Sadiqullah Khan

The great Unitarian
With names disgusting
Abhorred the command supreme
Unto his way till the end
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The day when you were standing in front of me
And when I just because of sheer excitement
Of being close to you and having faced you
When suddenly I felt that some spirit has possessed me
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A thousand flowers sprout in the bosom
The dreams of the years gone now subdued
In the wake of reality that descends
Like waves after waves on the shore
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Until I have broken the form
Until madness has not prevailed
Until I am not drunk dead
Until my mind speaks the sense
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Alone in this loneliness
Loved ones memories
Like possessions valuable
Out from the closets
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The great poet the lover the mystic
Who wrote recipes for the broken hearts
Spake of the rubies jewels of Bagram
The curvaceous beauties from India
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Hast thou seen my love many times
The morning dew or the dusk in the eve
For the lovers’ caravan to the tavern goes
Neither mosque nor temple
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Her hands were holding the moon in firm grip
Like dreams she might not she knew one day
In dark of the night she will seek all life
Like God I peeped into the kitten's play
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Ah the addiction of love
Like chocolate in despair
A fairy tale to the young
Like a cup of coffee made
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The beloved’s street I avoided
In repentance of the sin in puritan desires
I held to the world my hands for alms
For songs for the beloveds of Solomon
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The small girl was sold like a slave
The middle man cuddling her with a candy
The fat house wife suffered blues
From the riches in her neighbors
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Some flowery speech
Comatose
Was not unlike
Music from reed
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Butterflies in pairs
Racing for highest flights
Birds on the stems now in trees
Music of silence some sweet songs
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From freedom
To security
Checked
searched
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The city of dreams
In conspiracy with nature
Too long indulgence
When it lay bare
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From nothing to being
And from being to nothing
Long way
The question of if
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The transcendental value
Put upon the word crazed
Otherwise the word insane
Her sounds not commonly intelligible
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My hands heal
My hands grow
I shall rise too
This murder will cause you
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Guilt is not to be doubted Franz Kafka wrote
The human has been tied to the guilt of not having done
What said the God or his prophets what the society ordained
What the preachers say the first man was killed
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