined you and me
Now with your denying seek relieves.
Your disfigured appearance scares me too
The man you were, not anymore seem to be
A sheer paint of cosmetics, what hides the wrong,
And falls beyond the perceptive of me.
Distilled and yet a mixture of both, hate and love
Never meaning to give away you move on
Such formidable fear you pose to all, despite
Yourcoloured swearing to help me push on.
How I rise against the might, which you became?
Assaulting me from behind and front
Then brandishing me with the wounds I get in war
You show some care, while I bear the brunt.
April 7, 2003

[86]

Patriotism, Loyalty & Devotion

[87]

Bangladesh: My fate and flaws

This country can breed no soldiers
Nor men brave enough to restore
My mothers purity is being violated by them,
To whom she offered as a home before.
Her daughters get raped now and then,
Her sons die over small dissensions
Leaving my mother bleeding profusely,
The rising heads crop thro seasons.
Though brothers by faith and racism they are,
Yet to stab at each other they let go no chance
For as cheap a reason as pelf and rice
Upon the fingers of aristocracy they dance.
Each home in my home is threatened
The people are terrified and worried therefore,
No Salam, nor Barkat, neither Rafik can turn,
From that sacrifice which brought us this clamour.
Bloodshed and mass slaughtering is the rampant game,
Mistaking the fight for freedom they colour the streets,
Such ignorant race that realize it not,
Fighting no enemy they face so many defeats.
Who needs soldiers to spoil the budget?
When there is no fight or enemy at the door,
But my brothers and sisters and kith and kin,
Who cutting my healthy body seems to enjoy more.
And when I take a step forward they pull me back,
Hunkering into my affairs they find faults,
My effort to raise the name of my nation fails,
As to shut my voice they point their frigid assaults.

[88]

A springing flower they hate to observe,

But it is the same object for which 71 had occurred.
That horrible leaf of my history book still haunts me,
When death angel hollered on top and machine guns hunkered.
But, tell me are we free yet, to breath fresh air?
From suppression, repression and all sorts of depressions,
Tell me are we through yet, why the guns still roar then?
Who is the target of its bullet? What are the reasons?
I hear a mother crying, but no one tells me why
Her son lay in the hospital bed, surgeons keep a distance,
Neither a dress to wear him last goodbye
Nor a sermon to placate the haze, so whimsical and intense.
What is to become of such a land?
Where betrayal is the promise and oath for survival?
If this world exceeds to see will bear witness, Im sure,
The end of a civilization beneath the soil withal.
Not a trace to speak of our deeds will remain,
For no deeds as great as the freedom we had earned
From century to century will pass on to say
Bangladeshis had the courage which the rest had yearned.
January 13, 2003

[89]

City of Dead
Clamorous blustery circle in the blue,
All men at work, busy themselves to discry;
Silencing her son, she burns the empty pot
As if she cooks, a mouth watering pie.
Relics of her ashes, prove she feigned,
Across the lamppost her tent blew away;
When her man, toiled to earn a bread
She and her daughter fetched the day.
O city of dead, learn with me to sob,
The tears she sheds, could be yours too
Deafen not yourself in melody of rejoice
Crowd the fair to nil the chances, if they do.
November 7, 2005

[90]

Bangla is Bleeding Again

Bangla is bleeding again, I wonder why
I thought the war was over thirty two years ago
When three million lives were slaughtered
Their women raped, tortured and raped again,
And, their youth brutally murdered in broad-day-light
But, that was a war, and we had an enemy too.
A huge stream of blood drained through the channel
Covering every nook and corner of the valley, it stained,
Bangla was seen as if a newly wedded bride
Emerging on the map of the world, to sue permanence,
Giving you the language and a free land you fought for
Where spring after spring happiness rained.
Look at that flag, study it carefully
That is no sun, never can be, that red ball
Yes! That is the mark of blood drained by your forefathers
To earn this magnificent land and your tongue
Upon whose bosom you are playing Holly
You are shedding each others blood, regardless of the call.
Mothers are afraid to send their girls out,
Fathers worried for their youth, what is this fear?
Why is there no safety for us in this independent land?
Why do you wish to cut my throat? I never meant any harm;
Im your own brother try to realize me
We suckled from the same breast my dear.
How many times do you wish to wed our motherland?
With how many lives this time? For what?And why?
Stop this game of killing, lets play a fair game
In which there is a winner and there is a looser
Give your best to win us all through to this complex game
Which is of honour and making a point not to die.

