The thief!

They were beating him,
Slapping, kicking, slanging,
He was thief, stole something.
There was a crowd around him,
Many words blowing in the wind.
Every one was very angry.
I felt that very funny and laughed,
It is the nature of us,
Figure out the faults of others,
Then insult him as much as we can.
But never try to go to deep,
Never understand the reasons.
In fact, nothing happens without reason.
But who cares those,
None of us, not a single one.
It has been a rule, a nature of us.

That thief is a man like us,
He also knows the good, the bad,
But in spite of that he theft, Why?
May there were starving faces,
May be some diseased persons,
Who were waiting for him to do,
To do something for them, their sufferings.
May be his new born baby was crying,
For the first drop of colostrums,
But his wife was incapable of that.
Did we listen to his reality?
Did any one of us stand beside him?
Try to reduce his burdens?
We all are living selfish lives,
No time to hear the tales of others,
A lot of people around us,
Trying and crying to survive,
Did we speak for them?
We didn't, we don't, we will never do.
So what's about our learning,
Those facts, morals never reach to heart,
'Don't hate a guilty, hate the guilt, '
All those remain in the books,
And the reality is the scene,
A thief is being beaten by peoples,
To lessen their angers,
To cover their faults,
To color their shames....

Cream flower...

I know I can't touch you,

I know I can't smell you,

I can only just feel you,

You lie some where into mine,

There is no you in my present,

There was no you in my past too.

There will no you in my future.

So who you are with me always?

Why I cry all the night?

Why I try to have you?

At last I found the answer,

Yes you are the one,

The one from no where but dream,

Oh my sweet cream flower...

Freedom

Freedom, an arm,
To arm the unarmed.
A desire,never been truth,
Always remained in books.

Freedom, a word,
To word the wordless,
An inspiration, never cared,
Always remained in feeling.

Freedom, a dream,
To dream the dreamers.
A taste, never felt,
Always played hide and seek.

Freedom, a fight,
To fight the fighters.
A cry, never exist,
Always lied in sighs.

There is no freedom.
There is no free land,
There is no free man.
There is only a cry,
There is only a reflection,
Only a word out of eternity.
Freedom....

The spiritual

Every task of a man,
Every single move of him,
Every minute of his life,
There is a logic, a reason.
There is a thing, we run behind,
That is the peace of soul,
Thus we all are spiritual.

We all are trying to have it,
Lots of ways to get it,
Normal or abnormal,
that's not a matter to us,
We need it, we have to have it,
When there is breach of thoughts,
Interruption on liberal imaginations,
Confusion conceals confidence,
Disorientation leads to destruction,
Unusuality rises in our intentions,
We run out of mind, out of humanity,
But till then we are spiritual.

A saint or a murderer,
A politician or a philosopher,
Every one demonstrates own life,
Sacrifice all concentrations
To have the peace of soul.
Thus all of the human beings,
Man in simplicities or man of complexities,
Man in the mask or man of the face,
Everyone becomes blind and thirsty,
So we do everything for the peace of soul,
Thus we all are the spiritual. 

War and child....(01)

He was walking with his father,
There was a ice cream in his hand.
Every thing was as usual,
Crowd making noise around them,
Suddenly, there was a scream,
His father push him far,
He heard nothing but a loud 'boom'
It seemed to him as a thunder,
He saw fumes and smokes all around.
Every one was running here and there.
There was sounds of firing and cry,
He felt that he had been deaf.
he saw the ice cream melting in dust,
Beside that ice cream there was father,
Blood all over his wound muscles.
His body had torn and burnt,
The boy ran to his father,
Try to awake him from last sleep,
But that dead man made no response,
The boy started crying beside that,
None to help him in that hell,
None to drag that dead body,
None to say that his father was dead,
Did the boy know What is death?
Did he make up what he lost?
Is that little boy alive to tell us,
That brutal fairy tale of his life?
Is that boy know what is war now?

War and child....(02)

She was only one year old,
Her mother was singing a lullaby.
At that night, there was silence,
Which was broken by sudden bullets,
There were rifled men in positions,
Firing towards two dresses,
Mother took her into her arms,
She stood up and tried to run to safe,
But suddenly a bullet or several,
Pierce her back into her heart,
She fell down with the girls,
The girl was so afraid as crying,
But her young sense couldn't perceive,
The things were happening around her.
The girl sat down on the floor,
Crawled into the red bloods,
Saw her poor mother's pale face,
She slapped her crying a lot,
But that poor lady was so silent,
Did not sing out the lullaby,
Did not kiss the little girl to shut her mouth,
Did not take her to her arms affectionately.
The little girl became angry to her mother,
She rebuked her, cursed her,
But her mother did not get up.
Other hand the girl felt hungry,
She moved to mother's chest,
Removed the clothes there,
Started sipping the dry breast,
But they were as dead as mother.
The little lips were sipping and sipping,
And once the girls slept down,
Is that girl alive now?
Has she known the events?
Can she define war now?
Has she forgiven her rude mother?
Has she forgiven her own fate?
Has she forgiven the cruel god?
Has she forgiven the brutal war?
Has she...?

