In Quest of “Missing You”

What is meant by “missing you”? How grave is the word “miss”? The introspection is doing the round since I have read one of my buddies’ custom message on GTalk which read "She was the prettiest one, save a sad song for her. Benazir we will miss you."

Yea, as you all know the charismatic leader has been assassinated yesterday in Rawalpindi. Sad enough, the poor lady appearing to be the meatiest part in this post is nothing but the catalyst to delve deep into the sea of “miss u”. Sorry Ms Bhutto, to “use” you even after you have left the mortal world. May your soul rest in peace. Amin!

me: lol

Godspeed: ??

me: benazir missed by an indian- be-nazir act indeed

Godspeed: beauty is not bound by boundaries and LOCs
all this after im pro musharraf

me: there r 1000s of beauties like benazir
she was intelligent. pretty. assassinated

Godspeed: but there aint 100s of Benazirs...

me: am shocked.
thats all

Godspeed: am not ...
she had the guts to live thru all the heats..
and not chicken away...
leaders are different...

me: but to be missed by a common Indian...balderdash

(meanwhile, mirza’s take on the issue of missing Miss Bhutto :

me: aaaargh
she is dead. assassinated. am shocked. buty what more? she was never from us
"She was the prettiest one, save a sad song for her. Benazir we will miss you."
this is wat one of my pals has written on his custom msg
……………………………………………………………………………

mirza: ask the pal to go and fall in the deepest darkest part of hell
benazir is waiting thr)


Godspeed: ye its human too.
the person u keep seeing on tv and read about in evry daily.suddenly u hear she is dead...
sounds a little more realistic than falling in love with some spanish actor ........

me: that makes u miss her

Godspeed: unheard in the wide world of english speakers

me: dint know the profundity of ur immature self


Godspeed: ye .......
sachin retires .....
wont we miss him
ganguly dropped

me: sachin will be missed by all the cricket lovers

Godspeed: dont we miss him

me: benazir will be missed by common pakis
but us?
dont be ridiculous

Godspeed: you are a very closed minded buffon
expand your horizon...babe

me: u missed another "o"

Godspeed: how can u question whether i miss her or not...

me: coz of this
"She was the prettiest one, save a sad song for her. Benazir we will miss you."
think rationally

Godspeed: ye

me: she was definitely not ur every nite fancy
but bernal is
most of the time

Godspeed: if we can listen to songs like Candle in the wind ...

me: i enjoyed his presence on screen

Godspeed: thts ur problem

me: dont dare compare him to that corrupt woman

Godspeed: i used to find her charismatic....
man ... u dont identify doesnt mean noone does..

me: even i find her charismatic, that doesnt mean we indians r goin to MISS her

Godspeed: To miss someone you cant have any conditions applied
wat corrupt...

me: yea wat corrupt

Godspeed: she is a courageous leader

me: even we r corrupt

Godspeed: ye evry one is

me: oh yea courage comes b4 corruption
be courageous to be corrupt

Godspeed: ye sure
ye
the first female leader of an islamic state..
take some balls

me: and y do u hav prob wid my falling in love wid the mexican actor?
yea bernal is mexican not spanish

Godspeed: i dont have problems with your third world dreams

me: oh 3 rd world
and pakistan is...in the 1st rung
wow

Godspeed: i never said wat is wat
just said third world

me: coz ?

Godspeed: pakistan is more in news than mexico
more powerful as a nation

me: mexico is third world state
yea coz of laden
how honorable

Godspeed: a little more GDP than mexico

me: plz dont bring economics here

Godspeed: third world is economics

me: u may now say swiss r culturally rich than indians!
i dont care

Godspeed: richer chocolates

me: mexico= frida, maya, colors, tequila, life
pakistan= veils, army rule, dark ages

Godspeed: it is ideally natural to identify with pakistanis than with mexicans on the other side of the world

me: how fascinating it is to hear that u second our eighbour

Godspeed: i have a lot of paki friends

me: so hav i

Godspeed: and i talk to them over ph..
wanna find out how much they are like us..

me: that doesn’t mean we will prefer the state to Mexico

Godspeed: i don wanna know bout Mexico...
simple i kno lots of pakis

me: then dont compare it wid that al Qaeda land

Godspeed: i kno the situation there
pakistan is not al Qaeda land

me: so u put pakistan ahead of mexico
how logical

Godspeed: then bengal is a naxal state

me: so?

Godspeed: any day
my neighbours

me: bengal isnt run by some general

Godspeed: if pakistan plays any other country i support them
ex general
get ur records rite

me: here u can ogle at women...poor paki men, all they can do is to be lost in the darkness of veils

Godspeed: thts misconception

me: oh ex.....i am so happy to know

Godspeed: pakistani majority is like us
its a few islamic radicals

me: that doesnt mean we will bring that country ahead of mexico

Godspeed: and benazir & nawaz sharif was trying power on the radical support

me: that doesnt permit u to insult my admiration for vernal

Godspeed: the radicals dont want musharraf
musharraf is himself very western and liberal

me: plz i know the contemporary history of paki

Godspeed: insult...... vernal
not interested with some culture i donno
these are as good as hebrew to me...

me: coz u r hardly interested in oder cultures

Godspeed: im not unrealistically obsessed like you are
im not
i sell to ppl of my land

me: wet dreaming benazir is so rational....i never knew

Godspeed: i don have time for anything
wet dreaming.....
it aint so .....even if

me: u do hav time to be a part of a brawl for winning a lost case

Godspeed: doesn’t matter win or lose
our neighbour
thtts period

me: who cares

Godspeed: neighbour ********************** global culture *******
be open to ideas and respect others likings

me: plz
dont try to sell me ur ridiculous custom msg

Godspeed: tui jerokom 1000 reasons dite parbi y benazir
i can also give 1000 reasons y carnal Bernal

me: charnal bernal
wow
i like it

Godspeed: so dont think u r rational ..........
everyone is ...

me: ufff...u r going a diff way
i watch bernal's pix
i mean movies
benazir wasnt a part of my life

Godspeed: i like benazir as a courageous leader

me: uff abar shei katha
u admire her, respect her. i understand

Godspeed: a female face in the radical islamic world

me: but how can u miss her when she played no part in ur life?

Godspeed: a leader who embraced death for her ppl
tho i feel musharraf is a better leader for pakistan
how can u say she hasnt
she taught me a lesson
nothing shud deter you from pursuing your goal
a small lesson but a lesson

me: and u will miss her

Godspeed: tht cud make my life different

me: i doubt if u really mean thw ord "miss"

Godspeed: miss
simple word
miss her in the newspapers
miss the issues
miss her on tv

me: mis(s)understand

Godspeed: miss about reading about her in the forthcoming elections

me: how praiseworthy

Godspeed: thts ur mistake with english
miss is a simple word

me: benazir is bestowing blessings n love on u from hell

Godspeed: fuck off .........

As soon as Godspeed uttered the four letter word, it was he who disappeared! Must be the supernatural power of Ms Bhutto…a modern, smart, intelligent lady with occidental outlook can hardly bear her ardent fan across the border using abusive language…that too to an innocent meek vulnerable soul.

After coming to learn about the heated episode:

mirza: u know in this heat, u missed out poor rawalpindi local(Mr. Shoaib Akhtar).
He def deserved a mention

me: hey i was thinking of him wen i heard of the venue
i will blog it
but mirza honestly tell me
if u dont fancy benazir, how can u miss her being an afghan cave dweller?

mirza: is that a trick question?

me: na
just reply that

mirza: you don’t miss someone no cause they are dictators or some hosh posh politician..just how close they were to you

me: exactly...
thats wat my point is
how can u miss her? u may feel sorry for her. but miss...thats a big word

mirza: anyways..probably all he needs is a quite thinking over and he will be through

me: and he is a senior copywriter!

mirza: well lets start with a resignation!

