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[mehrab-e-azam]

Always // Never

Always // Never Never again // Once again All but one // All but none

[mehrab-e-azam]

Chapter 4, Verse 6:

as all things come to an end,

deceit reaches its end with a flaw,

a flaw in plans, a flaw for a flaw,

a king with a hand, a match, and a draw.

an escape made my flaws seem such,

that an end was in the making, so royal,

and as more were killed over a razor,

the diamond killed them all again.

[mehrab-e-azam]

Kitchen Table

I sit on the chair near the kitchen table with coffee in my hand. And this time, for the first time in a long time, I feel the urge to stay. The pull of home and although it may be silent, hits like waves in the middle of the ocean.Night comes, as day comes, and night follows again, until the sun rises back up. And I am aware that in just a half-hour, darkness will creep again. But do we not live…

[mehrab-e-azam]

Cardboard Boxes.

And, now I will take the pleasureof reminding you, the brief exitis finally here, and is among us.It is brief – but make no mistake!It is grand in it’s ways, a ritual untold,and the anxiety that lingers aroundis absolutely repulsive. I wish I had-No, I rather I didn’t.

[mehrab-e-azam]

Cold

The water is too cold. Sometimes the weather is beautiful, you feel the smack you in the face, you’re glad for not having the sun’s rays. And then you step down, you grab a mug of coffee, and sit by the pool. It’s windy. Just beside today, it’s too windy. Too cold to swim today.Too cold, indeed.

[mehrab-e-azam]

Remembrance.

Now, people have less idea of what they remember. Maybe they remember nothing at all. Maybe they remember each and every thing that happened. Maybe they remember their own version of all that happened. There were victims, nobody understood. There was a promise of trust and loyalty. Then we dug up the mud and searched far and wide for this problem that still haunts us. Once they understood, and…

[mehrab-e-azam]

ask not, the condition of the affected.

[mehrab-e-azam]

and after a while, every hand that touches you feels similar.

[mehrab-e-azam]

Chapter 1, Verse 2

a film so cold, in a soviet theatre full of Bolsheviks, no, not the men with Lenin, the men after. and then soon, there shall be a war with all kith and kin, with angry heads and red faces, with blood in mind. and a lifeless body.

[mehrab-e-azam]

Chapter 1, Verse 1

the razor runs across the cheek, I'm blind beyond contempt. and while pain is my mistress, your hands hold my despair. I reckon a false death for a false man. on a true cause, with a false plan. the shave without, the cap we wear, inclinations, and a mad stare

[mehrab-e-azam]

what otherwise feels like inception.

this anxiety kills me, gives me a head to lose, a mind to think, a bed to lay in, turning in desperation. what is of the past is of the past, so this book tells me, a head to ache, a mind to burn, a reason to stay, remaining in such. the curtain has folded, giving me no choice, the release of what never will be, so this year gets me. with no rain, just sunshine, awfully bright and wilfully dark, it all comes back, but the truth is nothing. this truth burdens me, a body to weaken, a mind to numb, misunderstood as i live in a world, where nobody lives at all. do not blame me for saying the strange, do not burden me with more, because, this anxiety kills me, gives me a mind to lose, an eye to blink, a grave to lay in, sighing with relief.

[mehrab-e-azam]

a red mind

Oh how terrible I have been, A sound not made is a new beginning. A bullet here, a laathi there, A small town amidst a country burning. 

 A rose petal fallen into red wine, With red shoes, and a red mind, With a black book and a white pen, For a red death, for a red life.

A home made, for the red eyes, For bloody veins, for the left side, On a mirror glass, full of cracks too, Tell me dear, won't you be red tonight?

Under red skies, under red clouds, Let blood fall, ring the bell sound, Hellish screams, but it's oh so sweet. Tell me darling, won't you be red with me?

[mehrab-e-azam]

Wife, Pt. II

matte colored, the paint on the nail fading away, I fight with you too much, don't I? mind and matter, both propagandists of the very thing we both are scared of. blame the dying autumn leaves, blame the cherry growing out of a dead plant. a product of impatience, a product of damage.

the sky was once filled with breeze and calm, not the red of it's own creation. soul and none, both propagandists of the very thing that fades. but what doesn't, is colored nude. the paint on the nail fading away, I fight with you too much, don't I?

if my intentions were any different, I wouldn't be at war, would I? if my maker had a book, insistent as it has survived, for the color on our flag fading away, I fight with you too much, don't I?

[mehrab-e-azam]

Слава Ленину.

[mehrab-e-azam]

"Petrograd (Saint Petersburg), July 4, 1917 2PM. Street demonstration on Nevsky Prospekt just after troops of the Provisional Government have opened fire with machine guns.”

[mehrab-e-azam]

An aphorism is a concise, terse, laconic, or memorable expression of a general truth or principle. They are often handed down by tradition from generation to generation.

Aphorism, Wikipedia