Muhammad Khan

Muhammad Khan Poems

Muhammad Khan Biography

Muhammad Nasrullah Khan is a Pakistani-Canadian writer. His short stories are well-recognized internationally for his unique prose style, and really naive innocence of rural life of Asia. His short stories Donkey-Man and Only Nada Lives were nominated for the Story South Million Writers Award. Enlivened by the stories of great English and Russian writers, he has taken a pinch of fact and a cup of fiction to weave an embroidered creative work of adoration, trust, and agony in his stories. His work has appeared in Adbusters, Evergreen review, Indiana Voice Journal, Newtopia Magazine, Gowanus Books, Offcourse literary Journal University at Albany, The Raven Chronicles, and many others. His book is available on Amazon: https: //www.amazon.com/dp/B08D7WZXVL)

The Best Poem Of Muhammad Khan

We Were Born To Clap

Dear First World, Salute to you
Accept humble bow, from the Third World.
Thank you for the great lectures for fucking idiots.
Heads hung low, wide-eyed,
we clapped.

You sold us your notion of humanity,
we lived in a barbaric world.
You bombed to end the atrocities.
The boisterous sound of your missiles came over our heads,
we clapped.

You sent us tattered clothes,
and dried milk,
you gifted us stale food.
Wow!
We clapped.

A few of us declined your orders,
and ran to caves,
we saw burnt bones.
Your president called us rats,
We clapped.

You hanged our leaders,
cheered the dictators,
crushed skulls, and scarred souls,
'Surrender and live, ' your president yelled,
we clapped.

Our women heard the faint screams,
and fell to their knees crying,
their silent prayers stuck between earth and sky.
You were the people of God; we the creeping creatures,
we clapped.

We grew up applauding you,
We forgot who we were,
Our heroes bled in silence,
Our haggard faces spoke of fear,
We clapped.

You selected some of us to live in your heaven,
I was one of those who always clapped,
now I was a proud human,
away from the dirt of the Third World,
I clapped.

I met an old man on a shiny pathway,
carrying a box of empty bottles.
He looked at my bottle and said, I sell bottles.
There was loneliness and hunger in his eyes.
I cried.

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