Men, the mighty holders

Men, the god gifted dick holders doesn’t really pursue me to acknowledge more about their organs. Dick is one thing that makes a man different from a woman and certainly hath power for being awarded with it. I don’t know what made me discuss about men today on this platform, just because I masturbated some while ago I now hold this device on buttons on it and light rays coming across the liquid crystal display. Yes, something that the universe call LAPTOP. I don’t even own one yet so I have the right to make such a description to catch the presence of this magnificent thing so that my writing can be saved on this platform with its very help.
So where I wanted to take a start with, without a clue I made a heavy research on men from the previous month and that wasn’t going to happen unless it wasn’t hitting my pussy with the very hardhold effort. Where does all the power comes from? All the multi energy that is put forwarded while hitting someone’s pussy with nothing but a dick. Now its very strange to question that how did sex came into being? Who provided the guidelines? prohibitions? postures?
Dumb to not know what these silly woman are really always craving for and what the delivery guy really get rather than small dollar bills. A man can never fulfill the ultimate lush a woman is need of, despite that he seeks for the ultimacy everytime he encounter a meet a hostess that never refuses to get fucked up. Its just like buying wine knowing that you’ll be needing an opener but this time you care to disturb your neighbor who’s never seen empty glass with thongs on.
Men is that gem that can be stolen by any costumer in the supermarket, all you need to present is yourself to the slab so that he can cut some slacks out of you without getting himself hurt. What doesn’t kills him, makes him stronger and woman around surely never turn out to be like Sharon stone who gives you the perfect fuck along with a perfect death with a screwdriver the time she gives birth to an orgasm and without letting you breathe to light yourself, puts you to death. While a man, his ultimate gunshot is when he fuck you in anal in row because the person who’s shooting at a target never tends to feel pain till the time he’s targeting on the spot well. The minute he slips, is the minute he can get those balls pressed against a hardcore body which was wispy like an orange pulp the minute he brought it home. So if one doesn’t through the spear carefully, can result in hurting one soul.
In the universe, it feels lively to stand free without an hymen because what insults a girl is the discussion about losing his virginity. Woman has the right to keep it to herself just like a man. No man ever tells that he fucked or molested a child in order to enhance his manhood because they never covering it in shame, they don’t even feel tipping the word “Shame” from their tongue when it comes to sex either they have been a bachelor or a have a matrimonial life. Who even feel shameful?
Our societies have been educating our both genders about their virtues and sinful acts, it tells that no gender can open themselves infront of each other. According to studies, a womans hymen is that praising god that once vanished in earlier life can never be back again for some piece of worship that leads you to heaven. While no such obligation have been implemented on a man as he has no stone in way that if removed by the traveller will give him the prove that no other person has cross this way before him. This whole concept makes me sick and puke of what I have feeding to was this all gross. I am grateful that I puke on the right moment and carried out the rotten semen before it started producing eggs in there. If this is how studies will revolution our minds then perhaps its time to teach the kids to move towards the modern library to find authentic authors with original knowledge that might help them in how not being a virgin mary for the sake of not enlisting yourself in sinful act but crucifying your pleasure at that time.
The holy book that muslims follow do quote that a man is free to to entertain by four wives in his life. Does anybody have any idea why is it only valid for a man, why not for a woman too? Does only a man arise lush desire and thus get in a correlation with any woman he wants and is accepted by that woman. Why can’t a woman tie up with men with the same injunction? Why she always has to cross the boundary to collect the sins along with the water, why can’t the sins just leave the sea if she is a willing person to roam in clothes with shame. NO, because this isn’t bearable. The stupid irony has tighten its paws in the sand where a woman cannot get entertained by four husbands which they name an appropriate manner while a man can hang himself around the ladies he every time wish for. Ever thought why a man gets in a relationship with a woman and after spending time take her as a life partner? Does he do it because he need kids? If he is a billionaire, might be possible but what if he has a coming salary that is enough to get his kitchen in work and some gifts to make his woman active? Man needs a woman to satisfy their pleasures with new taste of cum that is every time produced when their lions are enlightened with power.
The same goes with a woman as well, no woman exhibit herself for having plenty of eggs that one day will grow into horny chicks in search of cocks but she seeks for a man to have the same that a man is getting from her. YES the pleasure ride, the ride that can equally serve the turn to each partner to make a new experience of the road of revolution. Its sad to confront the truth in first place than hiding oneself behind the injunctions. I don’t blame man for having woman around just like being a woman I don’t want anyone to question me about being around anyone who I want and who wants me. What disturbs is the injunction made in the book regarding the absolute obligations for the genderhood and therefore what creates a hurdle in mind must wash away. (Phone beeps) OH WAIT, I NEED TO TAKE THIS!