- The Shepherdess

For Swas, For us

Dansez gitane
Dansez bohemienne

Lalalala lalala
Fire on my wine
Knives in your eye
Foot flints the snow and flings
Showers at the starry sky
Throwing winter’s blossoms
Waltz of mist and light.
lalalala lala la la la

Hold my hand, dance into the sky
Lala la la
Your face peers from a hundred mirrors
Trapped in glass lakes, I still
Dream of you
Dansez!
Leap over the fire to the pole star
And the dragon’s mouth

Torches in their brackets, spilt wine
Rotting on rose stems, grapes
Tendril your hair

Dansez gitane, dansez bohemienne
Spend your youth or die
Timeless time flies
Snowflakes melt on my nose
Stamp your feet on the snow
They rise to star the winter sky with
Flaring breaths of lost passion
Lalalalala lalalala

Lalalal
Clap ur hand
Beat ur drums
Shadow princes rise and die
Once upon a dreamtime
Breaking your tenthousand sleep
Words of sigh swim across the sky

“love tonight, or die…

-- Scio semper Amo

On va chanter
On va danser où
La parfum de la pluie luit.

-The Shepherdess

FAREWELL

My bags are packed …
I took everything I could
But some things are left behind.
I couldn’t bear the load
Some memories are scattered here and there
Few words of love
Some abuses you hurled at me
Uncomfortable silences

I couldn’t take away my tears
They fell off my eyes
Like orphaned raindrops
And you didn’t wipe them dry
U were looking away….
So I have left them behind
Don’t worry they wont stain your floors.

I think I lost my smile somewhere too
Looked around everywhere
Rummaged through all our dusty rooms
I couldn’t remember where I had kept it away
I guess you had snatched it some time ago.
Maybe it’s still there with you.
I don’t think you will treasure it
So let it free sometime

Oh yes I also left my dreams behind
And some unfulfilled wishes too
But of course I couldn’t carry my expectations with me.
And my desires just refused to contain themselves inside my bag.
So I threw them all away
Out of the window of our room
I saw them falling like feathers
Slowly being swayed by the breeze
I guess they wanted to be rescued
To be saved and secured…
But I let them go
You never cared for them anyways
And what would they do when I’m gone?
I saw them lying broken on the streets
Weeping silently, they were crushed by footsteps
I saw it all
I felt like a murderer
But you had murdered them many times before.


Another thing was too heavy for my bag
Lots of unanswered questions
That kept darting across my mind.
Why didn’t you care enough?
How was I a sadist?? When I got all the hurt???
How was I the cheapest?? When all I asked was love??
Why did you break all those promises that I gave my all to keep???
So a bag full of questions I locked inside a cupboard.
They kept shouting for answers
Maybe someday you will find their answers
Now all your time is yours, so just spare some for them….

And finally there something else I just couldn’t take with me …
I placed some below your pillows...
I left some on my side of our bed...
I sprayed some like perfume all over our home.
Maybe you will hear them at night like a melancholy lullaby
Maybe you will listen to them when you miss my voice
Maybe you will feel them in your silences
Unsaid words I’m leaving behind
I know they’ll reach you when I’m gone
Unsaid words….
That I love u
That you will be missed
When you are tired of your noisy music
All I ask is just try listening to them…..
Unsaid words
Like a story never told…
Like a song never sung…

Well then, its time to go…
The bag is ready, waiting by the door…
I’m leaving…letting you go…
I’m walking really slowly…
Quietly, towards the door…
I know you won’t call my name …
I know you won’t hold me back…
I want to run back and hug you tight
For one last time ….


But you were already enjoying your music
So I slipped away unnoticed
Like a flimsy musical note….

by zaid al baset
© 2007 by Zaid

Wait

she wanted him to come....
she really wished him to...
she knew he wont...
she waited still....


by zaid al baset

THE LIGHT-BEARER

His plans seemed crazy, but crazy enough to work.

He remembered that night as he lay under Michael, pinned down. Michael, as fierce as a spearing lily, the very likeness of the one he loved.

He had loved God. No one understood that, so on that crazy night, he had made that crazier plan, to take heaven (did he think he could succeed?), to storm his throne, to fling him down on the floor. To tell him he was wrong to anoint man. Lucifer, light-bearer, handsomest and wisest of angels. Why did God spend so much time over puny man?

Man had eyed him. Always so easy to tempt, always bored with the perfect. In that garden where he lay. Lucifer wanted to hurt God…

He saw god flogged. He saw him whipped. Crucifigo, crucifigo, he had veiled himself in red, and shouted from the crowd with the voice of a harlot. God lay like a rose on snow, and his blood trailed down the thighs, just as Lucifer wanted.

As a lily and a rose. Blood brought the end of winter.

Adam had been so easy to take. But why did God kill himself?

For three days he had waited. When he saw the empty cave, he had screamed. He wanted God to live. He needed him. He hated that need.

And those processions in the circus. Bent over, they cried, the wolves leapt upon them, and the lions. Catarina on the wheel. Sebastian pierced by darts of fire. What lash of sin could compare with the lust in their eyes as they were hit, kicked?

Outcastes who had defeated Lucifer.

Sweet defeat, he thought, as he lay under Michael's spear. Transfixed, he had been fascinated by the liturgical vestments. The rush of blood as the censers moved.The bread turning to flesh, the wine to blood. Heady. As a summer's storm, a whirlwind. The spires lifting their hands like an evening prayer.

Alleluia, alleluia, he cried out with the voice of the archangel..

He had always wanted to be defeated. He had watched his love even as he had snaked into Adam.

That was the craziness of his plan, its magic. His reason, his insanity."Let my soul burn as incense in your altar", he cried.


He would wash himself with hyssop.

And God would lie him down in the green pastures, he would gambol with the sun.

-Scio Amo

Dancing in the drizzle,

Ablution with moonbeams,

let Luna abort my past, Papa

Let the new 'I' arrive, Luna.

- The Shepherdess.

my perfect stranger

Silence steps slowly, softy
Along with the crepuscular skies
Phantasmagoric images dance
In front of my tired lonely eyes
Shadows perform orgies on dusty streets
Desires are crushed with every heartbeat
And there I walk among the milling crowds
Catching glimpses of me on glass doors
Reflections ask me is it you?
I look away bewildered and blue
No I will not lose myself tonight
No! I promise myself I will not look at me.
I want to believe that reflections lie.

Ah my pretty stranger walking next to me
Do u know I have been thinking of you.
I know not who are you yet I match your footsteps
And I feel so safe and secure.
Are you thinking of me too?
I know we may never walk together again.
I know I wont even remember your face
And yet a secret we have shared
Do you know I lost my love tonight?
Can’t you shed a tear for me?
Oh pretty stranger wont you even try
You know love left me to walk alone tonight
But look I found you my lovely stranger
Wont you hold my hand?
Can’t I hug you and cry?
Wont you so much as give me a sympathetic eye?
Oh please! At least a comforting smile…
Can’t we walk together forever in this stolen moment?

Ah my pretty stranger you left like all others do.
You walked away straight and I had to cross the road.
I turned around to take one last glance at you.
Goodbye my lovely stranger
Wish you love and happiness
Thank you for the gift of hope you left me with
Somehow I know we will meet again
Just that tomorrow you will have a different face!

by
zaid al baset
© 2007 by Zaid

Love

Love, as we all know, was invented by novelists – and that too of the rather middling sort, whose chief-clientele are the petit-bourgeois, who contract unhappy marriages for the sake of social conformity and gild it with the name, happy domesticity….and those who therefore, men and women alike, enact their fantasies in the broken-eared yellowed pages of novels, and their reality on broken beds with mosquito nets over them, a cheap substitute for a royal canopy --- it is to please this clientele, and defraud them, that novelists invented love. That is why no self-respecting maestro ever gives a happy ending to his novel – imagine Anna Karenina knitting wool in her old age – it is vulgar. Love is crass, it is loss alone which gives a certain grandeur to man. Man is never, I assure you, more beautiful than when he is mourning. So the catholic church calls the death of her savior – the Passion. She exults in her sorrow, as a bride for three days she mourns her bridegroom, taken away by the soldiers, hastily buried in a cave. She celebrates it in the eucharist – the doctrine of the real presence – it is not a commemoration of death, but the loss itself, a sacrificial orgy that recurs with frightening beauty, the real body and the real blood offered for consumption, the bridegroom presented in his death to the bride, a body of roses and lilies, for the flowers do not toil, they merely are beautiful in their everlasting sorrow. So too did Venus mourn for Adonis, the handsomest of men – and Cybele for her Tammuz. The presence of the lover is best felt in his absence.

