മരിച്ച് കൊണ്ട് ജീവിക്കുന്നവരുടെ
ശവമടക്കായിരുന്നു
മനസാക്ഷി പണയം വച്ചവരുടെ
നീണ്ട നിരകൾ കാഴ്ച്ച കാരായി.
അവരുടെ മന്ദഹാസത്തിൽ ചൊരിഞ്ഞ
കണ്ണീരിന് മാംസ ഗന്ധമുണ്ടായിരുന്നു.

മരിച്ച് കൊണ്ട് ജീവിച്ചവരുടെ
കുഴിമാടത്തിൽ
തെളിക്കാൻ പനിനീരുമായ് വന്നവർ
കണ്ണീരിന്റെമുഖം മൂടി അണിഞ്ഞിരുന്നു
പനിനീരിനാവട്ടെ വരണ്ട ചോരയുടെ
ഗന്ധവും

മരിച്ചു കൊണ്ട് ജീവിച്ചവരുടെ
ശവമടക്കിൽ
ജീവനോടെ കുഴിച്ച് മൂടിയ നിശ്വാസങ്ങൾ
അവിടെയിവിടെയായി പാറി നടന്നിരുന്നു
അവയ്ക്ക് കേറി കിടക്കാൻ ഇടമില്ലായിരുന്നു.

മരിച്ചു കൊണ്ട് ജീവച്ചവരുടെ
ശവമടക്ക് കഴിഞ്ഞിട്ടും
അവരെല്ലാം ജീവിച്ച് കൊണ്ടിരുന്നു
ശ്വാസവും മാംസവും മാത്രമായി...
അവരുടെ ആത്മാവ്, നിശ്വാസങ്ങളെ
തേടി
അലയുന്നതും അലമുറിയിടുന്നതും
അവർ പോലും അറിഞ്ഞില്ല.
എന്നേ മരിച്ച് പോയ കുറെ പാഴ്ജന്മങ്ങൾ

നമുക്കവരെ പെണ്ണെന്ന് വിളിച്ചാലോ?

Mirror mirror on the wall

Mirror.. mirror

BROKEN TOYS

The derailed train..it's boggie blackened
Teddy with its ears torn
Dolly with an eye missing
The fancy car ,four wheels
Lost to time
The chimp who stopped dancing
The monkey with its drum  dangling
The bunny in distress
It's nose pulled out
The kettle with its handle broken
The bulldozer and bikes with damaged
Engines
The barbiB with its soiled clothes
The piano whose keys refuse the music
The bongos with its skin torn off..
All strewn around the house
In sharp contrast to
My Dolly,teddy,train and cars
Sitting neatly in their place
Of glassed showcase in the old mansion.
Not a pleat or petal out of place
Even After all these years.
I call my kids and show off
And the elder one replies.
"Look at their faces mom
Ours  with all their fractures
Are more happy than yours!"
The unused perfect toys
Ageing in their lone childhood  ..
And I suddenly feel happy
For my children.
They were free enough
To play and break their toys!!!

LAZIN

THE AVALANCHE

A
volcano hidden deep
Camouflages like a dying ember
Pushed back  again and again
 Into the cellar of hidden memories.
Only to erupt ferociously,
The hot lava sliming down
Hungry savage
Devouring all good dreams and thoughts.
It's chains ,entangling me in moulds
To be hardened till eternity.
I wake up screaming,only to be ignored by the lonely night,
No comforting hands nor soul.
The cicadas busy with their nocturnal trysts,
Ignoring my helpless whimper
A good dream,a good night and a good sleep
Have all become a distant height
I thought ,I  had trained myself to scale
But futile was my struggle,I realize
Only to be caught in the avalanche
Of memories sliding down!
Not enough to burn out the embers
Of the hidden volcano.

 Versification

The lush greens,the husky dusk,cool air
Lulls me into poetry
I settle down on my couch,
The pen poised on its paper
Like an agitated soldier
Waiting for the commands
To take its first flight
Into the field of poetry with its thoughts
To conquer those ludricious words .
She seems to lose her appetite these days
What must be worrying her?my teenage minion
Moms dates are up for routine visit to the docs
He has to get his policies renewed
Cooking gas has to be booked
The tiny one keeps losing his books
I better go meet his teachers
Oh! Dear,I forgot to soak for the batter
And the horror of tomorrow s breakfast
Will really matter
Visits and marriages, birthdays and deaths
Gifts pending, dresses to be stitched
A whiff in the air
Burnt and brunt,the forgotten weight of the  cooker,jolts me up
The realisation, the need for pressure in life
to unburn
The unseen weight that keeps me sane
The barren lines,the ink unspent
The poised soldier,the poor pen
Frozen at its start!
Me  finding solace in Coleridge
'Unwritten words are sweeter'!

