The Howling Wolves.

These poems have no explanations. These will keep on coming until something happens.

The Howling Wolves.

The howl of a wolf from far I hear,
The cunning darkness those howls break,
From them in fear I always run,
A fear that grown thin every day.

Upon our own kind we step,
And as if unknown away we walk,
Emotions are by products of senses,
And to express them Oh’ we forgot.

Another kind of emotions we have,
Far beyond sense can comprehend,
Oh’ my love for you fades,
In those emotions none can ever understand.

When mind in earthly atmosphere suffocates,
The flames of fire of unknown origin consumes,
What left of a that still beats,
Beats in rhyme with your heart.

Curse those who made these cages,unseen,
Curse those who fabricated binding rules,
Curse those who drawn unseen lines,
Curse those who can never stop this bleeding.

The howl of many wolves from near I hear,
They are growing in numbers every day,
They will find me and eat me one day,
Oh’ they will kill and eat in thankfulness,
Than those who in fake love consumes a lifetime.


There is a meaning in everything I say and do beyond what five senses can comprehend. There is hardly anyone who truly understands it all. Those who did all died of old age, then a handful of people who understands they shut senses to escape the true meanings. The easy way, never visit this site.

Lost In One Ways

I felt lost when I thought about many things.This poem is a by-product of those thoughts. I really don’t know howmany will truly understand this. I know one will.

Have a super sunday and a great week ahead.

Lost In One Ways.

Upon the roads like worms moved,
The never ending traffic through the city.

Songs of the feelings of spring,

The blazing heat of summer sun,

The cold of the monstrous winters,

The death of the breezy autumn all blown,

Overhead many many times passed,

Still the ways I passed Oh’ all of them,

And the many, many turns I took,

One ways wherever I went,

Every effort to face the traffic in futile remained.

None in front came but from way behind faded,
And some turns took me to traffic that faced me,
Some of those who faced me took other turns,
Some where eighteen wheelers from which I ran,
Most just stayed stunned with dark wind-shields.

Like a mad dog through those one ways I walked,
Wondering why am I lost in the city well known,
Oh’ looks like the city changed a lot and I did not,
All goes through one ways ahead always I am,
Why my mind can’t figure out roads in younger years passed,
Through most roads in repetition again and again gone,
With the feeling of the spring’s music inside cherished,
The reality of that feeling dancing far, far away,
In the rhythm of that music understood yet forgetting,
And never will I reach a two way road to that reality,
As forever in these winding roads lost I am.

Metallica-Nothing Else Matters.

Someone said in a comment here “mmm metallica” I left a comment for that person which I thought is good for all of you too here it is  “Yes I am a big Metallica fan. FYI, I am originally from India. Whentheir Black Album came out first we only heard the news in BBC worldservice radio. We didn’t had cable networks at that time in the smalltown in India. Me and one of my friend travelled nearly 100 miles tothe nearby city to get the album. But the music store only got a LP andthey don’t have Record Players in the stores. We bought the record andcame all the way back home. I don’t have a record player at home onlycassette players. We went to my friends home who have a record player.The moment we played Enter Sandman. My friends dad kicked us out. Andin a conservative small town going to a girls house itself is a wildidea, then playing music many believe as evil war cry not at all a goodidea. Now I took the record and went to another friends place. He andhis family was out of town, so I literally broke into the house. It wasfarm house so no soul nearby to hear the war cry, only their pet dogwas around who is quite friendly with me. He howled couple of timesduring the play of the entire album.I heard it like 15 times straight.The very sound of the album is something I have never heard till thatdate. If not seen get this “Classic Albums – Metallica: Metallica [DVD](2001) Metallica; Classic Albums” This is a good documentary of themaking of the Black Album.”

Tears Of Love.


****This is not big enough for a new post. Just an update that I posted the first installment of my writing called “Never Ending Day Dream” in Sajuashan site. Those of you interested can read it there. Let me know what do you think about my prose and your comments and suggestion in correcting it is great appreciated.
Thanks all have a great week****

End Update

First, after more that threeyears I finally changed the layout of this site. Took a theme from thetheme collection. Tell me how is it.

I don’t think I should say anything about this poem. I will just tellthe situation that led to writing this poem. Couple of days back I was trying to respond toa question I found in  Xinergy’s page that asked, “Whatdoes it take for someone to earn your trust?” so I was trying to writeabout trust and a story came to my mind. It was totally fictitious. Idid not wrote it there, I kept it in scribefire. Just when I was about to goto bed today I thought I should work on that idea. What came out of it wasthe following poem. I made some adjustments afterwards to give it a bit moreclarity.
Have a great weekend.

Tears Of Love.

The season filled the days with flowers,
Then the season filled the night with stars,
They all fought and the battle they lost,
As the glow of your love upon my heart you left.