Love creates unending paradoxes. To use a demotic metaphor, like Newton’s third law of motion….if you love someone, they will not love you back ; but the moment you fall out of love with them, or better still ignore them because you feel no passion for them, they will chase you as moths to a candle. One of my friends loved a man. When she did not show it, he chased her ; when she confessed her feelings, he left her. Vulgar, but true. That is love. You can never quite repeat the magic of the first meeting, because it is not love that we crave, but the mere sensation of tasting something new. Replace a man with a new lace shawl that is latest a la mode, and a woman will not regret it, replace a woman with a tacky gold watch, or better, a stimulating detective novel with enough magic-eyed femmes fatales, and a man will forget his thousand-confessed passions. Love is nothing but our craving for something insubstantial and vague, that which makes us suddenly wake up from sleep and feel sad….it is frightful because we do not know why it is that we are sad, just a strange fatality that hangs over us, over some more than on others, giving even quite undeserving individuals a sensitivity that is almost a martyr’s halo. One doesn’t need to be a good man in order to be an artist, one only requires that queer morbidity that ruins life and makes it meaningful. To die is to live, to love then is nothing but to desire desire itself.

All love therefore is doomed, if satisfied in the short-run, it leaves us unsatisfied soon, if unsatisfied, it is still a slave’s fetter, a lost traveler’s mirage. For how can one capture desire itself? It is a mere magic bird that sings a song and flies into the neverending forest, it is a wolf that howls to the moon to ask her not to fade away. Love is the feeling that is left when a feast is just over, that indefinable flame that burns us, refines us, and in the end destroys us.



But I have spoken of mere human love, bound by the twin ropes of virtue and temptation. Above that is a love which the ancient fathers called agape, and the latin monks, caritas, . but feebly translated in English as charity. It is the sun that vivifies, the seraphic flame, loving which, man loves all the world, lost in whose beauty, he sees all the world as beautiful, and so loves all, yet is faithful to his god. For all we see are mere shadows as Plato would say, or as shimmering darknesses under a candle-flame, pointing to the Beautiful, yet never reaching it. It is the tragedy of modern man that he worships god but loves man, man who is a mere nothing, a symbol drawn on parchment, an Egyptian god with the face of a beast, yet we seek to see god in this strange being, fervently worshipping him more than all the heathen nations….we seek god in man for we love man with all the fervour that a nun loves her absconding God.

And so must modern man forever be sad, for what human being, howsoever comely or gentle a friend she or he maybe, ever incarnate the power and the charity of godhood….beneath whose dark luminosity, whose cruel affection, even the angels shield their faces with wings (for who shall behold the face of God, and still live?)…and cry, incessantly, in unfulfilled ardor

Sanctus Sanctus Sanctus
Dominus Deus Sabaoth.

~~scio.

He increased the pressure. It still felt good. And he couldn't control it. Like a young bridegroom who had just come out through the door. Or someone running. Down the paved streets, the brick lanes, a kite in front of him, he chasing the kite, never looking who he bumped into.

He had never felt so free in his life. He wasn't answerable to anybody now. He was finally doing something which gave him pleasure. Him. Not others. Not his family, friends, lover, no one. Just him.

He pressed the blade. 'He'? He wondered. Who was pressing it? A part of him told him not to go on. The rational part -- he thought with a sneer. The part that told him to guard his correspondences, use euphemisms, be diplomatic. Oh yes, he was diplomatic. To the point of obscurity. Everyone said so. He had fooled so many, Even himself -- how cliched.

The sudden sharp pain jolted him back. Who was he? Who was inserting the blade? He was fair, exceptionally fair. So for this occasion he had specially chosen a black satin sleeve. His red lips. Ya, he looked good. But who was he? Someone was pressing him on. Asking him to find out more. To know -- what if? What if he went on? How much could he go?

~~scio.

Santa Lucia

Don’t you remember the fights we had?

I miss you so

Together we fought the world

And fought each other will pillows and thrown clothes

You told me I could never catch you

I told you you will fly away

Now I stare at the empty cupboard

Even our shoelaces were tied together

Who will fly kites with me?

I never knew where you ended, where I begun

Saturday afternoon at the pictures I would play on your tresses

Felt you tremble under my palm

Let’s sail to santa lucia

Where the white sails furl

Lets; know each other all over again

Where the blue waters pray in penitence before the endless sands

And the waves spray the halcyon’s nest

Meet for a cup of tea

(I’ll know you by your bandaged thighs)

it’s never too late to miss you again

like after we met the very first time

and you won my heart before I could bat my eye

you couldn’t ignore the language of my eyes

let’s sail to santa lucia

to santa lucia where they make they brew the best nights.

~~scio amo

pain

It’s a tumultuous night
Dreams have faded slowly
Tears have been rubbed away
Insecurity is at its vertiginous height
The heart aches unbearably
Despondent desires hold their sway
The air is restless and confused
Thoughts swirl in a dark room
The mind pines for the shards of peace
Which has been shattered and abused
Love has butchered the vulnerable veins of a hapless heart
The spilt blood carries the pathetic pain to every cell
The prostrate body twitches with a start
Helplessness enshrouds the battered soul
Trust and faith have been broken apart.
The lover has played a malicious game
Deceit and betrayal has been his forte
Excuses and defenses have become far too lame.
The despotic lover lives his life
Ruthlessly he had labeled his beloved a compromise.
Paranoia of the tyrant’s infidelity had plagued the beloved’s mind
The belligerent beloved craves, sulks, pines, frets and waits
The sly lover taunts, mocks, tortures and neglects
The beloved‘s fatigued mind flirts with the idea of suicide
Death cajoles loss to take its side
Distrust chokes the beauty of love
The baleful beloved is caged like a dove
Fettered by his own emotion
A victim to his torturous lover
A hostage to his irrevocable need

So, in this unending tumultuous night
The beloved seethes and bleeds
Fresh wounds lacerate the soul to the lover’s delight.

By
Zaid al baset
© 2007 by Zaid

The Night


The naked moon pines for the warm embrace of a cloud
Stars coruscate in their solitary splendor
The sky plunges into the depths of darkness
The tress stand solemnly witnessing the age-old ritual
Orange lights illuminate a soulless city
Cars swerve in a flash of psychedelic lights
Tired legs tread home for vacant solace
The end of a cycle begins
The night cascades like thick dark mane of a goddess
Oh night ..the lonliest among the lonely

Two bodies turn against each other on opposite sides of the bed
A man shivers in delirium inside the deep tunnel of love
A woman whispers sweet nothings on her beloved’s ears
Two bodies entangle in a sacred embrace wrapped in a warm blanket
The sweet smell of sweat
The swift and staccato breaths
Two men discover sacrilege in a shabby hotel room
Hearts beat wildly
Lovers moan softly
He waits to be pressed against the wall
She can’t bear to rise and fall
A half filled glass of wine is kissed by red wet lips
Lilting music makes the wretched whore sway her hips
The night enraptures like a lover’s ballad
Oh night.. of searing desires..brighter than the burning flame
Oh night of blissful passion…when lust has lost its rein

The black widow devours her mate
In the brutal act of fornication
She is cursed to be the prey and the captor
The owls caste an evil spell
Ghosts in our fearful hearts dwell
Wasps and moths are drawn to the glaring lights
They reach the cresendo of their facile lives
The cat’s eye shine an emerald green
Street dogs howl at the corner of an empty street
Bats fly around searching for something to eat..
The night coils like a venomous snake
Oh night like the inescapable web of the black widow spider
Oh night of secret mysteries… magic wand of the true magician

The nights wraps us all in the light of darkness!!!


By
Zaid al baset
© 2007 by Zaid

He pressed the blade on his wrist. There is nothing more jeery than a failed suicide. There's a certain glory in death, a grandeur -- think Cleopatra, or Brutus. But if you fail, you are marked for life. What a queer, what an idiot, why did he do it, pathological -- thousand mockeries, smiles, only half hidden whispers, pitiful glances. If he died there would atleast be a general round of tuttut, perhaps even a condemnation of society. If he lived, universal disapproval. Was life ever so dear?

Still the blade felt nice. Cold steel on bare skin. The sleeve rolled back. He could almost imagine himself in a dark alley, maybe in a foreign country. Someone chasing him. The long arm of the law maybe, or someone he had repudiated. He rubbed his thigh. The sudden friction ran a warmth through him. A frisson? Ya, the word sounded nice.

scio.

