Category: Bothered.

Breaking News

When the value of life
drops below freezing point
when they march under commands
like brain dead beings

when the sun rises to its peak
but there is feeble light
Dark times ahead
you call the future bright?

when news gives you immunity
violence converted to words
I know not who died
But I know to avoid that herd

like sheep slaughtered for meat
their deaths become statistics
a speech drives the issue further
they argue on who did this

a storm overtook that town
property and lives were lost
with children and women left to drown
poor people, don’t give a toss

I know this country is no more safe
where blasts are heard by a mile
more guns and bullets will calm it down
they say it’ll take a while

some call it war, some collateral damage
I am left to pick the description
it’s clear what happened
blood spilled and battered
yet media makes a vague depiction

there is no law, but many to eat
under powers they confide
foreign pressure, a victim, an oppressor
which town is safe to reside

with masks worn, souls torn
culprits roam undisturbed
it shouldn’t bother me, I’m away from it all
yet ignoring seems absurd

And tomorrow I wake up
with more breaking news,
more souls sold for money
One thing I know, human life is cheap
under evil forms of tyranny.


Don’t obsess.

So what’s with this obsession of losing enough weight until you look close enough to a skeleton with flesh mixed with make up on top.  It’s horrific, it’s foul and it’s driving all the women to insecurity and in a race to lose weight!!!

Funny when you flip through magazines, one minute they are trying to do their just cause of highlighting a celebrity (such as Victoria Beckham) looking very anorexic in her super-skinny dress and the next page is all about how to lose weight. Seriously… what exactly are you saying?

Oh camon, this woman is seriously deprived of good food. Imagine being filthy rich and dieting enough to look like you’ve just come from Africa’s poorest country. And could only fit into children’s clothing. =)

There are so many things out there to make you feel like your the ugly one. But just look at all these unhappy, size 0 celebrities. Don’t you see its not easy being famous? Don’t you see their whole life has become so aritificial and controlled by the media? I really pity them for all the pressure that’s put on them. They looked so much prettier when they were themselves, without their plastic surgeries and anorexic diet regimes.

And I will tell all my girls, You’re all so beautiful. Don’t let any brainwashing magazine, movie, model or ANYTIHNG let you feel down or depressed. Just be your real self, be original, wear less make up because you really don’t need layers of chemicals on your face =D, treat yourself for desserts and enjoy life, enjoy being you.

And now I can finally enjoy some home made pasta.  :p

I am the child… Draped

I am the child
draped in darkness
Enslaved by a world of richness
I am the child
for a drop of water
a piece of bread
while those who wear
my blood sweat and tears
parade with pride
in their polished shoes
throwing a generous penny
on my bare feet

I am the child
Infested by agony
inlficted by their whip
on my bruised naked flesh
I am the child carrying
No memories of the past
No happiness of the present
nor hope for the future
only a baby sister
deprived of food
living to see
a world full of fortune
derived from her own
blood sweat and tears

Will I remain
Draped under darkness
in a cruel world of Richness?

A ring of memories.

And there it rained down, the love left in mankind. A bang! Then dispersion… then disorder. Men ran, men fell, men blasted into pieces. Injuries proclaimed the breaking of a few dozen legs, a few dozen arms, though their torsos still breathed. The glass was not half empty but half full.
My organ called a Heart, ached at first. I can’t recall why. It was probably oblivious to the fact that this was to become an everyday scenario in this land. A land many miles away. A land that had a ring of memories attached to it.
The memories began at the balcony of a rising sun, ablaze with spectrum of yellows and reds. The break of dawn was followed by the racket caused by external cues. Such as those birds that twittered so loud like they were about to party. They had so much to talk about.
Maybe they planned to travel all around the land, and explore its magnificence. Maybe they wanted to hum on top of the tall minaret in Iqbal Park, called the Minar-e-Pakistan and celebrate their independence. Or they probably were up to no good and had planned to sneak into a picnic party in Jinnah Park.
Or were they just thanking God to have provided them with a land, full of wonders to ponder upon, of valleys to praise, of bounties to discover.
The curtain of nightfall draped over this land unusually late, bringing with it a star-strewn sky. There was never much time to sleep whilst the cities glittered with artificial lights, smelt of aroma of spices and echoed with the sounds of celebration. I headed into the malls, which were even more packed with people, with families, with friends, ready to have another great night out.
It was alive, whether night or day.

The memories blur out now, and I am forced back on to the present grounds. It hits me hard. Breaking news flashes across the television again. Another blast! More dispersion… more disorder. Another mastermind behind the hatred that slaps my face and is suffered unjustifiably by others.
My mind becomes a chaos of emotions. My eyes become moist and my throat aches in hope of keeping those tears hidden. But my soul knows.
My beloved land, so bruised and bleeding, screaming out to me of why I can’t feel its pain. After all that it has given me. A ring of magnificent memories, so strong that they overshadowed all others. Why can’t I feel the shame when its sovereignty is being attacked by every possible corner?

My motherland. My Pakistan. You are a part of me. May God provide me with the chance to serve you, to heal you, to embrace your pain and to share with you of what God has given to me. Because without you, I can only be a heart broken refugee, in this world.