Letter from the battlefield-01

Dear little angel,
Do you know me?
I am your poor father,
While you are wondering
At the first sight in this world,
Then I am hiding myself
In the dusty noisy banker,
I know you are wondering why,
But dear it is only for you,
For you lovely mama,
For our better future,
I want you grow up in a new home,
Where no fear, no tear in your eyes,
Only smile will enlighten you.
For this reason I am fighting here,
With my last breath, my last dropp of blood,
I will try for a true earth, dear for you.
Wait for me sweet heart,
I am coming soon, to see your smile,
To hold you in my hard arms.
And then I swear, we will move away,
Far away from all of these,
There will be none to irritate us,
Only you, me and your mama,
And the beauties of life around us.
I promise you dear little angel,
Just a few days later we will be together,
And never leave one another forever.
I love you my little angel. 

Letter from the battlefield-02

Dear love, how are you?
How is our little angel?
How does she look like?
Does she get the deep blue eyes,
Or black cloudy eyes like me?
Does she smile like you?
I can't wait to see her,
But I am helpless,
I have to wait for a months more,
Here situation is so nasty,
We have to hide out in the bankers,
All around us, there is a hell,
Clotted blood, rotten fleshes,
Breath smells burnt gun powders,
Noisy machine guns are roaring,
Bombers are bombing here and there,
Wounds are screaming out,
No silence in here, No rests,
We are fighting nonstop every moment,
Every moment we are fighting to survive,
It has become a brutal game,
No emotions, no humanity,
We are a soldier, we have to shoot,
We have kill our enemies,
Either die or on fight to live,
We have no other choice.
I don't know what is going to happen?
I don't know whether I will see you or not?
Whether I will see my little angel?
Baby, If anything happens to me,
Look after my little angel,
Say her, I love her more than anything,
In this battlefield, I am trying to survive,
I am trying to escape the accidents,
Only with one hope inside me,
I am still alive only for one reason,
I want to see my little angel,
I miss her with my every beat of heart,
Every tick tick second of clock,
I miss my sweet little angel,
Honey, I believe I shall see you,
I hate this place, this battlefield.
I am suffocating in this bunkers.
Tell my daughter to forgive her papa,
Love you honey. 

Life in third world countries

Every night before going to bed,
I pray to him, he, the almighty,
“Oh god! Do not send any more life,
Any newborn to these ugly lands”
I know you wonder of such a prayer!
But believe me, it is the fact, the reality.
Life in these third world countries
have been a curse, a burden!
You cannot feel, but I can, because,
every single morning I see them.
Poverty, corruptions, immorality
have grasped every sphere of society.
Starvation, diseases, storms, prejudices
accompanied with death in here.
Every single man in a third world country,
Does not know what is waiting for him next.
They do not know what this life is for.
They think of and of about the secret.
I know these are unbelievable!
However, there is nothing to do,
No one to help them,
These have been going on and on since past,
and these will run on in the same track.
We will sigh and see!
We will shout and cry!
But believe me, now-a-days,
In this third world countries,
life is just a life,
life is just to live,
life is just lifeless,
a bit of death… 

Life: A puppet show

I see the life,
What a beauty,
how much wonder,
Hidden inside it!
Just take a breath,
You will feel it,
Just feel a beat,
You will wonder.
Then why complexities?
Why struggles to survive?
All we need to ensure a breath,
Ensure every beats of heart,
But see, we are running,
Everyday, every second,
We are running for noting,
Money is really nothing,
Though it has been everything,
It turns us blind and crazy,
Turns us something rather than man.
We are now out of mind,
We are out of our soul.
We are not alive,
Don't you feel it?
We are really dead,
Just have become Puppets,
Yap, life is now a puppet show,
Where we are just playing,
Acting our best, taking chances,
And heading towards the extinction. 

Naked eye's cry.....

I see the future,
May be all of us,
But why don't they?
Me, you, we are nothing,
No philosophy among us,
No diplomatic game plan,
No bureaucratic complexity,
We have naked eyes,
Though we see, we feel,
The upcoming storm ahead,
The last days of this civilization,
The consequence of this society,
Why don't they?
Are their microscopic eyes blind?
Why don't they confess themselves,
And swear to start a new era,
A new civilization for all living being?
Why? Is it our mistake?
Is it our sin to make them leader?
To hand over our fate to them,
To leave our future under their leading?
Give me a reason that makes sense,
An excuse that heal my hidden wound.... 

I love the way you hate me...

I love the way you hate me,
I love the words you curse me,
I love the moments you forget me,
I love the way you feel me.

I love the way you've gone away,
I love the way you've been past,
I love the way you've torn me apart,
I love the way you love me,
Behind all your hates........
I love that...... 

Come again when it is night....