Standing On A Rain Soaked Road

The coming and going of known and unknown faces,
Like seasons in precipitation…….
None waiting for me.

-The Shepherdess

It was quite cold that night
Without even a blanket to wrap him
He ran towards the railway station --
The rushes breaking against him
Sending grey flowers into the air
To fill it with dew --
Were you there that night?
Were you the God he thought you to be?
He has dyed his clothes in zafrani
But the sleeves are green, giving the lie --
I can neither live in the world,
Nor renounce it :
A kafir, I yearn for God.

Why do you ask me to choose between God and sin?
It was in sin that i saw God
A kafir I am, so He visited me
God came to me as beautiful as sin --
Yesterday evening in a tavern I saw Him,
And his scarf was dyed in my colors.

~copyright, scio amo
the kafir..lol

A wall...and an unopened Closet

FLOCCI­NAUCINI­H(that's zaid):
lol
a sudden lol...sent to a stranger's scrapbook...
or the beginning of a mating game...


Shiladitya:
u can take a picture of something u see,..

an impersonal comment...zaid adavnces, shilo retreats
classic venetian strategy


Shiladitya:
u can take a picture of something u see,..

zaid's silence provoks shilo..shilo advances
the picture as a metaphor of the self..
come paint me..:p


FLOCCI­NAUCINI­H:
can i???are u a u2 fan????

a little drunken,,where did u2 come from?..


Shiladitya:
a bigtime one! lol

big?..where did that come from?..now you have my full attention..;-D


FLOCCI­NAUCINI­H:
my love is also a crazy fan of u2... i enjoy some of their songs!!!!

predictable enters love..and boys...
o..and did i forget songs?
saki indianized..lol

Shiladitya:
if u cud hav taken the picture there wudnt hav been any make-believe game to satisfy the troubled frenzy..lol

pictures? frenzy? my my..even my ears are blushing..:-I

FLOCCI­NAUCINI­H:
the troubled frenzy is insatiable... vistas can never be completely beheld by our tiny eyes ....

ooo..ooo..the crecendo is rising...ooo
play on...aah

btw..if vistas cant be seen, can they atleast be...umm...pokered?...:)

Shiladitya:
dedicate 'All I want is you' to her....a very fulfilling U2 number...eyes in a moon of blindness...

'HER'!!!!!!!!!!...wowowow...is shilo nuts?
(or being just a tease?..i wonder

FLOCCI­NAUCINI­H:
thats among my favorites too.....v soulful.....dedicate to her????? who her???? i guess u dont carefully read our blogs

sharp retort..go zidddddddddduuuuuu

Shiladitya:
some ones' microscopic visions seldom realizing the true frenzy, tried to look into the screen behind the mirror...brought in some words...they couldnt supress the wrath of the poised night..

shilo ducks under his usual obscurity..:-(..coward...lol

Shiladitya:
may be him !lol

only to swiftly recoup..bloody politically erect..:-D

then...


FLOCCI­NAUCINI­H:
the multiplicity of truth...the shallowness of the mirror....the ineffablity of words...the lonliness of the night....poison maybe....elixir could be....microspocic visions only aggrandize minute non-existance.......ya maybe him.......u wanted to rape scio sometime i had read.....i couldnt picture that lol

MDDLF!!! AM I 'HIM"???/
:-$

not that mind being the stuff others dreams are made off..:-)
i am such an obliging angel..O:-)


Shiladitya:
scio is too lovable to be raped by this nazi!lol

:-D...men in uniform..
[or out of it...lol


FLOCCI­NAUCINI­H:
if u knw scio well enough then ud knw that rape to him mite be the purest ...most passionate expression of love......trust me on this.... all her wants is some one to push him against the wall

Shiladitya:
yeah...the oldest passion of scio is to be driven ...like wriggling against a wonderwall , with wolves howling to devour the sciovian impurity ! lol



FLOCCI­NAUCINI­H:
impurity????..... he is virginal....much to his sad desperation...someday he'll be deflowered

...
...
too stunned to react...
what is it bout men intruding into a flower's fantasy...
o mia rosa...

what is it about a wall that i find so damn appealing? a wall to protect myself. and a wall to be broken.
hope there's no young freud (or lacan..lol) around

will a flower be as charming deflowered?..lol..i wonder..and the bird that will pollinate it?..wont it fly away?
or will it bleed..with the flower..
as the thorn pierces the nightingale's heart...
drawing blood, closing wounds.

work out your imageries...lol

meanwhile..be ready to be pressed against a wall
snarllll

Ode to tahseen

Remember how we loved the rains
Getting drenched to the core
Running around like free souls
Needles piercing our bodies
Wrapping us in shared ecstasy
Greens all around us.
Hungry eyes hoping they could be us
Celebrities of Park Street
Daring to live and beguile
U and I
Oblivious to the world.

Remember how we sat in class
Huddled together at a remote corner
Sneering at the boring lectures
Giggling at the professor’s gestures
Restless in our imposed lassitude
Writing our incoherent thoughts
On thin single lined copies that talked
Didn’t they know we had our own space?
Didn’t they know we created a whole new world of words?
Why couldn’t the professors just catch hold of us?
U and I
Impenetrable in our togetherness

Remember how we walked around the streets of kolkata
Struggling under the dreadful scorching sun
Fearing we’d get tanned
Shading our sweaty faces
With bags, rags, copies, files and hands
Just to prevent sunburns
Your slow footsteps struggled to match my hurried catwalk
I always turned back to look at your permanent grimace.
Your spoilt slothful innocence
Endearing at its best
People leaned out from cars to look at us
Shopkeepers couldn’t help but notice us
We made heads turn
U and I
Two rivers flowing under the open skies.

Remember our great escapes
How we hoodwinked three professors
Slipped out and bunked class
To watch a movie
Or sit at ccd
We roamed around pantaloons
Window-shopped at Westside
You enjoyed the attention of a salesman at planet m
Wherever we went you paid the bill
And I paid the tip.
How we avoided your father’s friend
You walked ahead
I walked behind
What if your bitchy relatives saw us?
What if juicy rumors did their rounds?
We had thrown caution to the winds
U and I
Perfect partners in crime.


Remember how much we talked
Face to face, talking copies
Phone calls smses et all.
We woke up to each other’s voices or words.
We went to sleep with the same
We would study together in our separate homes
Racking our tired brains.
Is there anything that escaped our words?
Is there anything that we failed to express?
We were together even when miles apart
U and I
And time just flied….

Remember how good we looked together
Our classmates would bet their lives
Believing there was something between us
Even the professors were curious
We stood out among the crowd
We stood out among the audience
You pretty faced beautiful girl
I the tall handsome n gentle man
Weren’t we what adolescent dreams are made of
How they wanted us to be what we were not
How they wished they could prove our denial wrong!
U and I
Raising the bar
Selling romantic dreams

Remember how much we shared
Our joys and sorrows were inextricably linked
I cried your tears
You smiled my smile.
How we would sing along.
How we would love the same songs
How we would not share a word sometimes
And yet know each other’s most hidden thoughts
Our silences even spoke to each other.
Our shadows walked together
Your eyes would question
My eyes always had the answers
Didn’t they envy what we shared?
Didn’t they wish our story was theirs?
U and I
Inebriated
On an emotional high…

Remember always the times that have passed
Now we have busy lives
We have our own journeys to tread
We have our own battles to win
We have our own separate lives to lead
Yet somewhere we are connected
Yet somewhere our souls communicate
Yet somewhere our love is intact
Yet somewhere our feelings still match
Yet somewhere we are just the same old people
Yet somewhere we are just the way we are
U and I
‘hum’ and ‘tum’
Us always
Us forever!!!!!!

by zaid al baset
© 2007 by Zaid

The Butt..or Man as a symbol

What, after all, is Man?....

all our present philosophy is obsessed with him..we speak of human rights and human dignity and most of all humanity...we serenade on love and all that it means to be humane..kind generous courteous saintly...
rot...lol

to get a perspective let me quote two wellknown philosophers...

Oration on the Dignity of Man
Giovanni Pico della Mirandola

excellent man...a bit whoozy n too optimistic in a typical renaissance way...

