Desicritics Author: Kashkin

Poem: Only The Light

Kashkin — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 10:42:31 EDT

Absent and not in view
The golden words of our past
Still there, an old craving to explore
Only in view, the shackles of time
The separation of days from its demise
As I write, to form a soul
Of once that was, now a dream

As I labor to turn,
The old wheels of fortune
In the land of my ancestors and poets
Only the words I have
At my disposal and at my service
As I rotate with the earth and its burdens
Through labyrinth of time and space
Not guilty my conscience and my soul
Of all my crimes, still there some peace
Always in debt to serve, in tattered clothes
The land up in smoke and in fury of hatred

When will you awake, from this slumber?
Of mayhem and of shames,
What will you do to these traditions of past
The murderous routines and ghastly crimes
The future is yours, belongs it to you
Only the steps, you need to take
Silence is a crime if you chose to remain
In surrender to the desires of the world
The glory will come, only if you refrain
From these acts of crime, to your land
Plenty of enemies in view but it's within
Distinguish it well, as there it remains
The clues to your success and dreams

Hold it well and keep it close
The memories of your past
The promise of the future
Shine, my friends, shine
As it is in there you will find
The story of your being and its land
Do not wait or hope for others to come
Summon your souls and bodies to perform
The miracles of change, the miracle of unity
It's time for you to form a soul
Still there, an old craving to explore
In shackles of time and despair of days
Only the light, only the light, in your fate

Poem: Nightingale of Pukhtoonwala (Rehman Baba)

Kashkin — Fri, 6 Mar 2009 07:08:13 EST

Here he rests
The old nightingale
In its peace and grave,
From the descendants
Of an old tribe and its code
The old settlers, at the outskirts
Through years of travel
The poet, in mausoleum of words

The old Pushtu poet
Carried in his words,
The echoes of peace and music
The Old Sufi
Carried in his soul,
The echoes of unity and humility
From the old rivers to its tribes
The imagination that were to capture
For centuries across the time
The old love affair,
With land and its descendants
Now lies in ruins, his words,
The resting place, in holes

Call they themselves
The proponents of change
By destruction and rope,
By death and by smoke
The old echoes still there,
In those fallen grounds
Live I not in the mausoleum
But in those hearts
Of millions that came,
And millions that are now
Never will you succeed,
I am them and they are me,
Bounded by the music
And the legends of this place
Mountains are my witness
And my words, the echo
Of distant past and now yours,

What is it you gained, if gain it is you say,
Maimed you have the old past and its land
The brutality of invaders to the heart that is stone
Inside you, as you have killed yourself
Worry not for me, but for the future ahead
I will always be there in my words
See you must with your own soul
Those moments of peace
As I hear your footsteps in my awake
I am already dead, what more can you do
Killed you have yourself, as I cry for you
In my words, in my land, of distant times
Now the playground, for devil to claim
The imaginary stakes and the real crimes
Remember, it's in you, the old music
Claim it, the nightingales of time!

Poem: Oxygen

Kashkin — Sun, 1 Mar 2009 01:32:39 EST

Let the rhythms of this existence
In this time and space,
And the dimensions unknown
Find you, as you grow old
Of thousands years in between
Through knowledge and wisdom

Remain in place of all that is,
Awaits you, these moments
Of mirth and glory
Remain in place, around you
Your home, where you roam
As those lions in Serengeti

Let the happiness find you
As you find all, the world
Through these celestial skies
The celebration,
The moments of arrival
As the adventure begins
Of life and of its memories!

Poem: The African Poet

Kashkin — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 01:25:17 EST

There sits a man, in the corner,
There sits a book, here with me
Woven in words, built by hands of labor
All in there, as the verses begin to bind
The human hears, the old souls

Colors of creation from sweat and blood
Travel they like caravans of the night
Language that once had riders, facing sun
Now in repose, in silence,
For others to see
Its effects, as the journey begins
To emerge from the long dusty roads

There sits my friend, an old friend,
In the distance, in shadows,
As Africa unveils
Its beauty and its splendor,
Through words and fields of joy
Built in me, built by you
Of old language, that once conquered
The world, the huge civilization

Rode they like warriors with passion
From one land to another,
There sits a man, from his journey
Of old days, from the poets corner
As the rivers empty the burden, into an ocean
The old story of humans and their makings
The trails of our adventures in its elation
There sits a man, in the corner
There sits a book, with me, in silence!