Come again when it is night,
When I am sleeping,
When the whole city is sleeping,
Come again, kiss me, wake me up,
Show me the dreams you dreamed,
Show the words hidden inside you,
The words no one knew before,
The words I never heard from any one,
Just whisper in my sleepy ears,
Just kiss my dreaming eyelids,
I will love you, love you as you wished,
As you desired my love before last breath,
No matters, whatever they say,
You are dead or else and else,
I know you are alive,
Alive in my shadows, in my feelings,
Just come again when it is night..... 

Blood and soul

Blood betrays,
Blood bleeds,
Soul is pure,
Breath holly greens,
Breed trust in heart,
Whom should one choose,
Blood or soul? 

Between life and death....

If you are a pious,
You have only uncertainty,
You have only prayers.
If you are an atheistic,
You have only joys,
Enjoy every moment,
If you are a man of self respect,
If you are a wise and sincere,
You have only intentions,
Intentions to do exceptions,
Intention to set examples,
Temptation to be immortal,
With a glory of works and words,
In the beat of living hearts.
Find your answer,
Who are you?
What lies between life and death to you.... 

A suicide....

Her body was burnt,
Bruises, lacerations,
Here and there,
She was dead,
The fresh fleshes,
The burnt bones,
The clotted bloods,
The clothe prints,
These prove her pain,
What a painful dead it was?
How could she do this to herself?
Why did she do this to herself?
Only for those punk teaser?
Or for this prejudiced old society?
Or her dishonoring position to us?
May be none knows, may be knows,
But she is now only a dead body,
No other justice, no other hopes,
Nothing can awake her from this sleep.
All her hates, all her curses, all cries,
Are now burnt with kerosene,
She herself burnt them,
With her rapped, disgraced body,
Another red rose has died away,
Plucked out from the garden of life,
For our lusty, nasty, manly game,
I hate you man, I hate myself,
As I am also one of yours..... 

A lottery....A man....Endless ending.

He could never imagine of this,
Four million taka all on a sudden,
He bought the ticket unintentionally,
He never believed on luck,
But this time he has been astonished.
How could he express his joy!

Not more than few hours ago,
He was thinking of boring life,
Wasted soles were smiling at him,
The struggle for a job,
He was tired and restless,
But at suddenly he has been millionaire,
What a game of life!

An hour ago he has lost everything,
The ticket is lost in the bus,
While he was coming home,
Someone picked his pocket,
He is now a dumb scarecrow,
A fake fear for the sorrows,
A false dream of joy and happiness,
What an irony of fate!

His wife noted the serial number,
It is the only proof for him,
But no proof for others of the society.
He looked at the serial number,
Both on the newspaper and the note,
Warm sighs are filling tears in eyes,
Beats are pinching in his hearts,
The old dusty shoes are now happy,
They are going to be with him for more,
This small dark house is now smiling,
He is staying in here for days more,
Sorrows are playing a strange game,
An endless ending of his black life.... 

A Doctor and.....(All medical persons please read it)

I can see his past, at least once,
His first day at medical college,
His teacher asked him as usual, ,
'Why do you want to be a doctor? '
He answered without any delay,
'I want to serve the people, so I do'
I can see as I also stood there.
Every medical student, everyone,
Is asked the same question,
We all answer like him, It's simple.
But now like everyone, like him,
I know the answer we make is wrong.

He is now an old renowned doctor,
I've come to him for some donation,
Donation for those poor people,
Who can't afford a warm cloth,
Who are dying foe a piece of that.
When I've asked him for that,
He answered me as simply as that day,
'I am not here for this bloody job...,
You know I don't allow those in my chamber,
I need money, no time to think of them,
It is the headache of the politician,
The leaders of this country....not mine.
You are a medical student, think of study,
Forget about those, You are not for them,
You should think of you dresses,
Which tie suits with your coat or else,
Please let them be what is in their fate, '

I am surprised and astonished,
I think and think his words,
I ask myself why i am a medical student,
Why it has been our aim in life,
And at last I have taken a decision,
I would like to request every medical student,
Don't be a doctor, Just be a man,
If you would be a man, you would be a doctor too,
But If you only be a doctor, you mightn't be a man.
Please, don't answer the question only to answer,
Answer it as a constant goal of life..... 

Who am I?

Inhaling smoky lead,
Carbonated old lung,
Alcohol burnt liver,
Rotten kidneys cry,
Faded blood in vessels,
My heart is poisoned,
I am dying like a cigar,
Ashes in my breaths,
This me is not me,
This is someone else,
I was evergreen,
But this one is gray,
Who am I?
A civilized new generation,
Or a pile of decomposed flesh,
Contaminating myself,
Contaminating my world,
Contaminating my future,
Who am I? 

My imaginative life

A moon lit night,
A little boat is waving,
A torn sail is dancing,
A dim hurricane is lighting,
Only a boatman on the boat,
Singing an old vaatially song,
Dreaming of his wife
Waiting for him in a hut,
This is about my imaginative life,
I don't know how It feels,
But my heart cries for it,
A simple life in naked eyes,
A complex struggle of life,
A complete satisfaction of soul,
With all joys and sorrows of life,
One can figure out a new taste,
A new man in a new world,
The world within this world,
Different from rest of it.