'Most esteemed Fathers, I have read in the ancient writings of the Arabians that Abdala the Saracen on being asked what, on this stage, so to say, of the world, seemed to him most evocative of wonder, replied that there was nothing to be seen more marvelous than man. And that celebrated exclamation of Hermes Trismegistus, ``What a great miracle is man, Asclepius'' confirms this opinion. ....man is the intermediary between creatures, that he is the familiar of the gods above him as he is the lord of the beings beneath him; that, by the acuteness of his senses, the inquiry of his reason and the light of his intelligence, he is the interpreter of nature, set midway between the timeless unchanging and the flux of time; the living union (as the Persians say), the very marriage hymn of the world, and, by David's testimony but little lower than the angels.'

man as a marriage hymn???...gosh,.,...these romans are crazy...
tho..like most latinos i know...rather passionate...:-D

voltaire n shakespeare wouldnt mind too much either i suppose...

then lets take the indian philosopher...zaid al baset talking to his hag, swastika...waxing eloquent on his (ex?-) lover c...

zaid: he was good lo0oking .
i thnk i loved his ass more than him anews.
swastikarimi: lollollollol.
that was lovelyyyyyyyyyloll;ol
zaid: waht?
ya i just miss his ass coz as a person he was ass only
swastikarimi: lollollol..
perfect bitching

bitching?..or was he just being truthful?

what is someone to us?...a voice? a letter? a butt? a shoulder?
scary...but aren't we sometimes just symbols..big stilletoes you have a fetish on...or maybe a cuddly teddy you just cant get rid off
are we ever men? lower than angels higher than beasts? what are we seriously?

swas thinks her lovelife is just a broken bed...[its true..she broke a bed while...umm...:-D
zaid thinks his is a broken wrist..[c armtwisted him,..proving wifeabuse isnt a heteronormative thing alone...lol

are we ever loved as we?..or as metaphors supplements signs?
a hallmark greeting card, a poem on charity..pictures hieroglyphs

surrounded by senses, we fall down and worship idols...

on a positive tune, its not all bad,,having a good..umm...image..can take you places..:-D

zaid: yippeee
9:48 AM become gay
me: LOL
lol
lol
zaid: lose more weight n start seein me
me: why???

lol
zaid: we'll be fine only
me: lol
lol
zaid: as in together in love n fuck
me: lol
lol
lol
lol
lalalala
9:49 AM zaid: see it
if u like it

me: :-)
zaid: u can experiment with men
me: LOL
lol
lol
9:50 AM and u will be my teacher?
:p
zaid: yes
ill do u ever so gently
me: lol
who says i dont like rough?..:p
9:51 AM zaid: no it hurts a lot but


im thick also..
9:52 AM thick
me: dahling...do u think u will only top me?
;p
9:53 AM zaid: na
mutual fuclking.....
u do i do
9:54 AM me: lol
lol
versatile renaissance man
zaid: yes
also so gorgeoues


9:55 AM zaid: yippppppeeeeeeeee
so scio
whn u want me n where?
condoms ull wear???
me: lol
lol
lol
ol
lol
lol
lol
lol
lol
dahlinggg...wherent u supposed to b mongamous?.
:-D
9:56 AM zaid: yes
i am
to u
me: purr

unfortunately, i think i will remain straight for a little more time..
and there's always it...
my repertoire of symbols..wolves and birds...

tralala

ps: picture chosen by swas..
[sexpearian aside..is she lesbo?..or bi?...
marry swas get another girl free
yipeeeeeeh..:-D
come to straightman's fantasy land..:-D

THE GREAT PATHAN FIGHT

As the title holds the key to its content, needless to say this fight comprises of two Pathans (well, I really doubt the origin of the fighters involved, one says he is a domiciled Bengali (he doesn’t care a wee bit about the aboriginality of his ancestors), the other claims he was born and brought up in a dark den in arid Afghanistan.

But being a witness to the pugnacious nature of the two personas (that of Zaid al Baset and Maisim Mirza), it is hard to resist the temptation of concluding that they both are nothing but Pathans. Oh, how I loved the cricketers, the sheer good looking Wasim Akram and Shahid Afridi- the Pathans of pulchritude! Oh yes! Both Mirza and Zaid are extremely handsome- that’s another proof of Pathanhood.

So how did the verbal duel begin? Blame it on G-talk. Yester night my G-talk had conked and I couldn’t chat with Zaid furtively. Orkut appeared to be our saviour- forget about stealth and surreptitiousness.

Zaid, poor lover, was confused as usual about his single status. He couldn’t cope with the fact that none was waiting for him to bump into his arms. So he decided to see again his lover’s undulating sand dunes dotted with cactus (read: his lover’s butt with boils). While deciding to hold the hands of his lover encore, he became perplexed, so he came online to see me playing agony aunt to him.
…………………………………………………………………………………………
The agony aunt session was going perfect. Sometimes I acted as Malaika Arora( remember the love-problem show on MTV?), sometimes I was as shrewd as Suhel Seth. But Orkut, being the grotto of all the perverts and voyeurs across the globe, whispered into the ears of its members about the spicy love session going on in the scrap books of Zaid and mine. Zaid and I did not mind the presence of the ghosts, but some of the spectres were so enthusiastic that they could not hold their tongues back. Mirza had a say on Zaid’s love story which is soon going to be as popular as Eric Seagull’s book. But Mirza with the likes of Camus and Kafka doesn’t care much about mundane love stories….natural, he called Zaid’s story a “not so sorry but a stupid story” and offered me an online cup of coffee to get the fretful story out of my mind.

Who knew that “not so sorry but a stupid story” punch line had the power of an atom bomb?? The American Orkut became the Hiroshima and Nagasaki of 2007!
................................................................................................................................................................
zaid:
sweetheart....if only some ppl concerned themselves with the stories of their own lives or the lack of it.. than opine on stories which they really cant fathom wnt the world be a haven....(U)

zaid:
if only some ppl had the ability to understand the finer and subtle nuances of a language........then nincompoops would get the hint ......use an ofxord dictionary n do a google search on sarcasm( as a form of rhetoric)



and here comes mirzu's defence
مرذا:
cool can you try english now

cunning mirzu is enjoing the wrath of zaidism
مرذا:
aaaah aaaaaah this guy is killing..what vocabulary what syntax.. what "oxord"




the pen is mightier than the sword- encore!
zaid:
i knw i can kill with words....thank you....as far as the typographical errors ..well i have better things to do than type msgs to a loser who really has nothn better to do than being..... well a loser!!!( of the highest cult.......)

mirza to me(or is he actually hinting at zaid? ;) )ا
مرذا:
well....shhh. may your words not hurt the ones you speak of, might be that they are just around the corner.

mirzu is hurt, so it seems...to zaid
مرذا:
well..me i all awe..how virtuoeus of you!

mirzu seeking empathy from me
مرذا:
read my scrap from zaid...how kind!

the ever furious zaid:
zaid:
as far as virtues go.....the only virtue i religiously follow is that of nt being virtuous 2:29 am (0 minutes ago) zaid: well..me i all awe..how virtuoeus of you! ... n dearwest u really need to work on ur grammer....dont they have wren n martin in afghanistan?????

the tired zaid/the end/:(
zaid:
anews take care .....heres wishing u a happy story.......

turn of mirzu to get mad at zaid...tells him to get lost...total sympathy to the naive zaid, the poor zaid.
zaid:
is that all u can say ???get lost??how sorry n stupid ......so there we come a full circle ma friend.

mirza, the bull. zaid, the matador.
مرذا:
whatever....and plz am not ur friend

the modest zaid:
zaid:
well im a philanthrope... i call every inconsequential human being a friend...just to humour them u knw.....

oh! the fight is still on. mirzu is back wid a bang after fagging. The power of a cigarette!
مرذا:
anddd? i know my grammar sucks, but doesn't "..." at the end of a statement mean you are going to vomit some more of crap?

zaid is back too.this time accompanied by his passion for a-posteriori as well as a-priori!!!
zaid:
dearest ppl like u are at best worthy only of my excrements......whch really is so much more valuable than ur whole self... u knw waht...honestly u arent evn worth my stinking bile ridden vomit......

