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I guess, it just felt a little strange. Usually I was always drowning in my thoughts.
To the point where it consumed me. My...my mind...at times,
was my demise,
as much as it also saved me.
But, there were these moments where I lived.
And, it was beautifully tragic because, he knew exactly what it was.
He didn't just hear or see it.
I guess, we as humans,
just feel these moments.
He knew me well,
he understood my laugh.
I learned who I am and why I exist. And I told you to never doubt that I am an extremist.
When I cry, the universe shakes a little. But, when I smile and laugh,
I am selfless.
I just gave and gave my soul to him. He could close his eyes and still dance with every detail.
I was alive.

                      
                          ~ A. Almoudheji
Imagine a world without terror outer
and inner, sans famine of food and water,
where every soul is well-sated; a world
sans sickness and disease, not by the cord
of morbidity and death held; a place
where huts are mansions, every shack is
a castle, and each flat a grand manor;
where the roads are built with pure gold
and the bridges with resplendent diamond;
where the day does not change in colour,
except when full moon in its full array
once in a month has its  own display.

I mean a planet steeping in love
unfeigned, bristling with true hospitality
of the soul; a world bereft of danger,
and of every mind-and-heart breaker;
a world with the similitude of the garden of
Eden, hung on the shoulders of harmony--
where man at another cove's lovely dove
will not leer, where there are
no split and divorce. The genre, stuff
of life where one's pigmentation is
not the cardinal, but the inner essence.

A sort of society where ******, Hussein
and Laden-like fellows and all their
coterie of killers do not have a lair
of habitation, i refer; where besetting sin
has no confederacy with the rotary heart
and mind of man; where the leagues
of villians are non-existence. An earth
where conglomeration of wicked cliques
is non-operational: where everyone be
holy--no child soilder, nor forced labour;
where women are not ravaged in cruelty
of acts, and is void of conflict and war.

Such a place "the world" is not called
but "heaven: governed by the Almighty Lord.
 Jul 2013 Hassan Haji
Jess Petra
The infinitely large and deep eyes
Against mysterious and elegant black skin
Unite our dark and romantic heaven

The beautiful are difficult to obtain beneath these skies
As if in another world to win
We live hidden past the shadows and around eleven

Peaceful night chaos reject the sunrise
In search of wondrous dreams from angelic twins
Leaving this whole world make believe

Fly by the clouds drawn by black horses
In simple black dresses
With long black tresses

Where there is no light
Just ivory black
Figure pottery black
And chinese ink sticks black

— The End —