Apology, my guy just got out some time for me and i couldn’t just make a mistake of making someone leave that stopped by showing me some interesting thread of pictures as promised. I just expressed it way deeply, I don’t see a reason to lie this to this screen who spent almost hours digesting what I’ve been writing.
So where were we.. yes the obligations, fuck every injunction and start living your life because some people have surely wasted quarter of jug when feeding on the pulp from the holy books. Its time to make slight changes in diet to meet less constipation ahead.
The more irrelevant you intake, the more you suffer of not passing a stool.


A hundredth mystery

Within the years of disparity
I lost the battle in the utmost stance
Great pain in the hollowed heart
Rapidly changed our ways of sunset
Thou kept climbing the limit of height
When I spun twice closed eyes
But it was time to let go mutuality stance
Our ways were never defined
Except of the fields we used to talk about
Where sun rose from the west
And sets in the east
You’ve always been a light behind hills
Hills that speak of dry faded sunshine
You’ve always been a hook behind painting

Painting that speaks of strengthen support
You’ve always been a cologne behind cajole
Cajole that drag me to your paltry pub

I remembered all of it, all of it
Because somewhere in the way
You will wish for an absolution to come
Our ways which showed no direction
Yet made us stand on the point we left from
Live gave us a tragic truth
And set the field where sun rises
Truth that sun never sets in east
And rises from the west
We once met again in our journey
And gave both a chance to catch the absolution
Right away, without any pause.

( They did met once again yet they both were in decision to catch the absolution or not)

Uninvited pleasures

Walking in the deep midst
I heard a quiver of thunder
From the sound of crackling windows
Awake the sleeper, rise from dead

Stands by the window sneaking around
Passes a deep plum lady through a block
Winged eyes which hardly made any contact
With the stranger standing by the window

An illusion to the temporary real
I now began to feel the sensation of love
What I imagined was even deeper
than what I really got to endure

Thou beautiful body of nearly 30’s
Looks like she has been lost
Every pinch of her skin reminded me
of my melancholy whore.

A slight breeze ruffled her plum silk skirt
A smooth pair of neat legs transpired with reticence
What a tragedy in our society
What a pity for a venial performer

I began to shrug my cock
against the window pane
from that she glanced with lower lip bite
and vanished

It was a high horn by then
not finding her anywhere on the block
But in the next minute rang the doorbell
Bam! I had an open ticket to Lucifer’s cradle now.



There’s a mania  inside me
which wants to get out
to see the world, culture,
booze, women, men and
their parallel sex.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to be a whore for a night
and experience every possible
leisure in my life.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to walk on a road naked
being an unknown to the
road runners.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to get an ultimate drunk
with nylon stockings onn
and a pantyhose.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to watch the people fight
over some piece of newspaper
mostly filled with shit.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
on a silent night in my mehran
escaping from this house
all night on road.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to switch my living bed
with a hostel bed

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
and see what he’s been after
Another women or plan of escaping
from the things he did for pleasure.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to watch him for nights
entering and leaving the house
with the noted time and scent.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to wait until he’s back
to where he belongs
not to me, yes.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to kill the care for him
That’s the reason
I don’t let it out.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
to diminish the care for him
I told my heart, it’s dangerous outside
It faded away.

There’s a mania inside me
which wants to get out
within sometime in my life
I will care to let it out
on the right time.

Two thousand sixteen.