......night butterfly...

The hands resting on me
Grew in weight
The soft snore grew rythmic
Against the flood of night
Filled with cicadas and glowworms.
Its my world now..
Waken with the thoughts of nothing
I free enough to dance to my thoughts
Shed my masks
One by one
The barren me shout out and dance
Naked ..
I have burst from my cocoon once more
To live my life of the night butterfly
Lemme swirl and sway
Before the first rays of the wicked sun
Casts its spell upon my beautiful wings..
Swivel it up and wither them out.
To bring back those heavy layers of
Feminity  scales unto me.

Lazin...Midnight26/5/18

Asifa

#littleredridinghood#

She had gone to the forest,
the jackals more brutal than the real ones,
her cries unheard ,
no soul to choke the hell out of the jackals,
her hood bloodstained in the abode of some blind god
The only consolation
Her ponies reached back safe.!!!!its a world for the animals!
the black bucks did have their share of justice..
its a different story
the hunter and hunted  from the same species.
what an irony?and we thought hunting was banned!
Was it lust that was satiated?,even lust cannot take such a devlish form..
Only hope ...the sedatives worked and she knew nothing!!
the cry of the shapeless stone
 that took her last breathe
reveberating in the forest
and the shaped stone of the powerful diety
used its divine power and turned itself blind!

 Mortal sins

"Father father"
she cries in the confessional
The long white beard
merely nods its head.
"I have sinned"
her tears burst out in the holy silence.
The voice of the twelve year old quiver -
with the thought of hell fire.
My maternal uncle tore my clothes
The paternal cousin swept me off my feet
The neighbour who baby sits me
dug his hands between my thighs.
"I have sinned, father, sinned!
purification is what i need
to save me from the hell fire.
 I come for none
but the sacrement of penance.
He suddenly remembers-
He has to colour his white beard.
He whispers through the netted screen
"from me the faithful obtain absolution
and in my room is absolute salvation"
The bedspread witness the ritual of salvation
The supressed whimper of a helpless child
The creek of the bed
the gasps of lust
the mourns of estascy
The rosary with the crucifix
a silent witness
to the tears streaming down
those innocent eyes
 mirroring the heavy showers
at the window blinds.
Months later
another sin cries in the corridors
clearing its throat of the amniotic fluid
The umbilical attachment lost to the orphanage,
Its has to wait its turn
for the eternal salvation.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



The hourglass

Big breasts
wide hips
narrow waist
the Golden ratio
Venus put to shame?
The irrational number  of the greeks.
the hourglass figure!
she sways herself into their wedding night
A glass of milk clasped in hand
He proudly eyes his chosen wife
and struggles to lift
his torso
off the acapulco.
An hundred plus is not indeed
a small weight to carry around!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noah s ark

Noah sets his chisel aside
his creation a source of admiration.
All is set for the end
to begin everything anew
The apocalypse has risen
--the last revelation
the Armageddon set for the finale
cataclysm guaranteed long before
only the best of the species in the ark.
'Now hurry! Namaah
collect your sons Ham, Sham and Yem
The ship Safina is all set.
Their wives come scurrying along
and Ham and Sham ,but not Yem
The rains are pouring ,
the water soaring.
Heaven and earth has let loose hell.
There is no escape but the ark!
The ties are loosened, the mast flooded
Yet all are safe, but not Yem.
Oh, you disbeliever,
cries Noah
the time is short,
take your oath , and jump in fast.
but not the terrible Yem!
Namaah wails...
she who bore three ripe sons,
cannot lose, even one.
she jumps into the turbo waters,
none, but she can save her son.
Only the heart of a mother knows
a passion  that no deluge can sink.

And thus Namaah , goes down in history
 shunned and sneered , an infidel with lost  victory.

