Last Inks Xxxvii Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

Fear is to be doubted, fear of hell,
Suspend the disbelief, your way is to heaven.
Guilt is not to be doubted,
From it spring subconscious spirals of living nightmares.
Had the father been not killed, religion would
Have lost invention. Wrapped in dark folds
There is no other joy than making love in fears
Of demons, and visiting fairies, from the gaps in walls
Jelly like, climbing and riding thick walls.
The sun of the afternoon has aphrodisiac rays,
The grasses' blades are aroma from the earth's
Creative sprouts, nasal, suffocating and rich.
Abundance, you may squeeze damp mud
In your fist, a Donatella Versace texture rub on face,
An eye-wear, making dusk out of dawn.
Imaginations are sharper in the edge
Of the mind's twilight, sun rise-fall.
I had once thought that, that will be the saddest moment,
We depart, exactly on the time of day-night
When we are the most inspired, creative and filled with love.

Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
September 15,2014.