Few more ways to hold
Reckon the craved monster inside
Lies the eternal time of miseries
Giving a glance of coming day

A broken threshold needs to be repaired
A broken soul needs to be healed
A broken heel needs to be glued
A broken life needs to be changed

Few more ways to hold
Not even a way of looking back
Woods are dark and hollow
Light is merely present to make him pass by

A beautiful painting needs to be displayed
A scratched face needs to be covered
A loo needs to be clean when shitted
A pussy needs to be tight being a virgin

Few more ways to hold
Sweeten vagina on the tongue
Pain and gain on the body
Salty dick is what left to taste

A messy bun needs to be refreshed
A smelly panty needs to be changed
A pubic hair needs to be plucked
A blood sheet needs to be disposed off

Few more ways to hold
Decision is upright
Pleasure is next right
Life is a silent ride.

Salt and savor

Salt is a whitish solid usually in a granulated form as a food seasoning and preservative. It relishes an eternal touch to your sense of taste when lick over it. So with a little piece of experience I came to taste it over a friend’s body, yes body. I do believe the fact that our body contains a part of salt mine in there along with water and many more portions that I am not gonna talk about.
A human being doesn’t really resist the fact of staying not in touch with one another even when they have a partial understanding and alot in common. Its best that they don’t wait for the right time and do what is on their mind. You don’t feel the exact for the same person everytime so what I suggest is never let go the chance of seeing a clear, wavy blue sky till the sun rises atleast. Something is better than nothing.
Salt and savor is representing the ultimate touch of taste in your wet mouth that runs with saliva back in the river of your epiglottis. While talking to friend that night, I almost lost the words of respect and shame but not my senses. And I never felt guilty of what we talked about, things we discussed and made each other’s mind mad infact I did. I was full of stubbornness and carried no act of shame inside me because I never felt bad what we really did, pleasuring someone I know with the best counts as a good deed in the platform of my luggage.
Carrying salt and savory all over my chops was a good time of summer. Don’t believe in the truth, stop caring about people because these living insects are not gonna make you live outside unless you try on your own. Words are not a good option of paying back but act can be. Have some courage, open the door and start making your steps on the stairs you’ve build for yourself and don’t let anybody know about them till you reach your destiny.

Ask the dust

The person who hardly believed that he was a fine writer of great diversion, John Fante known as Arturo Bandini as a character of imagination in this book. Mesmerizing the view of his life wouldn’t be a shortcut to the novel because he had made everything possible for earn out a living not only for himself but his mother who was back there in Colorado, waiting for her son to return at one hand and on the second hand for her peaceful death. Despite of telling people about his life, Arturo decided to tell it in a mannerful way or you can say in a writers way. Letting words flourish through his typewriter on to the paper, seeking for the reply from his god man friend- Hackmuth (the one who used to approve his books and get them published), the Mexican beauty he met at the Columbia buffet named Camilla Lopez. Arturo  was a man of sand who sticks to a desert only and for him his desert was Camilla, the Mexican girl who used to serve beer in the hotel. She was a tall, mocking creature wearing a black dress with a white apron and by her feet she always wear the huaraches which he might thought hurt her but they were as sweet as a corn dipped in sweet mustard. Camilla danced over her huaraches whenever she serves beer, what a splendid way she had adopted. This was the first time when he started falling for her soul but she never let me touched her soul as if it was the only thing she couldn’t live without.
Camilla ofcourse loved another man, the one who used to work with him called ‘Sammy‘ but he never loved her back the way she did. As for Arturo, it was his work and Camilla but what a lucky fortune cookie he had that he wrote books to exception and found enough fame for him and his typewriter but what lastly he wanted was Camilla, the call of desert, the dunes of a beach and the prickling peddles from the window. God wasn’t fair to him at all and this made him disbelieving the existence of god. He never blamed him for anything since he had everything after a faithful prayer but on another call he never found what he actually prayed for. Arturo was a courageous little atheist who believed in having Camilla walking on the beach with him toppling her brown skin from her clothes, biting her lower lip for a cause, running in between the shore to make Arturo catch her. Good storming he was in his brain and he did found Camilla one day after soo much of struggle but she flew away like dust without a trace of moisture from the desert.
She left Arturo in lurch and also in doubt for his whole life in the art of writing.
( Man like Arturo is hard to find, she was a dumb drug addict who left him like a dust devil. This book is in a well written shape and needs to be peruse, damn you’ll fall hard for a man like Fante).

He can actually make people think about their masterpieces. 
– Ask the dust by John Fante.



