A woman is reduced to the ***** of her curves

to the dimensions of her ****** features

but whoever dares calculate those

should be assigned a paper big enough,

a mind smart enough,

to help them figure out the boundless extent

of the vastness of the paradise that lies under her feet.

They say that we're oppressed
Suffocating behind veils
And wear un-attractive bin bags
Shapeless and nameless

They say we're not allowed to be educated
And assume we can't speak English
That we're slaves to men
And we should forsake the medieval religion

The medieval religion that gave me life
And stopped female child infanticide
The one that treats me equal with no false illusions

The one that says that I should be respected as a person not a body
The one that first gave me rights
To vote and own property

The religion that commands me to seek knowledge and educate
To travel for this duties sake
And allows me to keep my name

Islam says that I should be covered
Like all things rare and special
Pearls and diamonds
You wouldn't flash your jewels for the taking

Nuns are admired for their devotion
And respected for their piety
Also clinging on to their modesty
Our models are Maryam or Mary

Not a cent that I earn has to be spent on anyone but myself
And the best of men in Allah's eyes
Is one who treats me the best

Exam time,
Stupid exam time
Think you're so formidable, do you?
Well I'm about to erase that
Leer off of that ugly face,
I'm going to grab you with
These hands covered in
Tired ink stains,
And mercilessly squeeze you
And extracting a handful words out,
I'll create a Poem out of you.
Oh, how much you'd hate that, right?
But yeah, that's what I'm going to do.

The second I stepped out of the exam hall,
I felt the stress lifted off my shoulders,
only to be replaced with the stress of worrying if I will pass,
or not.

Final exam week
Is essentially akin
To purgatory

What do you do when the test is through and so are you?
When you have given your all and have time to stall?

You pray to your God, only he'll help you now.

You pray that all those stray bits of knowledge,
     will somehow spin to into gold.
You pray you will get a few extra points,
     for the B S you've told...

Yes, pray to your God, only he'll help you now.

Knights clad in paper armor
Draw their pen-shaped swords
In preparation for battle
Against the dragon named Algebra

All year they've trained for this day
Poring over musty tomes
Filled with archaic battle plans
Entire armies have been lost
In the dangerous search
For the elusive variable called X

The informants A and B
Have consistently given
Inconsistent information
And the number line
Has completely deserted them

The numbers taunt the knights
Mocking their puny calculators
Confident in their unanswerable status

Yet one by one
The polynomials fall
The dragon bows it's head
The Knights have won the day.