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Arizona Indigo Jan 2013
My land has been ripped.
Its seeds trapped beneath
cinders of ash and rock.
Its root suffocating.
Its branches
no longer branches,
and its buds weeping
somewhere along the edge
of heaven looking
down upon bent cities
mourning those whose
flesh are screaming
to kiss the innocent
skin-like fingernails
of newborn children who
have been burned to death.

And the children!
Oh! The children!
They are sealed within
the winds that dance along
Lebanons green motherly lands
as the embers and crumbs whistle
an eerie tune through the
emptiness of the streets;
My heart is burning with
the souls that have died
a thousand different ways.

Somewhere over the mounds
of Lebanon, souls
that once breathed her air full
of joyous pride, clutch
to the sadness and adorn her
in prayer.

I believe with all that I believe that
somewhere deep within the forests
of her beauty,
Lebanon is smiling
awaiting rejuvenation,
awaiting a nation
dancing in
illumination

One day we will open
our dead eyes and find
that the capital of heaven is
Beirut.
Finally salvation.
-Arizona
Elena Mustafa Oct 2020
Ma salaam a habibi
As I hope that
Allah can believe you
More then mortal me
Or my mortal
Ma salaama habibi
I wished
That our love became
A reality

Good by my love
Fate is cruel
guliyeva naila May 2013
From white sakura in the garden way,
had gone the milky odor sprey.
and icy heart of flooding sense
that is not me ....
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...
The sun kisses mountines , fields
Reflect on Caspian black waters ...
May be i dream of early twilight moon,
Ridding the pinky horse ....
that is not me ...
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...
I sent the doves with posts
three or four indeed....but...
They hadnt been read .
may be they still in net...
You sang me the song on the old quatar,
fingers dance a melody ...Habibi ...
Are you alive ?
Then i greet you with hugs
Then ...i will die from hapiness
Just for you...Habibi !
Please be alive ...let me know ....
that is not me ...
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...
Max Neumann Nov 2019
dear black folks i
want to be white

dear white folks i
want to be black

dear biracials i want to be
black and white
at the same time

(much love to my kids)

dear jews i
want to be a muslim

dear muslims i
want to be a jew

can you help me out
brother?

can you help me out
sister?

can you help me out
rabbi?

can you help me out
habibi?

i need someone
like you folks

who is aware of
DSR
guliyeva naila May 2013
From white sakura in the garden way,
had gone the milky odor sprey.
and icy heart of flooding sense
that is not me ....
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...
The sun kisses mountines , fields
Reflect on Caspian black waters ...
May be i dream of early twilight moon,
Ridding the pinky horse ....
that is not me ...
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...
I sent the doves with posts
three or four indeed....but...
They hadnt been read .
may be they still in net...
You sang me the song on the old quatar,
fingers dance a melody ...Habibi ...
Are you alive ?
Then i greet you with hugs
Then ...i will die from hapiness
Just for you...Habibi !
Please be alive ...let me know ....
that is not me ...
that pencil wispered to a paper sheet...
Marina Al Hassan Sep 2020
Touch me
Kiss me
Call me your little habibi
Make love to me
Sweetly

Ropes
Chains and hand cuffs
**** me
Sweetly
Marie-Lyne Nov 2017
Mashrou’ Leila will lead the revolution
Songs made in my country never fought the system
They never expressed what the youth wanted
or how they really felt about themselves
But their songs make us dream to the Marrikh
They give us a connection to reality in Fasateen
They expressed what the society of spectacle is in only 3 minutes
We could think about our ex in Ala babu
We are able to remember our country in Lel watan
How we always live in a state of exile in **** El-Khandaq
Manipulations In a daily life in Taxi
Grief and tough love in Abdo
Evolution and infinite surrenders in Wa Nueid
The barriers of language and sexuality in Kalaam
The devastating stages of a separation in Bahr
The closeness of strangers in Habibi
They are The Doors of our generation
They made crowds go crazy just like The Rolling Stones
But at the same time they were pure and melancholic just like Jeff Buckley
Thank you for keeping us alive in dark days and heavy nights
Your music will always give us new and unfamiliar feelings
Marina Al Hassan Sep 2020
*** for habibi
*** in me as we
Watch disgusting
Gory horror
Movies
*** in my mouth
As you watch the movie
As I **** on your
****
Max Neumann Jun 2021
tizzy looped his past: he had looped it and then looped it howevah, whoop to diz
gangstapoetry boosted its duties newly
we simply gs, whose duties include

slowmoflow like snoop, or p, ain't no thang
i create slang in the hate center, last trip i flew thru loops, break dancers and readers
want answers, so we give straight answers

lyrics of fame bangers, one rhyme for eight
don't take chances, tizz stylobate, sunrise
poems born from crime, give it some time
gotta come right, sell it all at one price