The book takes place from the life of Henry Chinaski where he is a man with limited convictions and interest in his life. Henry was an independent man with unsavored believes and hobbies. What he really want in his life was a reformed peace, a large canister of beer which may include alcohol as well and a marvelous women to fuck ( precisely with notable details of having a nice pair of legs with silk stockings and breast of 40 size) this made a women perfect for him to fuck.
Chinaski was a child who had parents to care about his life but since he never wanted to interfere in anybody’s matter, he decided not to get anybody into his life. Spending time at his fathers house was like a stay at hotel with the same cooperation, restrictions and a rent to pay off his ass. He struggled many times to get a piece of job and make of living by having his desires accomplish but luck never went through his side.
His career was not only based on writing, but everything which can make him earn a few pennies to live on and have a women beside.
What I’ve experienced up till now is that he was an intimate writer who thought that this shitty world needs to get his ass right on the stool where there is less chances of falling. But since he was a lonely person with multiples jobs from outrageous outlets, he never fitted in one and so he decided to poop over each of them one by one and start living a life of a factotum, leaving behind his passion of writing he began to serve every kind of hospitality but never last longer. He was always dismissed from the post because of his delinquent act whether it was non-seriousness, fucking one of the worker, drinking alcohol which he couldn’t stay away of.
He had this whole world infront of him but he wanted a life like other people, he always wished to stay in his room naked, bottles of beer to drink as one finishes, a pack of cigarettes and a perfect fuck laying besides him lingering her legs all over him. This was his decent life with many flaws that he doesn’t give a fuck to.
(It took me 3 days to finish it and in these three days I couldn’t resist myself masturbating thrice a day) 🙂

What a flawless piece of scratch he just wrote in a few pages
– Factotum by Charles Bukowski.


To — — — Ulalume: A Ballad by Edgar Allan Poe

The skies they were ashen and sober;
      The leaves they were crispéd and sere—
      The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
      Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
      In the misty mid region of Weir—
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
      In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
Here once, through an alley Titanic,
      Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul—
      Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
      As the scoriac rivers that roll—
      As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
      In the ultimate climes of the pole—
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
      In the realms of the boreal pole.
Our talk had been serious and sober,
      But our thoughts they were palsied and sere—
      Our memories were treacherous and sere—
For we knew not the month was October,
      And we marked not the night of the year—
      (Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber—
      (Though once we had journeyed down here)—
We remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
      Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
And now, as the night was senescent
      And star-dials pointed to morn—
      As the star-dials hinted of morn—
At the end of our path a liquescent
      And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
      Arose with a duplicate horn—
Astarte’s bediamonded crescent
      Distinct with its duplicate horn.
And I said—”She is warmer than Dian:
      She rolls through an ether of sighs—
      She revels in a region of sighs:
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
      These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion
      To point us the path to the skies—
      To the Lethean peace of the skies—
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
      To shine on us with her bright eyes—
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
      With love in her luminous eyes.”
But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
      Said—”Sadly this star I mistrust—
      Her pallor I strangely mistrust:—
Oh, hasten! oh, let us not linger!
      Oh, fly!—let us fly!—for we must.”
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
      Wings till they trailed in the dust—
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
      Plumes till they trailed in the dust—
      Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.
I replied—”This is nothing but dreaming:
      Let us on by this tremulous light!
      Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sybilic splendor is beaming
      With Hope and in Beauty to-night:—
      See!—it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming,
      And be sure it will lead us aright—
We safely may trust to a gleaming
      That cannot but guide us aright,
      Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night.”
Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
      And tempted her out of her gloom—
      And conquered her scruples and gloom:
And we passed to the end of the vista,
      But were stopped by the door of a tomb—
      By the door of a legended tomb;
And I said—”What is written, sweet sister,
      On the door of this legended tomb?”
      She replied—”Ulalume—Ulalume—
      ‘Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!”
Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
      As the leaves that were crispèd and sere—
      As the leaves that were withering and sere,
And I cried—”It was surely October
      On this very night of last year
      That I journeyed—I journeyed down here—
      That I brought a dread burden down here—
      On this night of all nights in the year,
      Oh, what demon has tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber—
      This misty mid region of Weir—
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber—
      In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.”
Said we, then—the two, then—”Ah, can it
      Have been that the woodlandish ghouls—
      The pitiful, the merciful ghouls—
To bar up our way and to ban it
      From the secret that lies in these wolds—
      From the thing that lies hidden in these wolds—
Had drawn up the spectre of a planet
      From the limbo of lunary souls—
This sinfully scintillant planet
      From the Hell of the planetary souls?”

