میں آپ کو ہر بار جب میں تمہیں دیکھتا ہوں یاد آتی ہے
میں آپ کو ہر وقت مجھے نہیں یاد آتی ہے

The shadow on the screen

I cannot describe: 
The curve of your smile
The arch of your eyebrows
The depths of your eyes
The power of your wink


All I can do is sit transfixed
Utterly beguiled
And hopelessly in awe
Powerless to think and write

My Ghost In My Machine

Hanging on by a thread of desperation

My eyes fall upon you

Called upon by forces ethereal

You have saved me each day

From the inertia of being

And not being.

My ghostly fantasy

Played out in my head

And on my screen

Becoming all too real so that

Reality and fiction is blurred

Assuredly a disappointment.

Pain of being is sometimes far too hard to bear
The relief of not being is a constant companion
Ready to take my hand and whisk me away
Into a soothing and timeless oblivion.

Trust...

As fragile as a spider's web,
As tricky and sticky too,
The deadly mistake I made,
Was to put my trust in you.

Did I invent this or did I see it somewhere?

Stop waiting for tomorrow's pleasures.

Changing Woman....

I stand upon the brink

Terrified and inert

Change is afoot

And I deny and delay

Through Fear.

I am Fear’s captive

His willing victim

Everytime

Sabotaging myself at will.

Submissive to his masterful hand.

Come to me now my warrior soul

The inner me that fights

The Kali within that

Decapitates Fear

And bears his head

In victory.

Death to my tyrants 

My inner demons

Death to the saboteur.

Life, love and change for the better 

To me the victor.

Young Bloke

Young Bloke

In me twenties on drugs 'n' booze 
I got nuffink t'lose
The world is a fog and a haze 
Of crazy times, larfs and snogs
And beer and gear
Bring on the weed
And the munchies

I look well sharp
Can't remember when I last washed
But the Lynx covers it all
The bitches don't notice
They've snorted same as me
Buggered sinuses 
Fucking and fucked.

The crystal makes me fly
But the day after is hell
How long can I keep this up?
Fuck knows 
My childhood dreams went up
In the smoke of my joints. 

Is God the ultimate bingo caller?