Deep at the tender dawn, when stars were fading,
A maiden came to me, covered in light,
Looked at me with her black eyes, while persuading
Me to do something heavenly and bright.

It was something specific, and disciplined,
I did not know, although I tried to think,
But because of sleep I was limited,
Becoming ignorant with every blink.

She said to me: ''You are in danger, youth.''
I said: ''I see no danger in my bed.''
She said again: ''the fact is far from truth.''
I took it serious, stood up and said:

''Maiden, who're you?'' she said: ''I am Namaz,
Observe me well my friend, and you may pass.''

I take comfort in the reality that my days are numbered
And if I keep doing good deeds and avoiding evil I’ll wake up in a Paradise so beautiful where this life will simply just had been a bad dream
Ya Allah, I’m ready.

Was it a divine sign amongst the creation –
A revelation so lightsome and pregnant –
That a blanching feather’s unforeseen descent  
Made my poetic soul blench for evocation?

Surely, t’was from some celestial spheres, –
Angelic wings of cherubs and seraphim –
So long been soaking in firmamental affairs
That human mental senses but morphine.

A feather if eatable, a matter of addiction –
Plucking and plucking without satiety –
If been drinkable, a matter of intoxication
Leading humans into ever inebriety.

                               ---

O’ glorious feathers who hover with mystery –  
Over skyey dreams and unearthly visions –
Which land on the earth with vice and misery,
Lending the haver only vain aspirations.

O’ one-time ornaments of the seven heavens –
Brightness and whiteness of all times –
Have you no shame on the dirt of your pens
Writing worldly prose and heretic rhymes?
By-the-way, your heaven is no heaven but a sky –

As well as not every brightening is holy –
Just as Icarus has fallen from and by your high
As others are mystified by your fake glory.

                               ---

Whether art thou the sinister poker of Iblis –
Leading by a dancing feather in the hand –
Human arts like the one that let fall Ibn Idris
Calling with fair words to the Fallen’s land?

Whether divine inspirations in form of an aura –
Blown on the poor’s brow as enlightenment –
Art thou as the freshening science of soul and soma
Kindling the minds’ muscles as a tea of mint?

Oh, Only God knows of Ma’at’s Hall of gloom –  
If one’s deeds worth a feather morrow –
So, I seek only Deus’ forgiving, life-giving plume
To pardon my feather on the mortal pillow.

A Liar says this and does that.
Cries, "Insult!" at any hint of Truth.
Uses Violence as proof, for surely
only Truth is worthier than Death.

If what you hear
and what you see
are not the same,
what do you believe?

Your Eyes or your Fears?

Trump is more justice than Mohamad
Trump took money from Arab nations
Because they had money they don't deserve

He hated Muslims and released his shout
Islam is responsible for any killing occurred
Mosques is the cells for terrorist

Mohamad is the prophet of Islam
Mohamad old nation hated the new religion Islam
As it equalized between the slaves and Masters

It equalized between black and colors people
When one of Mohamad' friends swore another one
The first was white one

Another was black one
He swore with the son of the black
Mohamad got angry and talked

He told that one to apologize
The man turned and put his cheek
Under the another foot and swore

He would not get up until he put his foot over his cheek
They got up, hung and cried
Mohamad invited to new religion

His nation hated him
They put a plot
They had gathered and waited
Mohamad was known as the faith and the honest
His enemies of his nations put the valuable things to Mohamad
They put a plot to **** him

They planned and they decided
There is another power who planned
God told him and cared

In spite of taking the valuable things as requital and revenge
He ordered his cousin to sleep at his bed
As a sort of deceive and to have time to get
Out

They were forty of most trained knights
Carrying strong swords
God put sleep over them

Mohamad crossed between them

They invited all Arabs to **** them
When Badr battle occurred
His enemies were strong

They were also a lot
One their leaders said
We will go as a trip

Sing, dance, eat meat
Then defeat Mohamad
If Arab nations heard that

They fear of us
The winds blew against the desire
They were defeated

After the battle finished
Mohamad had kind heart
Who had money payed for his freedom to be happened

Who had not
He learnt ten of Muslim how to read and write
At this battle one of his friends

Had his sword been pieced
He went to the prophet
Telling him that he had any sword

Mohamad had no sword except his sword
He took a branch of tree lied
He gave it with his bless

The man took without wonder or amaze
He shocked the branch at air in strong
The branch became a strong sword

He still used it
Till his dead

50,
50 bodies,
50 dead bodies,
50 dead bodies lay still,
50 dead bodies lay still on Jumu’ah,
50 dead bodies lay still on Jumu’ah because who they pray to,
50 dead bodies lay still on Jumu’ah because who they pray to was not the same as the white man,
50 dead bodies lay still on Jumu’ah because who they pray to was not the same as the white man, but Allah has given them the highest place in Jannah.

Neither we or Allah will forget these 50 martyrs,
who's blood was shed by a white man with no love in his chest,
the white man who thought he could,
but will never win.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un.