                                                           The Chiaroscuro

The poverty we faced
united our problems
and we loved those travels
in carts buses autos rickshaws
when our bodies radiating love
brushed  shoulders in  warmth

The umbrellas that hooded us
in its vain attempt to shield
from the heavy rains
showered love till we were drenched.
our bodies by then twining into one
singing the unsung  song of love.

The house with its thatched roof
tyndallling the sunlight torch
awoke us from that  single  light cot
made heavy with the struggles
of our loves labour -  
the soporific love against the weltschmerz

The chiaroscuro hung on the loving wall
A happy witness to all.


we were one against all
one against odds
we were superposed
that no might could part.

and now-

the umbrellas are torn away
by those heavywinds of wealth
The big SUV belts us apart
 the sun , the showers , the heat
a distant myth to our rich world.

The bungalow that marred the sun
ends us at the distant dreams of our
family cot, made with finest wood !
The  lugubrious carvings on it
immure us in our bedraggled love!

The chiaroscuro hanging on the cold wall
A dumb witness to all.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DOWN THE VALLEYS OF TIME

The greying hair I noticed today
hidden amidst the blacks
fails to jolt me to the present
to accept my youth that has passed.

The moonlight filters through the windows
no- not disturbing my sleep- for i sleep not
The soiled vessels and blackened pots
wait for me when the day arrives.

The floors to sweep, the soiled clothes
the cobwebs and dust to clean and clear
And me the fly caught in those cobwebs
of life's  never ending love and litter.

The teeth now  has lost its lustre
The enamels exposed to the jaundiced yellow
like little toy soldiers, they had once stood
neat and polished in life's perfect symmetry.

The hollow cheek sunken deep
leaves no clue of the dimpled past.
It was hard to believe that those drooping ,sagging ,
breasts were once marigolds in their blooms.

Those fingers which had housed
those painted beauties of shaped nails
now gone numb with soap and soot
weep in those wrinkled , hardened palms.

Yet that impertinence ,the impudence sticks on.
The body in its journey , leaves the mind behind
in search of doors without keys
A vassalling  to the dreamy minds.

The torso has started its retreat
to deaths valley, down corridors of time
The mind still moving on and on
in search of new pastures and plains.

Me- caught between these two travellers
Knowing not , to accompany whom?
Will they ever meet in their travel?
if then- Where will i be?
 or rather
What will i be?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DELUGE

The river remained like a squashed eel
An eyesore to the ferry man
Who sat hunched in the dry ferry
He was scared ...deadly scarred
The overflowing men shrouded in black
had beat him black and blue
For he had tried to stop the mining pillars
into the heart of the sparkling water s.
Dead fish lay scattered
Turtles gasped for air
The  glimmer  the sun sent across
was the last sigh of bedraggled river
The ferry man was frightened
 the curse of the naiad and nymphs
The men had flayed it alive
Raped the breath out of her, defenceless
And he, her love, could not  move a finger.
And soon they found him
Heart burst open in the mushy land
The ferry , mediator of his eternal love
Bobbing back and forth,
Unbelievingly
In the filthy remanents of her waters.
And then all hell broke lose.
Like mute heralds
The skies flashed it lightning
The water unleash ed from heavens
 awoke her from her slumber
She swelled and roared..
Like a troubled horse which lost its master
the ferry moored to its pole by chains...
She held it to her bosom and swirled
And took along with it
What was  once called the City of God!

PESHAWAR
The blind guns
Spat fire at their dreams
the flowers withered in their buds
the  many untold stories
their green flannels and grey trousers
reddened with the stillness of death
YET-----
The fire set ablaze
Sure will not destroy---
rather enlighten all
---towards more dreams
                     more stories
                     more knowledge
To stand, To unite, To fight
                                                 Lazin.M

..  .. waiting to be born....

Here lies the house of the dead
Souls awaiting salvation..
Caught in those twists and turns of black and white
not sure of their destiny
Will they curse their creator
Who left them half way,
captives in the yellowing pages?
They who live in those three unfinished novels
By now acquainted with one another?
Those lying still from 5years to months
Those dwelling in those crazy poems and short stories
Though completed
Can boast no pride
For they still stand hidden from the world outside.
A set of naked white sheets await their turns hopefully in vain
For that single stroke of the pen.
 Dear ones ,to you I owe my apology
I am the Genie captivated in that bottle
Of job,home and responsibilty.
When the all-pervasive time snaps it open
Only then..
Then  will you be reborn!!