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Moji K Jun 2016
god is
one

but we worship
a black box
in mecca

god is
one

but we think
you deserve
to die

god is
one

but we worship
a black box
in mecca

i choose a
veil for i'm
a willing slave

we cry just like
you & i

god is
one

but we worship
a black box
in mecca

you
pierce the
wrong veil

but we are not
people behind

the cries of
my brothers
silenced

god is
one

but we worship
a black box
in mecca

you laugh at
a tongue twisted
around your words

but ours still
sound crass
on yours

god is
one

but we worship
a black box
in mecca
criediple May 2016
Oh my Lord,
remove the toxic individuals
the ones that are harmed for good
remove the ones who won't do me any good

even when it was so simple
to say
But never did the consequence
occur to me
the consequence of
losing you
& I'm not quite sure
if I should be sad about it
or relieved that I'm in good hands
& Allah (swt) will find the one that fits me perfectly
lesson learned: God has it all figured out. Sabr. Patience and you'll be good.
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
Sleep disrobes
shyly with the
coyest eyes

Tonight she is early

She takes my hand
and we waltz

kisses my eyelids
my forehead

I am unglued

We are one

lost

I reach for her
before dawn

I feel the warmth
where she lay

She is gone

I wash and bend
to pray

to thank  

She kisses my eyelids
breathes on
my neck

Has she sensed
that my mind is
with another?

She slips from
the room again

I feel her

close

gone
(c) Copyright J S A Hayward 2016

Note: the Fajr (pre-dawn) prayer is the first of the five obligatory daily prayers in Islam.
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
A caliph trembles at the sound of aircraft
like a dachshund beaten too much while
his pack snap and bite and **** their legs
to *** on a better world

Their state is a chewed thighbone
covered in flies yet they mint coins
in gold and silver and praise God as they
throw effeminate teenagers off rooftops

A Turkish fisherman with a large shoe
stuffs cash into a pregnant pocket
and crams frightened souls into the shoe
which sinks on the horizon like the sun

Assassins have the crescent moon
in their left hands ***** pictures
on their phones and tight vests
leaking lava

She searched for tips on eyeliner
the day she erupted as a volcano
leaving her sheer blouse to mourn
at home on the ironing board

The world has become as mad
as Napoleon in stiletto heels
cross-legged on the back
of a tortoise singing Hey Jude
(c) Copyright J S A Hayward 2016
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
We rode to Ta’if on a flying carpet
— a Toyota with a missing hubcap

sweeping through  fattened clouds
which clung to the hilltops like grazing bison

arriving on the otherworldly plateau that wore
the death shroud of an old hermit’s mystery

which our Prophet reached in sandals as ******
as the deck of a Nantucket whaling ship

Arabian Himalayas. He climbed like a yak
and the Lord strengthened his steps

Our taxi driver — as lost as the cheque in the mail —
poked at his satnav and called his mates

The Almighty’s beloved followed the angel and
never lost his way. He strained with pain

Our driver’s mirrored eyes intruded while we
held hands on the back seat and yawned

The Lord smiled down upon his aching friend
and eased the pain in cramping calves

A sagging mosque now hunches where the ignorant
had cast away the chance of a lifetime

Oh think if they had taken him in — Medina
would sit as a happy king on a mountain throne

I immortalised my love in a photo in that mosque
praying as a saint where our hero had struggled

I adore my captured shaikha and the memory
of when we followed in the footsteps of our Prophet
© Copyright  J.S.A. Hayward 2016
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
When you come
you’ll reach to take what
I’ve clutched tight

You’ve done it a lot
— especially lately

You did it to that unsuspecting lady
when she stepped off the bus
on Philpotts Road

To that sleeping girl
with the mousy hair in
the children’s ward

To her father three months later

To my own dad while he prayed
by the bed and slumped

To that old pope who shook
like a wet dog in a sou’wester

I read again last week how you visited
the homes of those who wouldn’t
splash blood on their doors

Now that’s something!

I know what you want and I’m onto you

When you come I’ll be ready — I hope
and I’ll hand it to you without protest

But I have a request, if I may, and I hope
you’ll ask on my behalf:

Please don’t visit her before you call on me
© Copyright  J.S.A. Hayward 2016
ConnectHook Apr 2016
☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮

Exporting democracy, whorelets and song
You dwell in the center of endless supply
as customer-king you can never be wrong.
Your choice is the answer—now shut up and BUY.

Gadgets with touchscreens and upgrades to boot –
Distractions and playthings to dazzle the eye;
Your choices are regal, your credit assured;
Your country is closing soon. Shut up and buy.

The Ishmaelite hordes are released from the dam
the sluice-gates are opened, the waters descend.
Our Empire, ignorant, closes its eyes
Babylonian currencies bank on the trend

Mohammedans know that the West is a Beast
and the least of their worries—their Caliph is nigh.
We shop as they’re chopping; expanding their brand.
The muezzin is wailing now: shut up and buy.

They hear and obey while you’re watching the game.
The refugee nations, with time on their hands,
flow over the borders demanding attention
Malign infiltration. Deception expands.

These newest dependents refuse to assimilate
whining of racism, milking the state
Government, clueless, declares them immaculate.
Holy diversity Batman—it’s late !

They wait for their moment. You’re scared to offend.
it’s the Christians you wish would oblige you and die
The Muslims, you know, are committed to peace
and that’s something to celebrate: shut up and buy.

No borders no flags, social justice, no war
(nor knowledge of history, conflict or God)
Universal utopia, scaffolded lies
crashing down (but you’re busy defining jihad)

Poor traumatized victims. Concern never ends
It’s our fault they are here: it’s a charity high.
They laugh in your face with your back to the wall.
Your nation’s invaded so shut up and die.
☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮
a  poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016
            ✿
www.connecthook.wordpress.com
            ☮
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
Great whales’ hearts thud
Allah … Allah
Eight times
Each grey
Minute

The hummingbird calls
Faster, much faster
The name in
A whir of
Acclamation

Knuckly stiff fingers
Count misbaha beads
In resin while
The mind strokes
Each for a second

A baby’s colic cry
And a mother’s
Soft shushing
Hold a meaning
Understood

The aches of the
Lonely and penitent
Are never felt
By only
One

In everything lives
The memory of
An echo of that
First word
“Be”
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