The ever monstrous mirzu:
مرذا:
anddddd? do I have to remind you grammar?

amores perros part 2. :(
zaid:
well every dog has his day.......:).....

bark-estra
مرذا: yes. do not restrain yourself, must say your grammar is astounding..aaand?

the end.finally. or is it like the evergreen end of z-c fling???
zaid: now u are boring me......do dont this gandhigiri and and.....give me more types.....im bored.....gdnite....n grow up....tc!


The biggest brawl ever on Orkut lasted for 2 hours. Venom in their souls, the Pathans hit the bed (no, not together) with bad taste in their mouth. And I, the PoMo Sanjay from Mahabharata went to bed with a content heart hoping to see more of that brouhaha next day. But man proposes, god disposes! Next morn an instance of unrequited love at first sight ruined my hope. Zaid had a glimpse of a snap of Mirza (aaaaarghhh…why did I mail the photo to Zaid?) and instantly fell in love with him!!!!!

Is there any schism between love and hatred after all?

-The Shepherdess

words fly....

Words fly, words lie
Words dream, words wake
Words droop to cry
In the time of earthquake
That intoxicates the black river and its sunless tributary
Digging a furtive furrow in a heart of pebbles painted with frost.

-The Shepherdess

Break-up High...lol

In case anyone didnt know..this is the time of th year popularly called Break-up High

or the seasom when your fondest hopes are dashed, and greatest devilries unleashed..yum

why?...well it is monsoon, the rains have just begun to fall, washing the sky. it is the young rain, not the stale rain that fall on streets of garbage and mud, but the rain that brings a pang in one's heart..making you feel the hollow inside..the unsatisfaction...the feeling that you love, but no one loves you back...

ask the yaksha of meghaduta...kalidasa definitlely knew what he was talking bout...the yaksha separated from his beloved by a curse is exiled many hundreds of miles away in a faraway mountain...yet damn, he cant admire the nature, or go rockclimbing, but has to think of his beloved al times...and, worst, choose a cloud o carry his message to her...

how more of a diva could you get...:-$

its true nowadays too...our latterday yakshas n yakshis start writing [generally saccharine..and scarcely readable...] poems..they r so dripping with honey n candy u wanna eat them than read them....[witness eg, the two posts below..;-D...]

and start pining away..or in case of the author of the last post...fattening away from overeating in front of a tv showing [what else?] mushy romantic soaps...

sheesh...
who invented the rains???

too take more examples...

girl G....she falls everyday for anything that moves on legs...preferrably men..but known to have spent the night with women too..nothing wrong in that...except come june...she must start liking a singer more than his appropriate for any healthy redblooded promiscuous female to do...gets hurt...starts hating him...stares at the wall...writes reams of poetry...excellent stuff [she is the exception...okay...zaid writes really brilliant too...to be honest..:-D]....but makes herself miserable...and cant even start lusting after someone new..[okay,,,except another married star..but thats oops exeptional...]

boy B...another gonner...known to be a a masochist...generally classifies people a-posteriori..is a good friend of above coz she has a heart-shaped...well....a-posteriori..;-D...been in a tortuous relationship for almost three years...with a guy...[alas for lady above, he isnt buying what she is selling...MUCH TO MY GLEE]....coz of well....lets quote...

B: heelooo
me: hmmm
how r u?
11:27 PM B: c has really left mei feel so usedlike my love has no meaning
me: B
look
move on
he wasnt worth it
when u dump someone dump him well
B: im am nt sad bt i thnk my emotions were played with life goes on bt still
me: he was just an exploiter
11:28 PM B: i loved him with all my soul u knw
me: but he was necessary
to break u
B: anews wahtever how are u?
me: n ur pride
very bad
i will tell u later
B: pride is intact
me: lol
lol
n manhood
B: need a fuck
11:29 PM me: LOL

which is fine...except that thanks to the monsoon, his cockadoodleness is sighing away his nights, and sleeping away his days..cant blame him..that c was really a freak...

girl D...loves a man for two years...then just coz i have danced once with her...[ok..to b honest, it was a damn good tango..:-D]...has to confess that very evening she loves me...and in class has to scribble lovenotes to me...geeeesh...come monsoon, she is breathing fire..when i tell her i dont want her [after giving loads of hints and pinches of salt..:-D]..she burns me with eyes and words..[as only nubile girls can], complains about me to all her friends....doesnt get much response..coz i hav..umm...spent time with them in the rain too..winkwink...lol...complains to teachers...again obvious lack of response...so abuses me and struts off

now..i like strutting peahens...but still..one can only have so much of something..lol

boy S...falls in love with his cousin brother...tucks gifts under his pillow n sheets,,,[what sort of gifts i wonder] while the poor straight boy is prolly geting a morning woody...i do so feel vulnerable as a straightboy sometimes...must remember to avoid my cousin brothers [in any case,as wilde said one must always hate one's cousins..]....not that there's anything wrong in being nonstraight...:-I

i could go on multuplying examples...i will if ppl ask me..[there, thats a hint..:-D]..who knows i might even reveal ur secrets?

so i hate monsoon and i absolutely hate love...never ben in love..[thankgod]...two friends have publicly reviled me as being footloose..i say 'i am waiting for the right person'...:p...if i did fall in love, i would prolly avoid the monsoons like hell....and after sufficient time has passes, confess that exalted and odious emotion to my unfortunate beloved....if the beloved agreed, bon...if not, i'll prolly prefer a clean end...no messy entanglements for me..thankyou...if i stop loving someone, i'll stop forever..[maybe after sticking a few needles into their voodoo dolls]

anyways,,to conclude our discourse...
there's still a silver lining for all u hopeless lovers...fall for me..;-D

as the following quote of post-c B shows...

11:57 PM B: hmmmm
11:58 PM waht odes reciprocation mean to u ???
me: reciprocation means loving me with every molecule of its body
11:59 PM savng me from myself
n from the darkness outside n inside
putting me bfor everything
B: every1 doesnt love the same way
me: i hav a high costprice..but i am worth it
12:00 AM lol
B: yes u are
me: :-)
B: bt u mst cnsider the time restraints>>>>
distance restrainbts
me: as u r too
12:01 AM B: i love u scio
u knw that rite/
if ever u wanta loving fuck im there
me: lol
ya..i know
B: n im there whn u are fucked up
12:02 AM me: lol
lol
lol
can i blogpost this?
devilish grn
grin

lalalala

diary of a broken hearted 'mind'

09:12:02: i am awake..or am i waking up in a dream????no ..wait..i can see my room...its vibrant blue and yellow walls....my fish(es) are leisurely roaming inside the aquarium....rummaging for food..digging...my home gym looks as dilapidated as my soul..i deliberately avoid looking at the huge mirror in my room..yes i am wide awake.....
09:13:00:i narrow my eyes

09:13:01: i shut them

09:13:03: i open my eyes....rub them ..blink..life sucks..
.
09:15:45: life still sucks...its been drizzling outside...the sky looks vague and lost.. the clouds have no meaning..they are just hovering about the sky aimlessly just like my eyes hover around them.. the breeze is yawning ...stretching...its making the tired looking curtains fret..it reaches me... i can feel it on my face....i tell the breeze to go get a life...

09:16:52: i will sleep....i shut my eyes and try all sorts of postures in bed....a kamasutra between me and my pillows...head on pillow...head below pillow..head without pillow..pillow clutched by my arms tightly as if i am holding you..(i won't let you go)..pillow between the legs...pillows all around me....nothing works...i can't sleep...sleeping pills are like a politician's promise ..fake with no consequense....i give up....

09:20:12: i am standing at the window...nobody seems happier than the insects it seems...i see bees arranged on top of each other like neatly ironed clothes on a shelf...i wonder what orgy like ritual are they performing....on the other side of the road i look at the square building with square balconies with square towels hanging on undulating ropes and a 1940 engraved on the upper edge of its facade staring at me blankly...(if only it was you). the road is glistening grey....
wet earth is burping..footsteps squelch on dirty mud..puddles all over... garbage soup....an urchin is answering nature's call on the pavement....i wonder what would shiv sena have to say about public display of excretion...( you never held my hands in public.maybe you were ashamed of me..you were were'nt you?)

09:25:43:i am staring at the mirror ....i smile a smile that would make monalisa cry and run out of her painting..my canine teeth have become yellower than the permissible limit of beauty....i brush my teeth hard and fast and long..canine teeth still look yellow( how little i have looked at myself these days...all i did was look at you.. admire you)....i wash my face...

