Warm was the early spring morning,
Cuckoos in the trees were cooing,

The sparkling sun and blue sky yearned to dance
and both did exchange shy glances,

There I was working in my yard,
The neighbour strolled by watching with eyes hard,

The fence was of wood picket made,
I stood and stretched by the garden's golden gate,

The street yet in slumber curled and yawned,
I watched the departing robes of dawn,

By the by a step gentle was heard walking by,
The sight made me with joy want to cry,

It was a young lad dressed in white
And upon his head rested a cap round and bright,

A book he lovingly cradled to his chest,
Off to a place of solitude was he, he was one blessed,

As to the ground kneeled I for the soil to prepare
Mine ears upon the air heard a rustle rare,

It was the sound of a skirt fluttering,
Patterns with flowers red all over floating,

My head did bump upon the fencing post,
My concentration vanished like a ghost,

Awkwardly I rose to my feet,
My senses sent scuttling and me flushing with heat,

We two were strangers, both unmarried,
But you did on that spring morning pause and tarry,

Our eyes locked and smiled
And you with fiery beauty my heart beguiled,

Words of greeting were sung as I dropped my garden tool,
You whispered you were late for to teach at the school,

My crippled reply remained stitched upon my lips,
My mouth frozen with love's words etched on my tongue's tip,

I imagined a feeling intense, warm and rare,
Would that I had dared to embrace and with you a kiss shared,

From my mind to spine did my body tingle
With the immense pleasure to love with you mingle,

A kiss with you upon your luscious lips scented with a rose,
O, with that glorious song I could my book of life thus close,

This and much more that lovely day I dreamed,
How long ago it now seems,

In the beating of a heartbeat
You forever disappeared down the street,

You were gone without a shadow or trace,
In my heart you left a hollow place.



©Rangzeb Hussain

Say...

There is one God,
There is none like unto Him,
For He is the Light
of the heavenly Glory,
All-knowing, all wise,
The Eternal
and Most High is He,
To Him do we turn in praise,
To Him do we seek salvation,
He is the beautiful Beloved,
The divine Creator
of the joy of life.

Say...

There is no God
but the One true God,
It is His love that beats richly
in all searching souls,
He is the One and Only,
No partners does He have,
He is the Life immortal,
His is the name sweetly sung
in the early morning dew,
He is the ever loving God,
The most Beneficent
and most Merciful.

Say...*

God is great!

Who will write our songs now?
Our children only know the sad chants of death.

Who will weep for our forgotten dead?
Our histories are buried under mountains of war.

Who will rock us to sleep now?
Our pillows are pockmarked with the roar of nightmares.

Who will sing and celebrate our days now?
Our skies are filled with the screams of death’s drones.

Who will feed us now?
Our hunger feeds our minds and sustains our souls.

Who will smile with us now?
Our families have been harvested into early earthen graves.

Who will remember us now?
Our haunted smiles are all that remain.

*Will you also take that from us?

He cracked her cheeks,
He tore to ribbons her dreams,
He sliced and licked her life,
He spat venom into her veins,

His hands dug into her soul,
His eyes poured hatred over her,
His words burned inside her,
His twisted lies killed her trust,

She clings to a glass of Hope,
She stares into pain's abyss,
She has tasted bitter rain,
She stood all alone in the storm,

She dares to spread her wings,
She dares to play with the air,
She dares to live once more,
She dares to fear no more...

Read me and weep

You carrion crows

Begone!

Beware the lies of truth!

Leave my tree of tears

For this is my song

And my tale is yet to be told.



©Rangzeb Hussain

In the halo of a secluded summer's stone,
A hush,
A stillness under the shade of slumbering trees,

This was life, living and breathing,
Singing too,
Now, only the weeping silence,

A name etched upon a fading headstone,
Fingerprints and memories withered away,
Upon the summer's light it still glimmers,

Nature's tender embrace soothes broken stone,
Curling and wiping away the past,
Death shall never darken the songs of life.

Out there in the field of thoughts,
go grow your Hate,
shower it with the rain of Love,
fertilize it with Compassion,
tend to it with Justice
and at the harvest of Autumn
feed the poor at the world's door.