Gone, gone are the days,
The days that defined the future ways,
Love filled will be the life,
When purity of love you leave upon every living,
And blessed the world will be in your smiles.

Such were the words he wrote to get to her,
Those campus days of uncertainty,
Romance was a race to win for her,
And they lived together with doubts deep in mind,
The meaning of love only through material life known,
Nothing about each other they both known.

Where life will take he knew not,
And many feelings inside him he buried,
Hand in hand they walked in front of the world,
Yet heart at each other never really smiled.

The busy work life grabbed them next,
And further and further they both went,
Under one roof they have slept,
Yet found no reason to grow in each other,
And discontent about her in him grown.

Business trip took him away into busy city life,
And as the day died around him, at dinner he met,
The charms of a beauty filled with venomous lust,
Her talks and ways amused him in intoxication,
And with her back to her place he went.

Through her drunken mockery she told,
To forget the past and never think about the future,
And live the moment in the joy of her,
Through his veins long lost verses came to him,
Verses in the days that defined future ways.

Left her without another word or touch,
As every doubt about everything he felt,
And reached back home to a girl he thought,
Who don’t know how to love him beyond herself.

About the dinner and the aftermath to her he told,
Without a word she stood hearing all that he told,
What went through her mind he knew not,
But in a sudden move the six iron from his golf bag she took,
Her swing was good as right on his butts she hit,
That left him on the floor in severe pain.

Biting lips and with closed eyes upon his knees he sat,
Seeing stars in the dark of his  eyelids closed ,
Then upon his forehead the warmth of her lips he felt,
The kiss that surprised him in every way.

Tried to open his eyes but he could not,
As no more pain he felt but a feeling in his chest,
The first ever feeling he felt when upon her eyes he first looked,
He sat there not knowing anything about what he felt,
Then upon his nose fell a drop of tear,
Just a drop of tear that told him how much she loved.

A Beautiful Recognition.

No new poems.

My lucky stars all seems to have gone super nova, I said that in a poema while back, now I think I should change that a bit, they all havebecome black holes and suck in whatever that comes around me, never tobe seen again. I am not kidding. Looks like the onlookers of this sitehave all gone into that black hole too, which is a good news as I hatedthem. I felt like those people are pirates who wander around the weblike a curse who all got no sense of appreciation. They are mostly frommy birth place. Nasty folks they are.
  Couple of weeks back I was chatting with a young girl from Russia,she lives somewhere in Norway after her mother married someone there.Luckily she knows english very well so that I was able to chat with herin yahoo. She is planning to move to Singapore as she wanted to joinher boyfriend there, she was asking me about my views on many things asshe converting to Buddhism. I said I am not a Buddhist, I am just apoet. She asked for my poems and I gave her this site. She left and daybefore yesterday she came back online and told she read my poems mostof the recent poems. She was no lying she was going through this sitefrom top to bottom. There were some many posts only one reader in thissite can read…  so except those Ilya read most of posts in this site.She liked this site a lot and told me something interesting…
“I felt like watching Svetlana Zakharova after reading most of your poems in your site”

I asked her, who is this Svetlana Zakharova?, then she told me,Svetlana is a famous dancer. I told her I really don’t know a lot aboutdancing and haven’t done much dancing in my entire life as I used toweigh around 260lbs. I was making fun of calling my poems look likesome exotic dancer. She said “no no, Svetlana is not an exotic dancer”and gave me some links in  youtube. Couple of them were performance bySvetlana another was a link to a performance of another dancer.
 Here are the videos of Svetlana Zakharova she gave me.

Swan Lake Odette Variation (Svetlana Zakharova)

Svetlana Zakharova – Giselle Act 1

The following is a comment I left for one of the videos I saw.

I write poetry, recently when I was chatting online I met thiswonderful girl from Russia who knows english very well, she told mereading your writings makes me feel like watching Svetlana Zakharova. Iasked her who is that? She gave me the link of this video and the samemusical piece perfromed by another dancer. Both are superb performance.In every way the honor I have ever got was the words of that girl asone can feel what true poetry means in this breathtaking performance bythis dancer.

The City.

I started writing the following poem with a specific title in mind “TheSorrow Of LonelyPoet” it was not about anyone but about a place. Then Ithrew away all that came to my mind and wrote something entirelydifferent.  As a feeling came to my mind I haven’t reached that point ofmy life to really write such a poem about that place. Every givenmoment I am becoming more and more stubborn to be there. I really don’tknow why… maybe because of that it became a life mission to bethere.. until I write that poem, you all enjoy…note it, that will bethe last poem  of mine you all will ever read.

Where the hell are my lucky stars?

The City.

From far away dusts of city seen,
And in the mind those streets imagined,
Those city stores bustling with people wandering,
Some busy in life filled with dynamics,
Some restless in life predefined.