09:30:25: im inside the bathroom ...i look at myself in the mirror..i realize my robust physique has shrunk into a delicate figure if you know what i mean.....(i miss the soft flesh of your body)

10:45:33; im travellin in an auto balancing myself next to the driver.. the driver is exasperated because of the traffic...he begins a religious chant of invectives..."mother's cunt !!! the school releases its students at four different times during the day!!!!! mother"s cunt..it causes traffic.....mother's cunt ..reduces our income....when the auto is empty there are no takers.. bloody cock when it is full..evryone wants a ride...bloody whores!!!!!" i don't know how to react...i blush....as though they were sweet nothings and give a silent nod...(you have abused me worse...)

11:05:35: i have reached the university.... if anything looks more meloncholy than me then it is the universtity..i find comfort in its sorrow...(there was no sorrow in your eyes when u left me..they were mocking me)

11:14:40: i have reached a dark looking corrider where bright looking girls and some stupid looking boys are talking animatedly..they are discussing answers to questions being asked at the interview with those already interviewed...i give all answers...girls give me a look of admiration...someone tells me im super intellectual...i think balls!!!!(were'nt you in love with my mind?)

12:25:35: returning home....i wish i could sing...i want to sing the song 'aaj jaane ki zid na karo'
i hum the first line and realize that my own soul will leave the body if i continue.. so i stop....i wish i could sing my pain away....i wish i could dance in the rain....(you must be listening to rock songs..playing air guitar)

14:18:56:im restless.. i surf channels hysterically....i try listening to the radio..some bloke is confessing undying love to a girl...i sigh n shut it.....(i am not missing you)..

15:45:23:im lying in bed ....making grand plans about my future...ill study hard...ill do all the right things.... ill stay focussed.... all im focussing on is my cell phone really....switching it off ...then on ...off again... on again.... off on off on off on off on!!!!!!upturned in general mode....away from me in silent mode....i play a game on it....(u think ill wait for your call and keep looking at the cell..noway!!!)

16:35:28: i look at myself in the mirror and smile again...why have the canines become so bloody yellow....is it jaundice i wonder....i brush again.....i tell myself its looking off white.....suddenly i remember how taj mahal is becoming yellow too....air and water pollution....(maybe its your kisses...you yellow dirty big teeth monster how cute you were)

18:32:31: i have walked so much.....im looking good ..people are staring at me....lifes calling me out....i have a half smile on my face...i look at noone walking past me .....im just aware of their stares....a song is playing on my mind.....im moving on...im walking fast....i have no destination though....there are so many peolpe in this world..so many places to go...so many moments to experiance...i feel exhilarated..i feel hopeful ..i feel alive....(Ill forget u ....lifes too long)

20:55:11: spoke to a dear friend...love is taking a toll on her..she had unanswered questions....i knew all the answers ...played agony uncle to the hilt....how much i know about love, life and things beyond.....(i really didnt expect this from you...i didnt know you were such a hypocrite)

22:35:27: lying in bed...silently....staring at nothing....thoughts obfuscated by the noise of an angry downpour...(why?WHy?Why?)

23:15:49: i survived today.....(i survived you)

00:00:00; tommorow is a new day...a new beginning....( without you)

by zaid al baset
© 2007 by Zaid

You, sun, do not satisfy me
Like a snowstorm pelts a bear
Then leaves me spreadeagled on the ice
As it evanishes, only a faint water streak
On the tongue, as beautiful as a mirage
In the desert whose four corners
Are the four minaars
That tie my arms, as the doves swoop down
To drink from the cool green pool
And a word escapes to you
There is no God but God, and so I worship you
Long did I worship statues
Now shall I adore you in empty halls
And whose windows carved in mirror reflect
Me, not you
I can't leave you -- if I do, my soul shatters
And boys play with it, in their cruel smiles a new game
I sit down and collect the pieces
Every shard shines with your thought
Do you exist? I do not know
I to exist -- must believe in you
For you are, so I am
If you are not, I will not be...
Just a lie, a thinning blood.

What is prayer but flirting with God, I asked
God laughed, and gave me you
I prayed no more.
The jealous God laughed in your eyes
I clutched your hair
And forgot myself
The drowning breezes
Swept dust away from the courtyard
The bared graves swept by brown leaves
Turned their heads and went to sleep
Till Judgement Day will wake all men
And ask them how much their love was worth

Worth enough, merciful rogue, to give us spring,
And wine when it has left, a cup of fire
And ice to cool it, the dark span of lengthening night
When I wait for you, though you do not come.

Will it not be God's proudest day,
When pointing to his heart, Man shall say
This, God, is your temple, worship me,
Or go away --
Be conquered by what you have made
I am your qiblah, or you are not so good a sculptor
If your art couldn't make, what I worship everyday.

~~copyright...scio amo...lol

run ....
run as fast as you can
run for your life...
run faster than your breaths
run faster than your thoughts
run so that all u see is a mirage ....
run so that each image blurs into another
till u see nothing........or better still
run with your eyes closed
run run away from your senses
and hide yourself inside an empty room
with no windows....
run run run u bloody coward
dont u dare fall in love
cause u cant endure the intesity of pain
dont u dare writhe in lust
cause you fear the esctasy of touch...
run run run
your senses will conquer your timidity....
but u must be a coward all your life
shouldnt you?
so run run run lest u learn to live
run away from this new religion of the senses...
go to the church and confess
go to the mosque and ask forgiveness
go to the temple and ring bells
curse yourself cause u sought pleasure
curse yourself cause u did what u wanted to
curse yourself u rotten sinner
curse your senses...curse the secrets they hide
curse your desires
n wait till u die.....
u will go to heaven..
or burn in hell
and honestly nobody has time to care..
not even your sad angry god and his contrived doctrine.....
good bless
amen!!!!!!!!!!!!!

by
zaid al baset

Zaidism--a Riposte!

It is not known if zaid's haven is or is not heaven..most likely being damp wet and untouched, it resembles a prehistoric cave rather than heaven..but well, we could ignore that

more serious is this newfangled cult..utter nonsense if u ask me...pleasure can never be found in human beings...

make war not lust..if u ask me, frankly speaking...human beings are not worth loving..if you love them, they will tease you and throw you away like a discarded linen..ignore them, and they will cling to you

take pleasure in yourself..you are your own heaven,,,never love.,,never lust either,,,those young things will fade away,,,fly away leaving you alone...one day you will come to your window, and stare at an open cage

take pleasure in yourself...so zaid, put bananas to creative uses...lol..you know they are good lubricants too...dont wait for your love...use lemons...love nature as rousseau says...rub yourself against a tree...stare wildly at a sunset...dear reader, lay yourself on a beach withput anything on you but a smile...and feel the warm sand caress you...coax you into abandon...they will never leave you..unlike humans...

feel the breeze teasing your ear..use that opportunity to pluck a jasmine..and wrapping it in an envelope send it to your ex's present partner...by all means, ruin their relationship..and welcome sin into your world...hell too is in you

dont ever love..are you in love?...i'll tell u the symptoms...[coz if u r, then run,,.]....do u wait for a word from ur friend as tho it were the most precious thing in the world? does a word from her or him make you feel you hav reached heaven. gained light? do you feel you cant ever leave them, coz if you do you will kill yourself...do you prefer eternal torment to the thought of leaving them?

when you think of leaving them, do you feel like vomiting? when you feel they are leaving you, do you fell someone has torn apart your intestines,,and like some weird japanese harakiri has left you all twisted up without anything inside you

do you want to be with your friend all your life? do you feel they are the best in you, and you are nothing without them?

run...

and zaid is wrong...we fools we fall in lust and end in love...we look for a casual fling, an anonymous flirtation, a brief rondel, and then.,,,,and then they grow on you,,,those young things,,,,they grow on you...till your every sense vibrates to them, and them only

run,,,

never fall in lust...that coquettish glance with which you steal hearts...that hand with which you warm a thigh, it will imprison you,,,till your lust will imprison you.,.till your desires enfold you.,,,and all you will love is your beloved

run,,,

put fruits to good uses,,,use sand creatively...or even a blindfold..take pleasure,,ye.,,but in the sun and the empty sky,,[soon even in the clouds, you will start seeing their face,,and the sun it will seem is painting the horizon with the blush of their cheeks..run,,,]

just run away from yourself....from your senses.,.into dark alleys..into empty pubs..no matter where....just run away from yourself

and run away from zaidism

for we poor men,,,we start to fall in lust..with a flutter of an eye, and the swish of a word.,..a carissime, a song of the streets...

and we are in love..

fie...