©Rangzeb Hussain

She told no one...*



©Rangzeb Hussain

In the room there is a heart beating fast and fresh,
A child newly dressed from heaven’s kingdom blessed,

Touch and feel the softness of unpainted beauty,
No pressure yet, no career, no worries, nor any duties,

Breathe in and taste the fragrance of sweet paradise,
This perfume is innocence; it can never be bought or priced,

What lovely eyes, full of vitality and life’s bright energy,
The world has not yet cast its shadows on this miracle of biology,

Mother and child glow in a world drunk on darkness,
This gift to mankind, this birth makes Death hopeless.

You, yes you...

You think you know?

Tell me, what do you know?

You can give me facts and figures,
Lists of numbers and statistics,
You speak in a dry dead monotone,
You know this but you don't feel it.

But know you this...

Every number,
Yes, every number,
Every dot on that page,
They were people.

People who looked different,
Dressed different,
Danced different,
Sang different.

They had the same pearly passions,
The same daily dreams,
The same jolly joys,
The same high hopes.

Into cattle trucks wet with abattoir stink,
Into barbed wire tattooed around veins,
Into cells shrill with apocalyptic hymns,
Into Death's breathing gas.

Remember them,
Their tales were ours,
There is blood on the wires of history,
Look to it and fear it...

Humanity?
We preach it
but we fail to live it
or wake up and embrace it.



©Rangzeb Hussain

Life
Lies,
Love
Lusted,
Trust
Tortured,
Shell
Shocked,
Bones
Batt­ered,
Jagged
Justice,
Desolate
Death.



©Rangzeb Hussain

There is art housed and closed,
It stagnates in museums
Under cold lock and key,
People come and point,
They nod and take notes.

And then there is art right here,
Open and fresh and free,
Look there, right there,
In the darkness eyes glow,
The art of the city embraces us.

Beauty drips from the tunnel wall,
Colour glistens and paint ripples,
This is art wet with the lips of passion,
I heard them say a pop star came here,
I say the street art star is always here.

Her empire, once vast and free, is now walled up,
He marked her face with the scars of unkind kisses,

Her floating ship with all her ambition has been beached,
He sabotaged her boat of hopes and drowned her dreams,

Her bank rich with love and treasures untold has been robbed,
He crept into the secret chambers of her heart and left her hollow,

Her reservoir of strength no longer runs fresh and deep,
He tunneled into her and leaked away her innocence and life source,

Her days of blue and white light are now anchored with gravestones,
He carved his name on her fear and showed the world he owned her,

Her songs of pearls and paper butterflies lie silent and wrecked,
He tattooed his ruthless red rage and rules inside her trembling throat,

Her spirit…
He will never be able to touch or tarnish her spirit.

The message was not a bunny or a rabbit,
The message was not barbarism or violent habits,
The message was not sacred war or mass ******,
The message was not invasion or racial hatred,

The message was freedom to live and love,
The message was faith in peace’s dove
The message was mercy in the world community,
The message was unity through a shared humanity.

There are angels buried in gravestones
And devils carved into human souls,

Under the marble crawls the tail of a serpent
And the death of life is scaled across its back.

There is a signature etched into her bones
And a stale message hums a storm in her veins,

At the dusk of another fast dying day she weeps
And grief scratches through the doors of her heart.

Would

that I

could

turn back

the weeping

tides of time...



©Rangzeb Hussain

"...in the sensual warmth of dawn
my nose did inhale the fair aroma of a rich flavour,
Dark caressing gold,
In this fragile cup, a cup rare,
My hands do hold a pearled world,
For in this liquid empire floats universal love and hope,
I put my lips to the cup and taste the whole wide world,
what a precious toast I raise to the heavens up on high..."

Remember,
That first year in uncertain September,
She kissed you goodbye at the weeping gates,
School soon gave birth to new and exciting mates.

Remember,
The perfumed sweat of that summer,
Cool was the shade she so breezily offered,
You screamed and thundered and all her hopes shattered.