Dreams about life around the city seen,
Oh they chaos about that life never imagined,
Pictures and videos give more than the eyes,
Calm, quite those pictures merge in the soul.
What gained and what lost soul ever known.

How many time through those road walked,
How many familiar faces turned away,
How many wonderful moments missed,
Still life went on in paths familiar,
But lost in cause and spirit.

How many more wonders those alleys hold?
Still looking for heartbeat in a lifeless entity,
The snail paced traffic, the frustrated faces,
The smell of dust and smoke all in union,
Makes the feeling of life in an entity never born.

Imagined what it will be in the city without people,
Oh’ the silence that may come shivered,
The depths of mind which left a freeze all over,
The lifeless nature of the city first felt,
Then life of the city felt upon the face the uncaring minds.

Once more went far, far away with the understanding,
The city means nothing without the wilderness of mankind,
Chaotic and polluted the city maybe,
Still the wonderful feeling I always feel, when standing,
In the middle of all the chaos and smell of killer smoke,
As part of the life giving force of the city I am,
As lifeless without people the city will be.

Ladies Night

When I posted a poem here someone told me “You need a girlfriend” Itold her, I have a cute girlfriend. That lady unsubscribed and left.What the hell was she thinking about me or my poems? I don’t know. Justbecause I write opposite of what I feel don’t make me less of a poet.Now being a poet, I have seen many older people writing poetry onXanga. For the experience they have with life, their poetry sucks. Inthe meanwhile some of the young poets I recently read shown amazingability to express. Many shown much more capacity in expressing thanmany classical poets. But it is a free world and everyone got the rightto express. Probably many of the older poets will learn from theyounger ones many lessons.

  There are people who really don’t know what to write that is theproblem for almost all the poets one or the other time of their life.See it is quite simple, as a poet you can only write what is felt inyour heart. Poetry comes from heart not from your brain as a mechanicalaction. So the subjects one should write is right around the poet.Those simple events that one goes through everyday have a point ofpoetry in it. Then the material you read, the shows you see on T.V, themusic you listen all can be blended together to make wonderful poetry.But the process through which one makes those events to poetry is amatter for the individual. It cannot be imitated, if imitated it willonly end up irritating readers. That is well evident in the poetry ofmany people here, especially those who are well experienced with life.In all honesty they are pathetic.

Ladies Night.

The gentle breeze of the evening fought,
With the screams of the downtown life,
Wednesday fell tired to the mongering life,
That went by like a monster machine none designed.

When night gnawed the evening away,
Laughs filled the sideways of streets,
Colorful dresses, color filled faces,
Oh’ they flocked like the flamingos in oasis.

Then there were men out there for the exploits,
Tall men, short men, muscular men, and big bellied men,
Some men walked hand in hand looking at other men,
Many men stayed as far away from those men.

The battle lines were formed,
Inside the mostly dark clubs and bars,
In the flashing lights one can find,
The moving shapes of dancing dames.

Empty bottles crashed into trash,
Minds left every normalcy anyone known,
Beauties became more beautiful,
Rest of the womanhood earned, compliments undeserved.

Time at its pace moved,
But for many time ran away fast,
When blinking lights died and bright light birthed,
Many ladies yearned to be beauties of any drunken man.

All left with one or the other,
Some women left with women who looked like men,
Many men left flexing muscles or caressing bellies,
And time stood perplexed not knowing the passing era.

From the corner of the bar he slowly walked,
Out into the spring night where the wind gained strength,
A smile stretched cheek to cheek, back at him all smiled
Some women from the speeding cars in disappointment waved.

When alone in the alley, away from crowds,
His own mind filled with a wonderful face,
Danced in the happiness of a conquerer,
And step by step through dark he moved.

Still a kiss upon his lips he missed,
And the wind brought the drizzles from heavens,
When drizzles fell he too felt a kiss,
None he saw deserved to give to a wonderful soul.

Faceless Phantoms.

When the weather slowly gained warmth I know the poet in me is tryingto hibernate. Well not long enough…. here is a totally differentthought, long time back sometime in 2001 December, I was walkingthrough San Francisco with my colleague Mike Roberts. Mike wanted tobuy some soft toy for his little daughter and got into a store and Iwas standing outside talking to someone on the phone. I finished thecall and turned to get into the store. A woman dressed in all colorfuldress stopped me and said, “You know more of the next world than thisworld isn’t it?”

I looked at her and said, “yes I do, I am Riaz Ahammed, may I know yourname?” I finished by asking a question. She looked at me and said,”When all you have are questions about this world, what sense it makesknowing about the world after?”

I told her “Nights are always more blessed than days, this world is a day that blinds as from the eternal one”

Suddenly I realized what this is all about. So I asked, “Are you clairvoyant?” She said, “Yes”.

