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The Explosion

Every day I die,
Every day I born
Amidst all this terror and turmoil,
As the blissful peace shatters

The Flour Deaths

Do we need?
The question on their lips
The hatred in their hearts
As they died in the stampede
Of our failures and demise!

The Day I Became Free

The day I became free
From sacrifices of the past
Of my own and millions
To wear this smile

The Politics

Politics is beauty, the endangered specimen
Us, the proponents of change and progression
Inspect we must ourselves it’s still time

Around Us (Betrayal of Conscience)

Around Us depicts those events that are currently taking place in Pakistan and how it has weakened our moral fabric, the intangible conscience and all that makes us what we are not.

In My Veins, In My Blood

It’s our turn; we will not remain in fear
If challenge is to come, then embrace
We will, as failures not an option

Section 144

From the avenues of power
Deployed they section 144,
To stop and to arrest,
The human conscience
And will of millions

Long March Poem

In all these years in our memory
In all these moments in our sight
Never that rapture or passion
Never there was a moment
To unite for purpose and oppression
To break this silence, to protest
For our rights, until now

Nightingale of Pukhtoonwala: Rehman Baba

The old Pushtu poet
Carried in his words,
The echoes of peace and music

Cockroaches of Disruption

The process of peace, the process of change
As the deal are struck, as deal are brokered
Through rumors and disobedience
To the nation, the silent witness

Honor Killings in Babakot

Those beautiful faces, our daughters
Gone forever, heads sunk in grief
As words betray us, to describe
Heinous crimes and we call ourselves
The followers of prophet and Islam

In Memory of Ahmed Faraz

We will miss him and words
That breathed revolution
Death can only bring whispers
But words, a torrent of revolution

Long Live Pakistan

From 1947, the day we became free
As we stand, to celebrate another year
From Waziristan to distant corners,
Lies there the evidence, of our endeavors

The Peacock Moments

Hope cannot be lost or forgotten
Carry they will these droplets of rain
Change will arrive, peace will reside
The old effect, the peacock moments!

Long March

In thousands, we will march, for change
Hear you will my friends, not far away
The days of change and nights of comfort
Walk with me, as each step gathers its storm

Myanmar Disaster

“Dedicated to the people of Burma in their hour of need………but stands there, the government and its obstacles “!!!

Chillchinga, the US Soldier

The only desire now
To go home
To converse few words
In Spanish as he pays the price
For migration and adventure

Inside you

As colour drift apart from painter’s brush
Says the picture, I am inside you
As the ocean turns itself upside down
Says the fish I am still inside you

My Brother, My Killer

See you not me, as of your own
See you not me, as of your kind
See you not me, as I am your blood

Me, not you

Thousand times I have stared
At existence of you and mine
Of what we are and have become

Kibera Inside and Outside

Bullets inside my head
And hunger outside me
I am a little child
My mother gone

Pakistan

Another day descends into its history
Of bloodshed, ignorance and plunder
Who shall we blame, the west or Islam

The Missing Pakistanis

Where are those souls
Into wilderness, they disappeared
Like autumn leaves,
With no traces

The Nicotine Fingers

I have
In my possession
Not much but few
Belongings of my own

Six Minutes

The changing world,
Continuation of destruction
Through volcanoes and winds

Of No Importance

I need to move,
To some other place
Away from all this mayhem

The Muffled Rage

These fragmented sentences and paragraphs are like those human parts and our character as a nation dispersed all over these streets of Karachi.

Terra Cotta Soldiers

In thousands, they departed
To defend, to extend

The Becoming of Knight

Long time ago,
They shed blood
For religion and for glory

The Keys

Invite me back
My home and mountains
Let me remain sane
So I can converse again

The Orange Monks

They move together
Unarmed and in silence

The Rape of the Nation

The nation awaits
Not its messiahs and inspiration
Not from their leaders
Not from their politicians

The Chair

At no cost, I will leave
This chair and its power

Kashkin Dabruski

• Articles on Chowk: 33
• First article: Sep 19, 2007
• Latest article: Nov 6, 2009
• Times read on Chowk: 147655