Remember,
The stainless snows of December,
Warm were the embers of the kitchen’s delicious fireplace,
Those well wrapped memories stay warm in the mind’s secure space.

Remember,*
The lost and lonely nights of November,
Gone was the warmth and safety of her love’s vast stream,
The nightmare days you feared now snuggle and drown your dreams.

They tried to bury the King who lived amongst beggars,
His was the Kingdom where the throne shimmered with prayers,
He had no need for the bloodstained seat of man-made power,

His crown was studded with the rapturous light of truth,
They came to carve out the heart of mercy at the break of dawn,
Their swords and spears twinkled under the newly born sunlight,

Wood, nails, hammers and spears, daggers  too,
They wished to silence one who walked in the valley of the lepers,
In the court of snakes and vipers they scorned his words of hope,

They could not extinguish the message of the Beloved,
His words were written at the very first light of the first day,
Their eternal beauty has seduced and melted mountains into rivers.

As I entered the subway in the early morning spit and drizzle
My sleep rusted eyes saw bags, black plastic bags,
Bin bags, there were three, huddled at the far end,
Against the biting cold, the trinity of bags rustled,
Flipping, flapping, hugging, seeking warmth in the tunnel.

And yet…

When my shoes slipped across the wet subway floor
And I got nearer to the ******* heap at the far end,
My eyes suddenly froze and my steps slowed,
Those bin bags were acting as a windbreaker,
A windbreaker for a body upon the concrete floor.

A man without a home…

Wind, shrieking a heartless hymn of obscene guilt,
It punched through my carefully guarded sense of humanity,
A man slept there, discarded and forgotten, head near the gutter,
Shoes curled, body curled, a man searching for a mother’s warmth,
The light above harsh, dank, and as lifeless and as merciless as a tomb.

Do not forsake him…

This man, he was the son of the morning, dreaming in lands unknown,
Sleeping in lands known, attacked by politicians, kicked by society,
Demonized by the press and bitten by the rabid media machine,
Knifed by the blade of youth, and eulogized by the church and elders,
Yet, through it all, we all knew, and we silently walked on our way.

His feet* – they walked upon the waters of untarnished truth,

His knees – kneeled to no man for He was a King amongst mortal men,

His legs – always journeyed to the valley overflowing with warm wishes,

His body – was the embodiment of all that is rich and wholesome,

His arms – embraced both me, you, him and her, young, old, black or white,

His fingers – as smooth and supple as the skies before summer’s soft rains,

His neck – lifted high not in pride or anger, only tilted upwards towards the Beloved,

His lips – spoke yesterday, to me today and to you tomorrow, to all everywhere,

His nose – inhaled the scent of newly born flowers on the eve of Spring of yesteryear,

His eyes – saw the miracle of life, and sleeping death held no fear or dominion,

His hair – every strand curled to form a heavenly glowing crown upon His head,

His message – it will live and sing longer than the executioner’s silent song,

His love – is the lyric of this life, it is life everlasting and in it lives our Lord.

So…

You see me,
You judge me,
You pity me,
You forsake me.

You burgled me,
You marked me,
You left me,
You forgot me.

*I stand alone no more…

I stand tall,
I stand high,
I stand silent,
I stand still.

I walk with friends,
I walk with truth,
I walk past the lies,
I walk to freedom.

Christian, Jew, Muslim,
And Human,
This was a city of Humanity,
All rested and shared here.

We all played here.

Israel, Palestine, Earth,
And flesh and bone,
This was a city of Unity,
All sang and worshipped here.

We all held hands here.

Stones, bullets, drones,
And weeping mothers,
This was a city of Peace,
All fruits and flowers here.

We all ate here.

Anger, violence, fire,
And putrid lies,
This was a city of Truth,
All spoke and respected here.

We all listened here.

Before I was Jerusalem,
Before I was Palestine,
Before I was Israel,
I was a child here.

*We are all forgotten here.

