POEM_: One Must…

…repair one’s own shoes,
not demand
that the planet be covered
with leather.

So said,
a Dalai Lama.
But, why is it,
that for me, my desires
are no less than
sacro-sanct?

Why is it
‘My Way,
Or No Way’?

Have I read
too much of Ayn Rand?
Or is it that
in this age of Mammon,
we are all brats,
never men?
Those, that have the courage
to fight their fiercest rival,
their own Self?

- owais

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POEM_: I and My Desire

I, and my desire
we often talk –
each claiming to be
greater than the other.

The never-ending debate,
always inconclusive,
makes us experiment –
with each-other...

Sometimes,
I give in, to ‘him’.
And he, the
ever-unappeasable brat
inflating his expectations,
always,
never even thanks me
for accommodating him;
he squeezes me,
till I give up, in exasperation.

At other times,
I dam him up –
“Control him!”, I command myself…
…with only one result:
each passing moment,
makes him stronger, and he,
one day, breaches the dam.

Always winning,
he has the classical
dilemma, of a virus:
Kill the host,
and you die with it.
Thus, my weakness
in turn, weakens him –
and I win.
For a while,
I can live a sane,
rational life.
But only, for a while…

So,
where does this leave us?
Does this stale-mate,
have a better ending?

Happily, probably, yes:
We now, have a pact –
We duel no more:
each will try, instead,
independently,
to rise, above
the other…

…

…thus, each of us
downgrades the other
from a foe, to a mere
rival. May the best
‘man’ win.

- owais

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POEM_: If I Had not Loved You So

If I had not loved you so,
your distance
when with you
would not pain me thus…

If I had not wanted
to spend every moment
of my life with you;
I would not, now,
see every moment
with you, a pain.

But if you were not meant
to test me, at my most intense,
why were you ever destined
to come into my life?
Like the zillion others,
why did you not flit in
and out, like a butter-fly:
Beautiful in,
forgotten out?

Were you here
to test the very peaks
of my passion,
the very depths
of my despair,
the very last
of my patience?

Or were you here
to bring me the knowledge
that life can best be lived
if only lived free…

…from the encumbrances
of desire…

…even,
from love?

- owais

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POEM_: An Inferno Named Desire

Put out
the flame of desire,
and I stop burning.
My suffering ends.
But,
what do I then live for?


Or else,
choose the other option:
I burn, and burn well,
like a forest fire
ravishing all that I find
in my way…?

But,
what do I then, leave in my wake?
Pain, lost life, ugliness?
And, I too
die in the end…
…with nothing left to burn.

With my temptations, my fuel gone,
the inferno of my desire,
then eats itself.
Eats me.


Which was a better life?
…and a worthier death?

- owais

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POEM_: Of Success, And…

You ask me
of my biggest success
in life. It’s been you.
Of course.

From you,
I learnt love.
With you, I knew passion.
For you, I left the world; from you,
I came back to it.

I discovered, how much I could care,
what I was willing to give,
and what not,
in order to catch that mirage
called Love.

I created new limits,
I invented a new self.
I discovered a patience
within me, I never knew existed.
I waited for years
for one, just one
lover’s kiss from you.

You kept your distance.
You made love.
And yet,
it wasn’t love.
You never liked the touch of my body;
never got rid of the guilt
of having made love to me.

With you, for you, I have known
the greatest feelings
the greatest thoughts, ideas
a man is capable of. And for you
I have imagined pains,
I would not inflict on a foe.

You have given me
great pleasure, happiness, the feeling of
almost ecstasy.
And you have given me the pain, the agony
I would not have, otherwise, known.

You never said if
you loved me.
You had no plans for our future together.
You never touched my face.
With your fingers
you never combed my hair.

Yes, my dear,
you have been the biggest success of my life--
And the greatest failure.

- owais

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POEM_: Induced Schizophrenia

I wish you, my love
a very happy birthday.
And, many happy birthdays
to come.

Do you know, that
it has been six months
since you saw me last –
and even today,
when no one bothers,
but I,
to remember your birthday; in your eyes,
I see no spark of love, for me;
no glimmer of hope, for me,
to still believe
that we have
a future, together.

I thought,
you were the love
of my life.

Perhaps,
it is so.
But am I,
the love of your life?
(Or even,
a love in your life?)

Evidently,
it is not so.

But who will convince
my stupid heart,
my ignoramus desire?
Evidence, it seems,
counts for nothing.

Am I destined
to forever
burn for you?

Or,
can I cut away
that large part
that humongous part of me,
which does nothing
but pine for you?

Can I
induce schizophrenia?

- owais

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POEM_: All Mine?

Rivals,
I have defeated all.

But that,
which I thought a diamond;
and spent a lifetime polishing-
turned out to be
a mere stone.

- owais

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