Human Rights

Human Rights, who are you?

Poems

Human Rights, who are you? Privileges,
that one can buy with money and influence!
A set of ostentatious words on a charter,
signed by all of humankind and then forgotten!

Human Rights, I wonder, where do you stand,
have you always been on the winning side,
such as in world war two, when Auschwitz was punished
but Hiroshima and Nagasaki were not!

I have seen you at Jallianwala Bagh,
where your face was trampled by the soldiers’ boots,
yet you stood up with a sheepish grin on that face
and shook your soiled hand with Brigadier Reginald.

I have seen you training and arming too
the Mujaheddin at the tribal hills
around Pakistan to repel the Communists
and then renaming your creation as terrorists.

I have seen you in Baghdad, from thin air
inventing weapons of mass destruction,
paving the way to invade the oilfield and then
turning yourself deaf…

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Deliriums of Love

A dear old poem revisited …

Poems

Dedicated to my poet friend Iffat G. Shirazi:
(http://www.facebook.com/iffat.shirazi?fref=pb)

Her charms and beauty, soft
lure me towards
an abyss of insanity
like a mellow afternoon, sweet
lures the weary mind
to become nostalgic
and reminisce,
almost drooling over
the hazy past, half forgotten
and the other half too distorted,
still thoroughly ingrained,
like a blathering lunatic.

Her odor afloat in the air
urge my senses
to grasp it for dear life
like the floating debris
grasped by the drowning men,
shipwrecked on an ocean,
too vast and wide
for the sake of their life,
too often at the cost
of sacred humanity.

Her sparkling eyes
and the sharp contours of her face,
the rich coffee of her skin
and her lush, scarlet lips
yield a storm too violent, within
like a wild hurricane above
the warm current
upon the surface of a sea.

Around her my senses
become small and…

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Who Am I? (2)

A poem I wrote 3 years ago …. Still it is true but who knows for how long!!!

Poems

Dedicated to M Z Hossain Palash (Kaka) And Shahin
——

I know I’m no poet or a noteworthy bard,
I just need to write down these haunting words
to make them go away, for until I do it
I cannot rest from a raw and blunt agony.
I know I’m neither suffering from insomnia
I just need to stay up alone at nights
for not a single neuron in my weary nerves
would turn away for their love of the silence then.
Once the noise of life arrives at dawn, to sleep
I can close my eyes and shut the remaining senses down.
I know I’m no rebel nor an utopian great,
an outcast may be but hardly a threat.
I cannot take most of the mundane things for granted
but I can neither ask anyone to be myself.
I know I’m no Socrates the great Athenian,
though these gadfly…

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The Maid from India

Human beings are not born with equal rights, at least not in this world…

Poems

Human beings are born equal, regardless
of their social standing, color or race…
Go and say that to the maid from India
whose complaint has made two democratic
nations to be at the opposite ends
of a malicious diplomatic row…
But maids have no immunities like diplomats…
Go and declare that to God and let us know, how He reacts…

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