Mad day with mad people.

The story begins from a rushy day which was actually made by myself and a little caused by the weather. I woke up lying on the sofa because I almost slept there while listening to some old playlist of mine which suddenly appeared that night with a single touch that I made on the phone by my skinny finger. Somehow I found myself fall off the sofa which my blanket on my half body that nearly covered my legs and my toes, rest of the body was uncovered. My hand reached my phone that was under my ass. And started looking to my notifications but there was ‘none’. And someway that was a relief to my soul rather than texting those messages back is not my thing. I started my day with the header “I will take this day off” which really turned opposite to what I prayed.
The story’s long and time’s short. Let me give a brief intro to my first time. I brushed my teeth in order to remove the cigarette smell which I reek in the midnight and almost forgot to dispose it off before going to bed. After then I sneaked into the kitchen to get my breakfast. A brown bread slice with some nutella, that’s what I prefer when I don’t want to work hard to get myself a special one. Right after that I showed my face to my mother, father, brother and sister and rushed towards my sharing bedroom. Checked my accounts, accepted some freelancing from the owner. Started working so that I might finished it the present day but every work has its own day and time I can’t fix it by myself.
I had a call from my mother as she was heading towards the market so she asked me to do some dishes before she arrives back. Urghh! My first step  that broked my header. I took some interest to make that happen and before she arrived I cleaned all the house and jumped on the mattress because my back was no more available to work. And before I could take some sleep, Grandmother made her entry and asked me to take her to the market to buy something to the tea as in some supper. I couldn’t refuse her but inside I was no longer a complete energetic body to grab the staring with one hand.

I reached my love i.e Mehran and started the engine to make some rushy moves in order to get rid of the tiredness. I drove as slow as a snail on her demand but couldn’t lasted it after hearing soo much voices at a time. I asked her “What are you gonna buy for the supper? She replied, “How about samosa’s and jaleebi’s?” I shook my head and took my love to the samosa and jaleebi shop. Parked my car according to the requirement and ordered. As soon as he could come with the bag in his hands. A car stopped at my back and horned for almost 2 minutes. First I wasn’t sure if he was alarming me. I came to know when he banged his car into mine. That moment was no longer resistible. I took a step out of my car towards his and almost kicked my foot into my bumper. He shouted with a barking tone and so I was. My mouth was no longer shutted before he did. We gathered a little crowd which in result asked me to cool down and made him pay me. My grandmother was encouraging me for what I did today.

And after the success on that incident, she asked me if I can take her to the cloth market to buy some lawns but I refused to badly that she didn’t asked me again. I tighten my seat belt and drive straight back to home. Dropped her at the house and asked her to tell mother that I’ll be back soon. While I made my move to buy some drink for myself.

As the weather was rainy and windy so I decided to reach the “Gloria Jeans in H- block market because it’s deserted all the time and so I ordered a Mango smoothie served with mint chocolate bomb. I liked in there not because I was frustrated but I needed some space from everyone. I stayed there for about 90 mins and way back to home I connected ox with my phone by towering the volume. When I reached my place, rain was so heavy that I made me get wet in every drop of water that flows from the sky to let go my anger and it worked.

I find peace when I’m confused.
And I find hope when I’m let down
Not in me, me.
I hope to lose myself for good
I hope to find it in the end
But not in me, me.

June 3rd, 2015
03:58 pm


Mind took the edge away.
Eyes took the light away.
Steps took the breath away.
Then I took myself away.

Night screamed when I got a beam.
Wisdom screamed when I got prisoned.
Place screamed when I reached.
Then I took myself away.

He left when I sneaked in.
Voices left when I made a choice.
Spirits left when I ended.
Then I took myself away.

Past was recognized long ago.
Future was recognized the previous time.
Bliss was never recognized here.
Then I took myself away.

Time is nearer.
Place is decided.
Date is decided.
Then I took myself away.

Lost my mind too soon.
Lost my breath too soon.
Lost my path too soon.
Lost myself too soon.

( A satirical moment of my life
ended up writing this poetry
but took the restlessness