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Rafique Farooqi

My Soul Needs A Face

i am going from my home,
wherever i am to go,
i will be back to my home,
i willl need it., to be at home.
or it will be my dream to be at home, if i am unable to return.
it is part of my life.
it is my soul,
that needs a structure,
a face to be someone,
my soul needs me,
to be someone,
my soul needs my face.
To face the life.

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Life

Keeping with precarious existence,
life moves with,
inertial steps,
to do a little,
When soil soaked with tears,
weekend breaths smelling foul,
steep wall standing ahead,
Opaque dream overnight,
thunder storm roaring aloud,
One desire of hunting beast,
blowing bruite in the ears,
Paining corns on feet,
and journey.
make me tired

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Right But Late

Strains stretching,
my neurotic spells,
and hate rendering,
whatsoever,
the humour burning to miser,
staring walls with design of ill.
Glottis to strangulate,
with hopeless utter,
and crying feebled to hoarse,
Like a bird to disapear in horizon
and desire longed to finish,
like candle thread,
another desert stands to cross along,
and feet to blister with hot sand,
storm is to blow his wistles,
like hiss of snake, .
and mine struggles are right but late,

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Born On A Tree

Your pleasure,
to deprive him of his liberty,
is counter to your silent pride
over your spasmodic laughs
when you talk of,
invented tastes
to sip the yolk,
and crunch of eggshells
why to give
savage wolf his taste
by irony to favour
and disgrace to nest
with audible whiff
of his spread wings
sharp breeze tickled
with sparkling wines
as he learned from the sea
also his vanity
to find his savory,
and you shed light

[...] Read more

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The Boy With His Guitar

Putting his little fingers,
on the strings of his guitar,
a serene boy looked to the sky,
pointed his eyes to stars,
while the night growing in dreams,
he brought his art to extremes,
and notes began floating to the heavens,
the empty silence filled all,
with sweet rhythm of his thought,
and dew drops coming down like mists,
and musk of heavens,
soothing around,
he paused for a while,
and told me with a smile,
my mother is living with stars,
she loves my guitars,
when i play my guitar,
she makes tears of dew,
i see her in colors and hue.

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Rage Of Honour

Rumble of sparkling,
awaking the peace hating,
monster minded,
licking the victory songs,
written on walls of history,
with ancient spells,
roaring in the dark caves,
back for hunting,
the heads of ages,
again unsheathing their swords,
of ill design.
mothers crying,
for new borns,
and sun eaten by eclipse,
and the blood of civil,
quenching the thirst of evil,
and the suicidal bombers
invading the streets,
with virulent aims,
poisoning the ears,

[...] Read more

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Tornaments

i dream, i promise,
i break up,
i shatter,
like unstable,
moments,
in the life,
countless,
in occasions,
but,
i still wonder,
over,
my internal distortions,
viable,
noises, raised up to neck,
occasional severity,
in behavior disorder,
and shutdown,
of all random priorities,
to pay breaths as ransom,
to life,

[...] Read more

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