“If it is money you need, I don’t have much cash” I said to her, shesmiled and told me, “Dear man, I know you care shit about money and ifyou have you will give it to anyone in need, but I am not talking to youfor money” she held my hands, looked at my palms and then my eyes andcontinued, ” There is a dark force behind you, no, it is covering you,no easy for a woman like me to deal with, it is powerful, verypowerful, it is from a woman, far far away, far beyond mountains andwaters”
She let my hand down, turned and walked away. By this time Mike cameback and told, “you need a hooker, get a better one, that one is old” Ilaughed while taking a cigarette  I gave one to Mike too and we bothsmoked while walking to the bus stop where Mike should take the bus toMarine county where he lived. After he left, I walked back to theplace where I met the lady but my search was futile. I walked throughSan Francisco downtown for more than a year, everyday evening, be itcold, rainy, foggy, windy or sunny, never found that woman again. The day Ileft San Francisco was bizzare, but after I boarded the plane I said inmy mind, “Oh’ man what are you going into” then I smiled and said”prepare to face the dark force, maybe you will find a lucky charm that can help you.”
There was no internet when I woke up earlier today so I just sat andlistened to music. I remembered what I wrote above at that time I said, yes, there is a dark force around me, I cannot defeat it, I cannotpersuade it, I cannot love it. Only someone else can break that darkforce around me. Who? How? I don’t know, maybe it may never happen.Then I came here after I got my internet connection back. Saw a post,then I watched a lot of T.V, browsed many websites, good, bad and naaaI am not a dirty man to go to soft porn sites.hehehe…. I used to, nowI am too old for that too. hehehe. That post kinda haunted me the restof the day then I wrote what I wrote above, then I wrote what is below.

Have a great day everyone.

Faceless Phantoms.

The phantoms of a long lost memories erased,
By the pathos of reality that still lingers,
And shows mocking faces at weeping souls.

How much loved can’t be described,
Words strung together like in a rosary,
But none of the verses in spirit filled,
O forgot I that rosaries don’t meditate,
The one who turns does, but forgot,
To meditate in the love meant to the one.

How many verses said, I don’t remember,
How many ways pursued, don’t matter now,
All ended only at one point in the universe,
You heart in constant beating erased,
Rest of the ways and any other language,
Other than the language of love,
Language, only by your soul understood.

The phantoms day by day lose their faces,
And my own face away I turn,
In directions not known,
But the magic in my heart you left,
Rises like the new day’s Sun,
Gaining glory in depths of life,
Meaningfully defined only by your presence.

O Sanam

No poem from me and there won’t be much coming your way for sometime unless some idea should come and hit on my head like a tornado. Well, I am working on the last part of Tess but I decided to rewrite it, straightening some of my own thoughts about it. There is only person who will truly understand how twisted my mind can be now.
 Well I am not going to leave you all empty handed… watch the following video, watch it carefully, many people understood this video all wrong because the way the video was edited and put together. What is the theme of the video, what do you understand from it. Tell me when is the only time the girls face is fully shown. This is Lucky Ali’s Music Video of the famous song O Sanam. It is one of my favorite song.

The Failed Distractions.

This was supposed to be a post in prose, well it ended up as a poem.Well I don’t have a lot to say, read the poem and see if you can figureout what is going on.

The Failed Distractions

Listening to the brittle drops,
Shattering up on the blades of grass,
The T.V speaks its own language,
Imaginations in the depth of those events lost,
Though fictitious, mind filled in those fascinations.

Life comes not in the cheapest ways,
Always takes its toll in account of time,
And none could do anything about other than,
Say “damn it” and go back to listening.

Oh’ how wonderful it is to see and hear,
The nesting birds even in the spring who lost,
The warmth somewhere in the embraces of winter,
The old man who is still kissing the beauty,
Of the young and colorful spring.

Those little chirping birds show,
How to find ways through the given time,
Even when the paths are not fitting,
For barefooted ballet dancing.

Nothing ever brings to mind boredom,
As whatever happens is the moments truth,
Which is what is given for the moment,
Through the times and paths of life learned,
To take what’s given and never to wish,
For what’s not given or earned.

Easy it is not to be patient,
But with practice of nearly four decades,
Learned to cope with sadness that engulf mind.
Sadness, just another emotion like happiness,
Comes and goes at will in a passion filled mind.

In these days from all that have gone by,
Learned not to say “I don’t know”
If said, will be the worst crime,
Against the consciousness of oneself.

The days carry on through cycles,
That moves fast through time these days,
Still some wishes and dreams fight inside, undying,
The metaphors and smilies lay slaughtered,
As reality that dies not and heals not,
In time or with any knowledge and experience earned,
The truth remains as is, O dear, it remains,
That none of the distractions tried worked,
As I love you more than you and I can imagine.

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