here's to life

I love assuming the role of wind.
Faceless. Artless.
Breezing into your life without a guise, sending your hair flying in mute surprise, stretching your smile acres wide... And then leaving, without leaving a trace behind.

the smile of a faceless child

I, live in stories
Of left handed trees,
Men with wings,
In glass bottomed ships.
I live my life,
Lost…
YOU, bid life
on my unfinished words
wondering and waiting
for the trunk to open,
the soul to stretch for an answer
And find the faith to feel

Our youth today

Bina khwab andhairay mein khonay do
Mein soa raha hoon, mujhay sonay do

Din ki roshni mein aag dikhti nahee
Jo bikhar geya wo ghar mera toa nahee
Seya akhbar surkh honay do
Mein soa raha hoon, mujhay sonay do

Qanoon samjh kay koi kya karay ga
Seyasat parh kay koi kya banay ga
Mujhay apnay qatal pey hasnay do
Mein soa raha hoon, mujhay sonay do

Progressive Poetry

Cyber world is huge, yet all I was able to find on the life of Abdul Ahad Saaz, is this small image attached here. This is how we, the connoisseurs of art, show our tolerance for anything which is untainted with media hype.

One of his famous works is uploaded here. Read it and give voice to your silence.
http://urduindia.wordpress.com/2006/07/13/abdul-ahad-saaz-nazm/

His fearless approach has bleached a lot of stereotyped modern poetry that we are used to reading these days. So, consider yourself warned as he uses words with such a brutal honesty that you will require gallons of courage just to read them!

Planned farewells give in to spontaneous settlements.

The idiot inside has always been driven by disparities, but is now learning to walk on a side. Completely visible yet not whole, he remains addicted to the inevitable decay. There is no doubt in his head that he will be castigated for eternity, because his crime is blatant integrity. But instead of reacting, he comfortably waits for the dark robe of night to take over. In an attempt to hush silence, he has unknowingly awakened a palette of colorless chaos in his head. Stillness is red in his head and evolution merely a homecoming to his abyss.

neutralized

Silence is much preferred, especially when you have Pink Floyd’s Dogs barking like crazy in the background. The spectators are, however all dead. Only the song doesn’t care. It hangs around you like a menacing ghost, conjuring illusions of contempt till it develops into a pitiful defense mechanism for your mind. And you are eager; too damn eager to spend your life chasing its elusiveness and find answers to questions you are not even sure of yourself.
This song was to be your exit. Perhaps you don’t need the flight anymore.

dont think anyone can say it better than....

I can’t live the button-down life like you. I want it all: the terrifying lows, the dizzying highs, the creamy middles. Sure, I might offend a few of the bluenoses with my cocky stride and musky odors. Oh, I’ll never be the darling of the so-called “City Fathers” who cluck their tongues, stroke their beards, and talk about “What’s to be done with this Homer Simpson?” – Homer Simpson

my flight

looking at the world through kaleidoscopic eyes, chaeye, tang, electricity, an honest open smile, a surprised hand resting on my knee, the sound of children laughing or is it us, letting someone else drive all the rides, walking to the sound of trees, dreaming with open eyes, listening to the music of silence, taking the long way home- and living, just living life with a joy that never seems to die.
there is no end to it.
there is nothing beyond the magic.