[91]

Boishakhi Litany
Boishakh has come with fresh vigor
Tossing and flinging the tall mango tree
From side to side though it rocked it
And yet from its root it couldnt free.
Such might the tree did show
Against a might far greater and cunning
I wish they had seen this too
That baffled me with a stunningDisplay of will and courage.
But, its children almost all fell down
Where I stood a mango or two were
Lurking to be found eaten and sown.
Being tempted by the rich rubicund glow
My hands reached for some
I watched the distant drizzle and ate
The tender pale and numb---Piece and to thank the tree in turn
As I went to plough the seed
Right beside her mother I found
The soil ruddy as if did bleed.
Out of the cut I had made so many
Beads of red balls gushing from below
Flowed under trance of Boishakhi Litany,
When stumbling upon a root I sprained my toe.
I heard thro that terrible storm a voice
That cried louder than the thunder boomed
Told me not to unravel, not to sow anymore trees
But leave this sacred place of the doomed.
When at once a boisterous noise, not from above nor nothing like
thunder
Shook my frame, I saw that fire blink
And with it came another cry; perhaps a mother
Seeking out her son who was gathering mangoes in the woods
But why did she sound like weeping
I couldnt understand my mind was at the end of its tether.

[92]

Hey Boishakh:
To Celebrate or not to Celebrate
Like the turn of pages
Like the mushrooming of ages
Episodes part, we grow old
A year goes-by with stories untold
Perhaps, like always, to renew the course of knowledge,
Since childhood school to the adolescent college;
Scores will reach high above three quarter of heaven,
Where meeting the summit, we fall little short of seven.
The course of knowledge never quite in black and white
Nor of pain, success or struggle in public sung for right
Yet, jubilant by the fresh vitality of Boishakh - they party
What not, but for the pictures of defacement & charity
To tribute the vengeance struck fool of thundery raid
Limited in lines and brush each one said
Only of the hissing surge & swell at night
And roaring light of skys sight
All that makes up the awaited Boishakh
Simply shattered in the path of have not & luck.
Like the sifting of paddy from rice
Like the sacrifice of goat for price
A life is found, many more are lost
Whereupon each one gather at a toast
Some doubt if elation of achievement is the cause
Or the ruins & relics of Boishakhi pause
Either ways, celebration obscures the sorrow in the spree
Of many who pass to promise a safe tomorrow for me.
April 13, 2008

[93]

Lines Written on Dhaka City

Cries rock the calm of this city
Blasting in magnitude apples wrong
Those stressful peddlers lie down
In response to the death song.
Bearded men disprove their faith
Islam became the organized evil;
Its followers take the pride to pass
In suicidal mission to take the fill.
O man of ill-intellect retrospect
The shredded satin will fashion your attire
In quick time youll near the loss
Without enemy youll submit to retire.
The increase of knowledge is the cause
Ah! Such a cause, filthy in its etiquette
Promising life, death renews at every step
Words falter, ideas lag meeting the fate.
Are there no wise men to initiate first time?
Walking through the untroddengalis
Take the nation higher still to the rank
And prove successful as true Bengalis
O my utopia, how I miss? the cause,
Polluted from the womb, we all pollute
Despite a desire to vary, by fact of plan
We share hand in hand the loot.

[94]

Life, Existence & Reality

[95]

A Fallen Girl
Dropping her eyes like a fallen girl
Before my presence was felt
Slowly walking upon my heart
Long before sun rise she left.
Some said she brought us shame
Some claimed she was a whore,
But, none had desired to know
To whom she had opened her door?
As I breathe her footprints fade away
Like a storm blowing in the valley of sand
Removing all the traces and relics
While I crave for her hand.
With me she had cropped a love
In the silence of night that found us joy
We promised each other a life
That everybody did annoy.
Barefooted like the deluded soul
Holding his hand thinking of me
There she walks upon my heart
I cant do anything but calmly see.
March 16, 2003

[96]

Loves Tavern
As cheap as twenty takas
For the whole night to devour
With elite tipsy liquor
The enfolding cave of Mehnaz.
Two slender poles softly unrolls
Like the petals of a newly blossomed rose
A well so mystic opened, depth of which no one knows
But my shaft that paid the tolls.
Twenty plus spells, still demanding for more
How much can she endure this Frictional Game?
How far am I to go still, as when I came?
There it strokes four.
The bright pierced my eyes, I woke up
Her bare self lay by my side
I see her, turn away and see her hide
Just flesh, all she gave in a cup.
*
*
*
Loves tavern they called this place
Where twenty taka was enough to satisfy,
By lovelessly loving the girl with whom, we lie,
Until the sunrise in fits of carnal craze.
October 21, 2002

[97]

River Shunned Her Body

River shunned her body raised
A question for everyone;
Will she find a grave for burial?
Or lay with funeral undone?
Poor the doom beset with her
Promising high left betrayed;
Like a husband raping his wife
Leaves her faith strayed.
Ending life was the purpose
Which her fate did allow;
Alas! Her decaying body so pure
Ventures to enter earth below.
Those beside in tears burnt eyes
Are her parents so helpless;
Cursing the ways of divine
Rudely deny their own mess.
August 21, 2004

[98]