Poem: Questions & Answers

Kashkin — Sat, 8 Nov 2008 05:19:27 EST

Questions are asked for change,
Opinions that raise doubt and more
As the evening withdraws itself
From the shadows
Of the day and its carnage
Are we nearer to those moments?
Drawn and fabricated for progression

So where is that change
How long we are to remain
In hope for others to come
It's us, who need to change,
It's for us to become nation's history
To bring voices from all quarters
To be heard, to be acted

We all know of the problems
We have all tried the old fruits
It's time to say NO, and move
Protection we need from ourselves
The problem not others, we are

And in us, lies, the answer for all
We must change, we must change
But hear you not your own voice,
Only the noise from distant lands
Sweet and tempting, as you fall!

Poem: Children of Congo

Kashkin — Thu, 6 Nov 2008 11:53:07 EST

Your war
Then why us
Or is it mine
Then why you
Or is it of the rebels
Then why us

Your land
Or my land
Or is it of the rebels

Only our hands and hunger
You depict, in the pictures
Only you fight for land and greed
Not for hunger and poverty
Old politics hard to let go
As you walk past my remains
Carved out
From your shells and bullets

I remember you once
Stood here with all in idealism
Now only the ash
You return, to thank us.

The Disease Called "Indifference"

Kashkin — Sat, 1 Nov 2008 07:54:08 EDT

There is no cure for indifference
It kills, it maims, it destroys, it breeds
Flows like blood in our veins and existence
Benefit we cannot neither from past or future
As we see tombs built from its marble and wood
Neither the locksmith can unlock or the scholar
Like an old disease it roams in our land

See we all day our morals and ethics
As it shackles the conscience, in me and you
As we destroy ourselves through its mechanics
Indifference has no cure, it offers us no peace
Conscience is far away, like flown away birds
Remain in view, the old excuses and of drama
Build we houses to protect our siblings and progeny
Built have we nothing, only the hollow pride
Of progression and of change as we beg

In this barren and dry land, only the heart
That aches all we see, all we live, all we breathe
Of no use living in the past, only we can learn
Open up, through tolerance and understanding
Contribute through wisdom and from action
Disappear it will, as night dissolves into light
to the edge of world, in liberation, in peace!

Kashkin

Balochistan (The Earthquake Poem)

Kashkin — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 14:57:56 EDT

THEY NEED OUR HELP, SUPPORT AND ALL WHAT WE CAN DO, AS THEY ARE US, AND WE ARE THEM in this hour of their need.

I am beyond those limitations
Of suffering and indifference
Years of neglect, and its toll
The divine gifts and its effect
All in presence, all to witness

The land is barren and dry
Full of life, are humans , carries
The message and its formation
All there to be seen, to witness
Through years of neglect

In me, marks of civilization
Remain in me, the natural reservoirs
Carry they with me with pride
The people of my land
Carry they with me hate
The rulers of this land,

Not a trace left in me of anger
Devoid I am off this beauty
Of conformance and criteria
When will they return to me
The gift of wisdom and education

Too long it has been, too little
done to avoid, the eventual fate
never they realise, the rights
of this land and its inhabitants
only in speeches, only in papers

Stand I alone, stand I remote
The recipient of fate and the dance
Signatures of past, and promises
Absent, and those hearts still await
The moment of justice, and peace
The missing component, remains
the irony of the past, land of the pure!

Poem: Swat

Kashkin — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 03:35:36 EDT

Wrapped up in million stars this old sky,
As they stare from little windows of existence
From the wooden bridge, in the mountains
As the mist rises in its colors of remembrance,
There lies the valley, where beauty is suicidal
There lies home, where protection is nature
All in there, fleeting glance or permanence
The old days of reflection, spent in between
As they whisper, ode to change and for help

In there, lies the answer to our quest for brutality
As the smoke arises from snows of purity
The blood that flows in human rivers
Amidst beautiful snow, amidst gravity
As the new born find its feet and face
There melts, the human misery now
As seeds of this disease, reaches them
No longer forbidden and remote,
In all these years of its formation

Flows there our blood in this valley
Of you and me, as we kill all in our names
The great sacrifice to our voices of conscience
Wrapped up in million stars, this sky
As they stare from little windows of existence
At you, at me, this unbearable pain
As the new born find its feet and face!

