Fearless

They're all alone
The mud ,the wind,the sun and water
All over all around
Alone and lifeless
And when the wind blew on that mud
The sun looked down to throw its light
The mud cried for being weak
To stop the wind and blind the sun
But that weak mud felt waters touching its tender grains
It sounded like a big bang
Deep inside
When the water kissed the dying mud
And sun shone high to separate them
Helping the wind to win the war
The blood is no where but there is pain
The revenge is no where but there is  evil
The wind shaped the wet mud to a face
That got dried under the angry sun
And there is life.
And there is life.
And there is life.
Where the fear exist
With love and pain.

-Aroon Che

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Money

"Money is this beautiful girl, in the world of men, like you, me and all.
Out of extreme desires to own its beauty,
We range ourselves from good, bad and ugly,
And end up doing things,
From betraying a friend to assisting an enemy.

We cross the rules,
We break some,
We create new ones
And we bribe the rest.
All is to enjoy its beauty.

We fight each other,
We kill each other,
We are never in peace when this girl is with us,
And we are never in rest when it’s with others.
We grow up in sea of jealousness, greedy and callousness.
Everything we do is for this beautiful girl.

Money is this one little beautiful girl.
We are just the vultures, with brains,
Hovering on it, to pluck our shares.
And once we fail to have it
And couldn’t get it, we call it a slut.
But when we own it, we call it a goddess."
Aroon Che

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A Room less lived in

Long ago, when there was no time,

We waited for so long, to know how old we are

We traveled so far, to know how near we should be

To ourselves.

It’s painful, when we tried to smile

At things that never went wrong

It’s disappointing when the apples do not fall

In to your garden from the neighbor’s

And when we grow some, we build walls

Around the yield and around every little thing

Long ago, when we came to know how old we were

It’s saddening to know our beliefs are synthetic  

And our travels have no ethic.

The walls, we paint them every day with a color our friends like

And grow the apples orange to make them live in our gardens

It’s hurting to see we run away from time

Though it never chased us to death, we die

Though it never requested to live, we never couldn’t

Our friends leave us and so do everyone

In our limbo of smiles and cries.

Down below the Lazarus pits

We grew up old enough to die

Only to relive every moment of our falseness

With real smiles in real times.

-Aroon Che

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