Monday, April 28, 2014


For today the world doesn't revolve around Mecca,
For tonight the journey is not between two cities,
For this month, no apologies for Islam,
And no extra security check at airports.
For tonight, Love is Atlantic's Blue
For tonight, Love is Vienna's Spring,
Sacred arias in a Rome Cathedral
Or the morning Azaan early Autumn.
Throw away your Hijaab,
Cast away the Prophet,
Wear my perfume
And chant my name five times a day.
Forget what they say in Koran,
I'll tear away its pages from your skin.
Shaarab is no sin with you,
For your words which kiss my name,
Are like Persian cups holding wine.
Drive away the Ullemas tonight,
No Kaaba, No Medina
My Mecca is between your lips.
Nothing is Haraam with you,
No Bandishein,
No one a Kaafir. 

Saturday, April 5, 2014

On Mornings like These

On mornings like these,
I tend to bury my minutes in smoke,
Minutes which tick by,
With every door my poems knock,
And every rejection they face.
For you are across the ocean,
Working in a lab with a Prophet's vision.
And I, Frittering my youth,
In useless causes,
Impossible revolutions for same-sex love,
And rights to prevent laborers losses.
On mornings like these,
I plan to write my songs,
To right my wrongs.
On mornings like these,
Do I scribble novels,
Which won't see the light of day,
And whisper words which,
You will never hear me say.
On mornings like these,
White lillies wilt on young graves
For mornings like these
Beg not to break into days.