Pakkhiwas

It seems abhorrent, so profane, the attempt at articulation of pulse but then again, there is no alternative to communication now, is it? As the sea and the sea of sand engulf the space I nervously saunter on, I fidget to figure out the unease that palls my heart—the trembleintheeye .
My friend, my bane, with a towering frame, we are together for better or for worse, for now.
Within the veins that run gasoline, do you not see the the beatifiction of a million maggots and the illoveries they chew and threw?
I wonder about this face of yours, this taste of yours for the knife.
On thurstday night, the parasitynight you paint it bright with flashyflash, in a gluttering dash.
You look so proud so incessantly cared only to watsch it all scared lest I hear the deafeatning howl—horrolific ululation from a plundered ghoul.

As I pack my bags and we bid adieus, I question the relationship we have (Or rather you have with so many of us Pakkhiwases). I am not oblivious to the irony: I feed the monster I deride.

If I can't fly a kite when I want to because my government can pass a law to limit that, doesn't it diminish my liberty ?
Where does it stop ? Is executive/judicial over-reach a concept too alien to us or we don't see that if we let government legislate bits of our personal lives under pressure from religious right, we will loose even the sense of liberty ?
It shouldn't be a liberal cause, it should be everyone's.

Veena Malik, you go girl

She just kicked that stupid Mullah's ass.

Oh my God! It was pure ecstasy to watch her rip that ass apart.

We anonymous Fucktards & Salman Taseer

When religious birds threw their stones ripping the flesh, baring the bones
You stood tall, you bore our cross and the crowd waved and laughed

What celebration, what joyous glee; another blasphemy; another blood spree
and round and round the fervor goes; heaven's winds, seventy two hoors

And we stand aside, the silent and tamed ; impotent bastards spineless and shamed
We bicker and moan and raise a ruckus; as long as no-one names our names

(whatever happened to principle, us fucks)


And hence Salam Taseer died; Twenty seven bullets lodged in his body. Yeah, I see the irony of reversing the number to seventy two, the same number of virgins that asshole dreamt of before pulling the trigger.
And what do we secular intellectuals do? We fucking moan anonymously.



Yes, the sky is not red today, nor the black engulfs the air
A little blood on an Islamabad street, its not Armageddon, they say

These people with their buckets of God
These people, the idiots, we've stayed away …

We still rather sit on this cozy sofa, with our fancy books
Animated rage, vanilla cappuccino, blogs we type away

Deep in shit, in this joke of our yoke
Lets light a candle for this black day

For what else can cowards like us do?