Kashkin

Poem: One Thousand and One Nights

Kashkin — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 00:46:18 EDT

Dispersed in the desert, within my remains,
An old existence and its beginnings,
In the distance, my home,
My village, remote and silent,
In my disappearance, in my absence
Seek this knowledge, let it seek you,
Become a light, let this light be you
Exist I in this imagination and fragrance
Become the flower, as thorns will come
In its days and nights, be prepared,
Here I am dispersed, within my remains
My six year old sky, in a violent turmoil
Remain you will there, until it finds you
The metaphors, like the drunkard's to the glass
Like the intoxication to the mind in time
Remain in there, you will till it finds you
Those oceans in blue and green, beyond this place
This desert is your home, let the desert become you
Master your soul, let your soul become you,
In silence you will remain for years to come,
In silence, you will witness the trails of time
In silence, you will learn, let it prevails upon you
Dance you will, in your boredom and hunger
let this dance become you, in balance and poise
Freedom not easy to understand, let it become you
Here I am in this desert, the desert in me
My village remote and silent, in my disappearance

Resume I my journey, as this journey becomes me
Learn I these words, until the words become me
As I lie there in white sheets, with fever
As I begin to wonder, as the wonder becomes me.
As nights begin to eat, my silence and my remains
As fear begins to embolden, as it becomes me
As those writings on the wall, loose it s meaning
As those gestures, human, disappear like winds
Remain you will in your sickness, remain you will
In this state, until it becomes you, let it prosper
My only companion, my only friends, an old book
One thousand and one nights, the old gift
Covered in thousand mist, covered in rainbows
The old gift, in the desert and in its winds
As I become a butterfly, as the butterfly become me

As I lay there, in my fever, with no words of comprehension
As I lay there, in my bed, with no logic and wisdom
As I see this existence to disintegrate in my dreams
As I hear voices in my head, as the voices become me
An old wish, never to surrender, until it becomes you
Recite this to me, the old stories of an Old Persian king,
Recite this to me, the old story of queen and her stories,
Embroidered in magic, clad in lamps, in its appearance
And of those oceans, the distant oceans I will travel
As the stories of deceit become me, as I become those characters
In me, the old towns and streets, of strange names and colors
Recite this my friend, as this butterfly remain with me
As the mind become words, and the words a mind
As the hands become swords, and swords a forlorn figure
As I leave unnoticed in those pages, as disappearance becomes me
Remain in there, the old paintings, and animals in view
As they become my friends, as I become theirs

Travel I with these stories, to places unknown
Travel I to these places, in moments unknown
To return back to the desert, for comfort and love
Hear you will us not, they say, hear you don't,
Poison this is , for your mind and your state,
Entrapped you are in your world, as we begin
As I begin to see, this reality, and this world
Talk you to me these places, travelled I have already
These pages have wings, these stories have fuel
I sleep well; I sleep fine, in those thousand and one
Nights, and nights long and peaceful, as I sleep
As it becomes me, as I become them,
The old sailors, the old valor and vessels of legend,
As they bring me the warmth, of their distant days
Upon their entrance, those kings, as I become them
As I in shadows, witness, the acts of love and laughter
As I remain hidden, in my world and theirs
Remain there the old light, the old lamp
As they become my world, as I become theirs
Not a pact, not a deal just an old understanding
And this old butterfly with me, with names
Different, names distant, the old gift
Arrives she with legends and stories in my dreams
Never will I lose sight, never will it lose sight
As silence dawns, as I sleep with wonder and magic
As the old lamp guards me, from the nights of desert
Enough light in there, for me to become what I am
As those jinns and creatures, my characters, my friends
Depart they never, the story never ends,
As death not the end, only the end is of moments
When stories are born, when characters are drawn
Sharper than those swords, in their demise and elation

Become I those thousand and one nights in my remains
Become I like that king, become I like that queen,
Become I her story, become she mine, my story
The old tales, the old magic, the old splendor
The hidden towns, castles and rivers of wine
As those travels become mine, as I theirs
Still in me the old desert, as this butterfly with me
In thousand and one nights, in my life and words

Turn into sailors and their masks and swords
Hear I them from a distant and inside me,
You are us and we you, remember the old pact
As they old fishermen and their tales
Cast and its spell, as I am bounded by its glory
Of me and my remains, inside, frozen forever

Dispersed in the desert, within my remains,
An old existence and its beginnings,
In the distance, my home,
My village, remote and silent,
In my disappearance, in my absence
Seek this knowledge, let it seek you,
Become a light, let this light be you
Exist I in this imagination and fragrance
Become the flower, as thorns will come
In its days and nights, be prepared,
Here I am dispersed, within my remains
My six year old sky, in a violent turmoil
Remain you will there, until it finds you
The metaphors, like the drunkard's to the glass
Like the intoxication to the mind in time
Remain in there, you will till it finds you
Those oceans in blue and green, beyond this place
This desert is your home, let the desert become you
Master your soul, let your soul become you,
In silence you will remain for years to come,
In silence, you will witness the trails of time
In silence, you will learn, let it prevails upon you
Dance you will, in your boredom and hunger
Let this dance become you, in balance and poise
Freedom not easy to understand let it become you
Here I am in this desert, the desert in me
My village remote and silent, in my disappearance!