.

Flirted away in an art Deco ballroom late into the night
Then slept all day today
There’s a languor in my blood, my veins flow with wine
And wine-dark grapes are growing all over
O taste and see
Vines grown with salt brought by the sea air
That from the distant isles, brings a flavor
Of things that yet may be
A sea’s a mug for all that
A mug to be quaffed in a draught
And when I have swallowed it whole in one bitter gulp
What island will you take shelter in? what refuge
Wont the world be too dry?
Too small—far too quenched
For you--distant one--to be left unspoilt?

~~scio amo
copyright 2007...lol

a narcissist's self-indulgence

Hope an old and jaded fool is allowed to take a little perverse pleasure in hearing others discuss about him...

especially as being talked about is the only pastime for a diva way past his past and his prime gathering dust with not a few old skeletons of forgettable lust

for we are a spectacle...and the crowd needs its bread and circus
lol

some comments on me..impoliteful
tsc tsc

Black: he is a damn liar...i tell u.

Black: he is so double standard yaar...he never reveals his secrets...wen he does he never reveals the name of his sex objects, forget abt subjects...and he reveals all our naughty slutty thing on d blog...THIS IS UN PEU TOO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!

zaid: yes.... i knw....v v v shrewd n wicked boy

Black: ei dont call me prude...think abt urself...wat u r? born diplomat...choose politics as ur profession....u will shine like a crazy diamond.

Black: true...the men in my life r eminently forgettable,for instance, u.

scio: i know i am forgettablebut then..all dreams are....no wonder everyone leaves me n forgets me...

Black: u commit sin...but u dont reveal them...how dare u reveal our sins candidly????

Black: no...i dont forget all my dreams...not always.....some dreams r always in my monikotha.;)

hmmmm...what is she indicating?
am i an unforgettable dream?hope others think so too
ishhhhhhhrsr

How are you?...you asked me

How are you?...you asked me
I am fine…I said

How much pain does it take to break a hope
How much is the heart of a man worth?

I don’t know..i don’t want to know
Today I just want to be free

Silence all round me… I danced when I found
Your eyes all around me

But now I will be free..free to die
Don’t save me..dont give me a false hope

I will run through the fields today
Fields untouched by axe and plough
But the green rice grows in them, and golden corn,
And no man toils

The boys are running today
Can’t you see the silver festoons… untimely holiday
No one to beat them…
To their home they will go
To the green forests, and the green fields where golden corn grows
Untouched, unripe

I shall be free today… you will not touch me
Don’t tell me what’s sin… your eyes all around me
I will dance with myself tonight
My hand on my heart, I will forget you

Let my soul be blank…heart don’t betray me
Courage don’t leave me… all the pain that I have felt
Dig a grave for me a thousand feet deep
Where I can lie
Side by side with my hope.. a tinsel princess
My bride…

You never loved me… why did you pretend?
Why did you say you will never leave me?...
Beautiful stranger, leave a rose for me
In my grave, my nuptial bed…

Adeus…you said you will never leave me
Yet not one word did you say…not one thing to show
You cared…
I wont complain

Just let me be alone tonight
Just let me be free
Like those boys running home, their ties unloosed
And sweat on their cheeks,,,

~~by scio amo
copyright 2007...lol

Her crooked story!

Her eyes are lachrymose
Or may be she’s just too fatigued
Her smile is too artificial.
Or maybe it’s hiding her abomination
Her clothes are too gaudy
Or maybe she doesn’t much care about fashion trends...
Her skins like a glazed brown rubber
Or maybe she just rubs it furiously to cleanse herself of the dirt within
Her frame looks too emaciated
Or maybe she can’t gulp down food after what is being rammed inside her mouth
Her lips never utter a word
Or maybe she accepted the fact nobody would listen to her pain.
Her gait carries the burden of misfortune
Or maybe she’s just had a long night at work.
Her child’s uncared for
Or maybe it’s just an occupational hazard
Her thoughts are vague
Or maybe she’s learnt not to think about her ordeal
Her emotions are few
Or maybe her heart has more scars than the marks on her body.
Her soul is soiled
Or maybe its just the need to survive
So now
She sits naked on her rickety bed
Breasts firm on droopy thin shoulders
Legs wide apart…
Waiting for money
Waiting for him
Waiting for redemption
Waiting for freedom
Or maybe just the end of this wretched night…..
© 2007 by Zaid

Talk To Her

Silence hangs in the musty room
Through the motley glass panels
Enters the shadow of a sparrow
To talk to her.
Will silence find words?

The white washed walls,
The shadow of the bird
Inebriated by the reverberation of the panels,
The heap of dust lazing
On the faded portrait of the priest,
Dead, a dozen of years back.

Everything, everything is here
To aggravate the profundity of silence,
Her bereavement, her mourning
For losing her tongue-
A penalty for revealing too much of her heart,
A punishment for resurrecting her corpse
Rotten, stinking, which was lying
In some unknown morgue,
Her putrid corpse….half eaten by millions of ants.

-The Shepherdess

A suicide note!

So I thought I’d just let you go..
Let those moments slip away like sands through my empty hands….
I ain’t bad, but I know I ain’t any
good for you…
We didn’t really go wrong, we just didn’t seem that right..
I know you’d be happy when I’m gone
My love couldn’t give you what I thought it should..
Sad though cause I gave my all..
So walk away from my life.oh! love
Please don’t turn to give me one last look
Cause my eyes wont lie
Yet I don’t want to stop you…
I’ll just jump from these lonely cliffs
I’ll free myself from hope!

I know I have been a disappointment
And that’s what I’ll always be to you
I know I couldn’t be what u wanted me to be
Even though I really wanted to.
I wish you’d understand
I am that I am
Not an aberration
Not a mistake
And it’s not my fault..
I know its not yours either…
So I wont blame you
I’m sorry I’m not that perfect son
I’m sorry you couldn’t pat my back and be proud of me…
Though I’m proud of you..
So please don’t expect anything anymore from me
Just let me hide my face and cry
Don’t wipe my tears
Let them run dry
Cause here I stand at the edge of these barren cliffs
I’ll free myself from shame!

Oh please don’t remember me anymore…
Do not cling to my memories
For they’ll make u you bitter and sad
Maybe even a little guilty..
Don’t shed a single tear for me
Try once not to mock this last gesture of mine
I will be indebted to you all
I ain’t a coward
And yet this is my steadfast choice
So let me erase myself from your esteemed story
I know for sure I don’t merit a place.. even a tiny role..
Please don’t try to search for me
Let me be lost to the winds of time
Let me drown into the sea of oblivion
I don’t want a fake cortege
No formal good byes
So I’ll just jump off these eternal cliffs
I’ll free myself from existence.

By
Zaid al baset
.

Don't wait for me tonight

Non non non
Je ne vais pas danser cette nuit-la.
You asked me not to fall in love with you,
You asked me not to be impolite,
You said you are incorruptible.
I am not going to ask you anymore
I am not going to break my heart.
So no no no
I am not going to dance tonight with you
So what if my heart thinks of you?
There are others who are calling me to their
Mehfil and mushairaa.
So no no no
Don’t wait for me tonight
You are just boring me…
I waited for you all night
But tonight…I have waited much too long
Waited for you to say just a word
You never came.
So non non non
I will not wait for you tonight.

~~scio amo

On a summer's evening

On a lovely summer’s evening
With applewine on a rooftop terrace
With the clear evening air bringing the scent
Of forgotten melancholies
And desires that will never be suppressed
Cutting the scallops one by one, salting them in
The pickled mélange of hope and lust
Tell me, looking into my eyes,
You did not once wish that the chair beside you
Empty—or where a stranger sat
You did not wish it was me:
For in every dark head, every mop of unruly brown,
I have often suddenly jerked my head away
To peer at my behind
And wish if it was you…prying on me
Stealing my heart when I wasn’t looking

~~scio amo