I believed,
You lied

I gave,
You craved

I cried,
You tried

I remembered,
You forgot

I loved,
You mocked

I slaved,
You depraved

I wrote,
You joked

I hurt,
You searched

I waited,
You hated

I died,
You sighed



©Rangzeb Hussain

Be the spirit of new hope,
Be calm and be free,
Be happy and serene,
Be the beauty of new born peace,
Be loving and be kind,
Be in touch with the glory of the divine,
Be human,
Be gentle,
Be united,
Ameen.

I sit in a world with crucified colours,
But O my people,
I have a rainbow gleaming in my heart,

The wind shrieks and scratches at my hopes,
But O my people,
I keep alive the flame of my dreams,

Death combs cold air through my hair,
But O my people,
I am content and nourish my fears with Life,

War has stormed through my house and lands,
But O my people,
In my arms I cuddle the seeds of a new day.

The night of my soul is here,
And the ship of my life has sunk,
My songs scatter over the dark skies,
And my hopes melt upon the breath of the sun.

But know this...

A new song will rise,
A new light will shine,
A new day will dawn.

They killed a Man,

They killed a Message,

They Killed a Vision,

They killed a Dream,

They killed universal Peace,

But...

No matter what they do,

The Dream still lives on,

The Dream still marches on,

The Dream still shines on,

The Dream still glows brightly on.



©Rangzeb Hussain

Beauty is theirs,
Grace is theirs,
Life is theirs,
And freedom,
Yes, freedom too,

They are the bringers of life,
Lighting away the darkness,
Giving hope in times of despair,
They are the jewels of the universe,
Smoothing away all troubles,

Treat them with love,
And kindness,
Remember them before the ticking of time,
And hold them close,
Respect and trust their bond,

Life eternal sings in their hearts.

Upon the tides of Easter,
A King was chained to a crown,
And shackled to the cross of ages.

Into Freedom's fields
walked this blessed giver of
miracles and mercy.

Who dares to cage and nail his brother?
Who dares to drill a poor orphan’s soil?
Who dares to cancer the beauty of peace?

Remember Him,
Love Him,
Heed Him.

Her life was measured by the shimmering song of life,

Her beauty will live on in the art and memory of mankind,

Her name was Norma Jeane but Marilyn was her star’s sign,

Her eyes now drink in the dreaming valley of the eternal divine.

Spring still lies buried in the memory of ice,
The flowers of the season are curled in slumber,
Warmer days seem so distant and fragile,
In her sad heart the seeds of Spring slowly germinate.

The tides of Christmas brought a new song on the air,
The life of freedom was kissed and warmly blessed,
They called her the Mother of the eternal Saviour,
Her pure blood gave colour to the petals of her red rose.

The years hailed sharp and fast and the Lord of wisdom matured,
The soldiers sharpened their infernal spears and spikes,
The sands of time spat hot thorns through men’s minds,
She hugged her Son and crowned him with merciful sleep.

He caressed away the tears from eyes sad before their time,
They came in search of the Healer who washed away fear and pain,
He kissed his Mother’s palms and the scent of the rose was there,
She wrapped his aching pain in her tears and whispered peace in his ears.

YESTERDAY* shines with the golden glow of memory,
Ah, how sweet indeed was love & life!*

TODAY struck the day with the mace of destiny,
O, how cruel thou art!

TOMORROW is yet to be unveiled,
Oh, how it excites and tingles with mystery & fresh hope!



©Rangzeb Hussain

He comes with the shadows of another dead day...

She hears fog coughing in the dark splinters of her mind,
It lingers and prowls on the edge of her haunted eyes,
The sharp crack of her bones screams through the night,
Her bruised silken skin drips with love’s betrayed blood.

He snakes into her soul and leaves the venom of his passion...

The night howls with each of her swollen sighs,
A silhouette of a rising nightmare fists into her face,
Her nose shatters into fragments from a story still untold,
The tongue inside her mouth drowns in warm blood.

He is the nightmare from which she will never again wake...

The romantic room growls and scratches her with impatience,
The white sheet crawls up her legs and wraps around her neck,
Her lipstick leaks down her cheeks and she twitches no more,
Outside in the sky of the night the moon bleeds into the clouds.

He smiles and wipes away her dead tears as her soul evaporates...