asifkhan

mirakee.com/asifkhan

A solivagant person burrying his pain in the coffin of words. Author of 'Prisoners of Paradise'.

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  • asifkhan 211w

    Wanting you

    At times, I don’t want to

    Be a thief,

    And steal the red carpet

    Furnished upon your lips

    Rather, want to get hanged

    By your fair arms,

    Slowly comb your golden tresses

    While your petrol leaking fingers

    Make their way through the forest

    Of my chest

    Wetting it, to set it ablaze

    By the torch of desires

    Want to die a hindu

    Get burnt upon the pyre

    Of love

    Scattered over the bed

    Digging deep into the well of

    Your navel

    Freeing all the caged butterflies

    Rumbling inside the stomach

    Love! Love!

    Open the taverns of your beauty

    Rather I’ll get quenched by this thirst

    Love!

    ‘Yousuf’ is knocking at the tavern doors

    Open them

    I am no prophet,

    Won’t keep you awaiting

    Won’t disappoint you

    I love you

    Believe in my sermon

    And in my desires.  


    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 213w

    Construction

    Look!
    How the buttons of
    My shirt stare you

    Hiding pain,
    Craving to get free
    To open the gates of heaven

    Punish you,
    For keeping the doors locked
    So long

    Using painted nails
    Construct flyovers, roads
    Upon the restless land
    Of my virgin chest

    Form curved roads
    Let them intersect
    Who else is going
    To travel through them.

    Form speed breakers
    To avoid accidents
    Using the spades inside
    Your mouth
    And run the cars of
    Your desires all over me

    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 214w

    Define love?

    Holding your hand
    Take you to
    The brothel of my imagination.

    Burn dirty curtains
    Of modesty
    Dress in the shawl
    Of desires.

    Come out and
    Break the curfew of shyness
    And protest!
    For the freedom
    You have been deprived of.

    Not only an apple
    Rather digest whole of
    The forbidden tree

    Such that not you
    But the heaven itself
    Falls upon you.

    As Darwin kick the Orthodox
    Give love a different meaning
    Define love in different terms
    Define me in your terms.











    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 214w

    Her neck

    Can I be a poet for tonight?
    To dress my naked imagination
    And veil my animalistic desires

    There is an 'MMA' fight going
    Inside the cage of my stomach
    Where both the fighters are
    Eager to lose

    Tonight I feel like a bride,
    Who is pregnant even before
    Being touched

    Ah! That chain around your
    Naked white bottle neck
    Was another thing
    Reminding me of my ill luck

    My teeth have turned rebellious
    And try to free themselves
    From the imperialism of my jaws
    And fell off attracting the Cavity of love

    They are eager to leave
    Their traces upon the snowy hill
    Of your neck
    So that none but only I
    can visit this divine Place again
    And again.
    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 214w

    Poem : Poison

    I am being kept inside the prison
    Not allowed to come out

    While the python of my desires
    Came out slithering through the bars

    Reached you;
    And started licking the sole of your anklet decorated feet
    With its poisonous tongue

    The poison slowly got transferred in you
    And fired each part of your sensuous body

    Making you moan more and more
    Each time its tongue touched your soft feet
    While you started to melt
    As the poisonous tongue tore
    The pious tissue of your feet apart

    In order to meet the real You
    Who has been choked
    By the apparels of modesty

    Making you sail through the oceans of passion

    Darling!
    Your body has been perfectly cut
    Like a diamond
    And my tongue is perfectly poisoned
    To bite you like never before

    So that nothing of you
    Remains in you

    And the only thing remaining
    Would be the poison

    Only poison, only poison , only poison.
    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 227w

    Mirra

    Though many yearned for him
    Her wails shook mountains

    She traded her body and soul
    In the name of ‘krishna’
    That scented each part of her essence

    Her wailings for krishna
    Became the new anthem for lovers

    Her sacrifice became a
    Fire test for all claiming
    To be the patients of love

    While her shroud stood as an idol
    For all those claiming
    To be the followers
    Of the religion of love

    The wind of love was insane
    The sari of sanity was unable to
    Cover her soul

    So she danced madly upon
    The flute of love
    That kissed her lovers lips
    Since then the flute became divine
    And so did her wailings.

    Doesn’t love guaranty you of everything
    Except everything?

    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 228w

    Cursed youth

    I was handed a bottle
    That imparted Ecstasy to young
    Who walk relentlessly
    Upon the sharp blade of youth

    But isn’t the wine of youth itself ecstatic?

    It’s indeed a wine made by melting sharp blades
    That cut everything on their way
    Freeing the young of all the shackles
    He had been in.

    The fire starts burning with full vigor
    Softening and re shaping the young
    Statues of wax
    Placing a wick of desires
    Inside them,
    That catches fire easily
    Giving them the license
    To burn the curtains of immodesty

    And ultimately the candle is
    Consumed by its own wick.

    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 228w

    Isn't it beautiful?

    I grow old in your love
    And you become young
    By my love.

    My heart of wax melted
    After receiving a secret
    Wrapped in your hot breaths.

    The curtains upon my senses
    Attracted fire and turned into Ash
    While ' Tabraiz ' disappeared
    But where did he go?

    Rumi captivated him
    And concealed him inside his chest
    Where none but he sees him.

    Isn't that beautiful Asif ?

    You divorce sanity
    With a mere drop
    While Rumi digested the
    whole wine house

    Now when Rumi speaks
    He sings of ' Tabraiz '

    The scholars call him as Rumi
    But only the lovers know
    His real name.

    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 229w

    Papa

    POEM: PAPA
    Taking out some cubes of time
    Out from the frozen tray of timelessness
    My past arrested me
    And made me sit with it
    Under the black blanket of night
    So, it could read itself to me.
    It started with 'pashmeeen'
    In weaving which its father
    Remained a master
    Who turned the ugly and torn
    Threads of people into a beautiful cloth 'Pashmeeen'
    My threads weren't ugly
    They weren't torn even
    Papa! Papa!
    You produce beautiful things
    Out of such ugly stuff
    Won't you even prepare a simple
    Cloth for your lone son
    Which could keep me warm
    During the winters of poverty.
    Why are your hands trembling papa!
    I beg you to please accept the threads
    Of my ill luck.
    You aren't the same superman
    You used to be
    May be you never were one .

    ©asifkhan

  • asifkhan 229w

    Ye Qubool karta hun may 'Asif '
    K muje wafa ki samaj nahi.
    Magr mujse mohahbat karkay
    Muje wo ilm - e - wafaa kyu nhi sikha deta

    ©asifkhan