Poem: The Labourer

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With this curved spine,
In journey with this world
The echoes of my soul
the existence and its burden
Hear I all day the whispers
the crunching bones
against each other,
As the very fabric
begins to crumble
I am the labourer,
The powder I have become
the dust and its movement
In celebration my pain,
in celebration my work
far away,
removed from the world,
The blisters upon my feet,
the fingers and its skin,
I was born BEAUTIFUL
As look upon my self
only the dust
I see, only the scars and its pain
the blackened existence

I am the song of your revolutions
I am the silent whisper
in your thoughts,
I carry this weight
upon my shoulders, upon my head
in revolt,
All my body and all its tissues
I am the muse to your movements
I am the beauty you paint,
I am the lectures you deliver
I am that famous painting
that hangs in your galleries
Untouched, unheard, in silence
I am the speeches you deliver
I am the river you speak of
I am the ocean you dive into
All there but me,
I am the exodus you never heard
I am the labourer
somewhere in your dead conscience

I am the labourer
in this world of greed and commerce
the only hope, the only dream
this will end here, my sacrifice
my children will not meet this fate,
upon these roads, I walk
Upon these roads,
i surrender my dignity
in this dust,
i surrender my pride,
Just me, this pain will not travel further
upon my children and their generations
The old promise my father made
Our days is 365 days long and nights
only fleeting moments in capture

I am your labourer,
Each year
you celebrate in your words
with vigor and passion
In your poems,
the emotions and its river
But cold this existence
the death you inflicted
Look me in the eye,
the ghostly eyes
All sponged out,
my youth and its innocence
My days of school
sacrificed in its heat
In protest
my whole existence against me,
with cuts and its bruises, upon my back
hidden away all its pain in its dust
the squalor of my existence and nights
you see me in your farms,
you see in your homes,
you see me upon your roads,
All around you see me
all day and yet in celebration just one.

I am your labouer in all ages
In your streets, an old man and woman
the young in your existence
As you drive past,
Just shadows we are,
Shadows that grow larger and diminish
at their own will
I am in all ages at your disposal
I am the labourer of this world,
But only in this world,
I will let you know
Only in this world you have me
The hereafter is all mine
I know the promise made to me
It’s there in inscription,
It’s there in its voices
I hear the angels with me
By my Creator, By my Creator
The hereafter is all mine.
It’s all mine
The heavens of this Universe and beyond
It’s all mine.


Rise in Revolution


the pain that lingers,
from the moment
of its creation
the havoc unleashed
by the monsters
the status quo

as they plunder,
the resoources
as they murder,
the very own
through hunger
as they neglect
You, the people

no longer
the priority,
Never they cared,
for what
You meant to them
the faces
that will never return
To the mountains
to hear the echoes
of laughter and its peace

Corrupt they are,
to the bones,
Where laments
morality and ethics
in aveneues
of Pakistan

Where languishes
in its residence
the pain
carried to its squalor
the screams
of the unseen

remove them
from their office,
remove them
from your consicience
remove them
from your vote
remove them
from the power
remove them
get removed

Remove them
before they kill
your children
Your destiny
Your future

Dont sing the songs
of revolution,
Remove them
Rise in Revolution


We Are Pakistan

mai pakistani houn


We are Pakistan
In rain,
or sunshine,
In snow
or drifting sands,
We are Pakistan

In the hours
of grief and its pain,
in the moment
of elation or dreams
We are Pakistan

We have seen
The time worst
through floods
and earthquakes
in famine and hunger
We have paid
the price too much
we are Pakistan

We are not
Punjabi or Pathan
or from Sindh
or Balochistan
we will
remain one
We are Pakistan

The unity
will define
us and our lands,
The dreams
will bring
the peace and its songs
in our hears and minds
We are Pakistan!!



Ode to Karachi- Reclaim Your Right!


******** Ode to Karachi********

Karachi will come out of its silence, gripped in fear where politics becomes the means to control it’s streets and businesses. #Karachi

KARACHI whose streets are ruled and where hearts plays it’s beats gripped in fear and violence will one day scream for its freedom.

In Karachi, when this happens neither the phone calls, or the old associations, or the slogans, or the murderous routines will hold that pain and it’s emotion . It will sweep all those whom have contributed towards its decadence and it’s destabilisation.



#Karachi it’s such a sad and dismal state of affairs where the concept of politics is NOT to serve its inhabitants BUT to hold them hostage.

It’s not the #karachi we remember from our youth and childhood days and not that karachi that carries it’s references in the old literature.

I miss that #Karachi of peace and lights where it’s corners did not produce mutilated bodies and violence but harmony and music.

And it’s that #karachi, that carried the music from its shores to the landscape of snow in the North and to its deserts. It is that I miss

I miss it’s cosmopolitan air; I miss it’s bazaars and shores; I miss it’s colour and love upon that canvas of peace. I miss myself. #Karachi

In Karachi, where I grew up- you tainted it and disgraced it with your politics of hatred and violence, I will reclaim it back one day.

#Karachi that carried my being from its bazaars and noise where ever I went ; the colours of those days upon my skin YOU cannot eradicate.

I miss all thousands who were murdered; the beautiful minds, the young souls, teachers, doctors, and all. It’s you all I miss. #Karachi

These careless whispers
Aimless walks
In your corners
I miss
And you
my murderer
I have not forgotten ……

#karachi where my blood has been spilled; where my livelihood was stolen; where my children have grown in fear; I will reclaim it back.

Karachi where it’s shores had connected the oldest civilisation to the world and you distanced it in your murder and in your violence.

And when I ran under the rainof bullets; and the body of a limbless child blown away it; you will never realise that lament. #Karachi

1947-The Beautiful Sacrifice

jimmy the engineer-partition


“The most beautiful sacrifice never dies as it gets passed on as an ” Amanat” from 
one generation to another. And Pakistan is that ideal for which they all left their 
homes, their lives, their lands, their stock, everything they had. Imagine, the pain 
and it’s elation for the cause; imagine the courage and it’s display , it is them from 
Amiristar, from Jalendhar, From Ludhiana, from all portions of India who left their 
homes for the most sacred dream. It is them on the trains, in the fields, in the 
wells who jumped to save their honour and dignity, it is them in the camps, it is 
them ” Our Heroes”, we should never forget. The journey and it’s trail which is 
littered with sacrifice and blood. It is them we should always remember and 
preserve and hold them in the highest esteem our elders and the sacrifice. It is 
them we carry as portions of our existence in our DNAs. Preserve them……”

Asim Khan