The Flower Maid

Three pence a flower, she cried
Long before Id known the voice died
Passed my car amidst the row of cars
I saw her with no one beside.
Flower maid! Flower maid, shouted a man
With bouquet in hand there she ran
Three pence bargained she for her flower
Two split minutes scene from my van.
Her shantys hearth glowed by her
Three little siblings grew there
With her aging into a lady
There was a risk of high danger.
February 4, 2004

[99]

The Wedding Night

Groomed in wedding dress,
Her scarlet veil drop so low,
Long before she could see,
Her man starts to plough.
That barren field of youth,
Stained in icy grains
Punts to catch with breath
Upon the rosy plains.
The sunny spots of joy
In two seventy suns grow
A proper seed of marriage then,
Comes to earth in a blow.
Love without her body knows
Those breathing lives are hers
From her blood dribbling down,
To increase the mortal curse.
Tears become rain for grains,
That her faceless man sows
Upon her fertile bosom so pure,
Upon her sighs she bellows.
13/05/2004

[100]
Remarks by readers
Gaynor Morgan, For me you are a classic poet. www.Poetrybox.com
Kathleen Killian, Your poetic voice is strongIt sang to me. A Poets
Forum
Sara, You have got me with this poem! Its excellent. I really like your
writing style Its very elegant. I normally try and give suggestions, to
help people out. Because I know I always enjoy constructive criticism, but
I cant think of what to say. A Poets Forum
Thomas Powe, Let me say that your use of the written language is
extraordinary and I am glad you share your work with us. Chief
Information Officer of Edventure Inc.
Emy Star, It amazes me how you can sculpture the English written
word. Member of PoetryBox.com
Gaynor Morgan, What a wonderful outlook you have Shamim. Who
knows maybe when we are long gone from this earth; people may take
heed of your wonderful words of the Human Creed. Member of
PoetryBox.com
Vivien Linton, The Forgotten Carcass has been selected on merit.
PoetryNow, Forward Press, UK
Helen Davis, Editor, In Dyes of Magnolia Im sure others will
appreciate it as much as I did. PoetryNow, Forward Press, UK
Frances Deanne Mearl, I think it is absolutely from the heart. It's got
a lot of soul in it. Member, PoetryBox.com
Nurah, your poems are really good, sensitive, passionate and worth
reading. Reader, PoetryBox.com

[101]
About the Poet
A.S.M. ShamimMiah is regarded as one of the classic
poets in modern literary history by Gaynor Morgan.
Though Bangladeshi by birth, he is an English poet,
novelist and educator. Miahwon the Second Prize in the
Poetry Contest held by International Library of Poetry in
2001.
Miah was born in Singergari (a small village in Rangpur, now a part of
Nilphamari) in a landowning and prominent religious family. His father is
Muhammad Abdul LatifMiah, a retired diplomat, author of religious
books and scholar. His mother Akhtara Begum Laily is a homemaker.
Miah's grandfather was a charitable landlord who financed religious
projects, such as a mosque and two shrines in Utter Singergari. Miahs
ancestry traces its origin back to the Sarkar pedigree in Southeast Asia,
whose last name has been changed to suit the connotation.
The third child of the family, Miah started to write poems at the age of
thirteen, when he was a seventh-grade student. He received his early
education first from his mother and then at a variety of schools in
different countries, which he visited with his father on diplomatic
missions. Among them were Angelique School of Islamabad, where he
attained his Secondary School Certification, and Islamabad Model College
for Boys of F-8/4 for Higher Secondary School Certification. Later on, he
obtained his Bachelors of Arts (Honors) and Masters of Arts in English
Literature from Karachi University, Pakistan, in 2002.
Miahsfirst poem, A Drop of Water, appeared in a Pakistani daily newspaper
called The Dawn and later again in The Jung when he was 19. It was
originally published by Miah's brother, who wanted to surprise him.
Miah's reputation as a writer is established in the United States, England,
and South Africa thanks to online publications of a number of his poems,
in which he tried to find civilized consolation for bloodshed, to promote
world peace, and to explore the themes of spiritual tranquility, menacing
intimidation, and human love.
The authors poems were written in English. His poetic visions owe much
to the lyric tradition from the late middle ages to 19th century and its
views of the relationship between man and God. Much of
Miah'sphilosophy comes from the teachings of Islam and from his own

[102]
belief that God can be found through personal introspection and service
to others. The poet stresses the need for new world order based on
rationalistic human values, the "humanity for the sake of human beings"
and preaches the religion of humanity.
Between 1980 and 2005, Miahtravelled widely, accompanying his father
on his diplomatic missions. Between 2011-2014, he worked as an
Associate Professor of English at Green University of Bangladesh; Master
Trainer at the British Council, Dhaka; and also as the Founder and
General Secretary of the Inter-University Teachers Learning Forum
(IUTLF). Currently, the author is working at the University of Buraimi, Al
Buraimi, in the Sultanate of Oman.