my blood cries in rough nights, plagued by
enough of tough stuff, but me ain't a fluff
i bluff and take what's rightfully mine
tizz is frightfully nice, he neva comes twice

coco loco, monica matadora tending
first song jeezy's "poppin" pimpin pimpz
red-blodded hamza comin ova to test me
subtly intimidating, i just call him "habibi"

ice breaker, you feel me, we good, truly
check out jammed jay, pushin designer
hamza on the toilet, yayo, his girl, bunny
snugglin wit jammed jay for real by now

close to my dj area, rubbin *** gainst ****
tina staring camly into her secret intention
i expect something vaguely, forget it, tho
as hamza al-mighty gets back, explodes

he beats up jay, promptly breakin' his nose
jay looks at the blood; pulls out a cudgel
bashin hamza's skull, flesh splinters
hamza strikes back wit em bludgeons

wondaland's red light, serving proudly 24/7
hamza's pack, yousif, said, wassim and mo
ready to battle the enemy of the enemy
lego goon, antwone, bobby butchah, juan
*  GANGSTAPOETRY  *  CREATION 96  *
Timo Kat Dec 2014
Where I’m from,*
               unlike what Willie Perdomo says,
                        she might know
                                   where I was from.

Where I’m from,
                we love the breath of whispers.
                         My mom would sing and rhyme
                                   in the ears of my little sisters.

                She would hum and mumble,
                         my dad would whistle,
                                   they would never grumble
                                             until we fall asleep.

Where I’m from,
               we greet with
                          "guten morgen"
                                     to everyone in the breakfast’s table,
               and we smile and say,
                          "takk for maten"
                                     for those who serve the food.

Where I’m from,
            we play with colors for Holi,
                       we fast Ramadan,
                                  we celebrate Christmas.

Where I’m from,
                 we wish you Happy birthday
                               in more than 90 languages,
                                        and these are the advantages;
                              we make you a strawberry cake,
                         we even make you a card,
      but we might throw you in a lake,
or prank you very hard.

Where I’m from,
          we say,
                 “Ni hao ma?”
                           For the person living next door,
when we leave
          we say,
                “hasta luego mi amor.”

Where I’m from,
                we love the breath of whispers,
          she whispers,
                         “habibi, waheshtini.”
          I reply,
                         "I missed you more,"
          and add
                         “Ma armastan sind.”

Where I’m from,
           the smell of your kisses
                      plays with my senses
               so,
                      I could hear your hair,
                   I could taste your beauty,
                I could see your wintry smell
               and I could touch the echo of
                               I love you
              spelled out from your mouth.
Erin Halle Jun 2016
Perhaps you are at peace,
or filled with wonder
and curiosity.

Perhaps your eyes burn,
seeing a world that is unclear
and slow.

Perhaps you imagine your sister,
calling your name so that you can return
to the carefree day above.

Perhaps you want to stay,
unmoving, heavy, gently sinking, and
wondering if anyone will notice.

Regardless,
you lift your body back up,
breaking the seal between
awareness and isolation.

Water that had weighed you down
is now humbled to mere drops,
stripped away by the cold air.

There is a sound to this feeling,
this return to clarity,
and you hear the transition
from nothing to everything.

It's the sound of the water,
surrounding your ears,
being replaced by air.

It's the sound of the hazy dream,
being swept away
by the reality of a sunny morning.

It's the sound of you, habibi,
whispering
bamoot feeki

It's the sound of being brought back to life.
Nicholas Mar 2015
My poisonous love - A poetic soul
The modification of puckish heart- A cold - blooded bowl
full of your deviant love
stirred with the taste of your strawberry lips , I howl

Real night comes along midnight tranquility
I hear the echoes of yous, Oh cold - Breeze
drives me to your enthral heart
making me lost inside you; 'bout your spellbind heat...
.. resided to your deepen love belonged to mine
With night, you undress your flowery spirit for me, A sly
I rolled up the whole drooling persona of yours with... in the blanket
like a heart seems to be hooked up with its every salacious beat,
~ Oh My French romance & your Italian love so Italic ~

Habibi, I sing you a lullaby
Like a God blessing the whole heart, deeply
The game's made to be over, but not my love, sweetly
Sanorita, Maria, Bri-bee, hey, Nina bonita, oh honey-bee
whatever your name is; wherever you reside to, my spirit needs you completely.
Sam Bowden Sep 2017
This is a thoroughly post-modern phenomenon.

[Breathe, don't be nervous. It's fine. Wallah, you're not doing anything wrong.]

Digitally arranged meetings with ostensible strangers yet with more familiarity than our ancestors could imagine.
An arranged meeting,
a warm greeting,
a sensing,
a feeling.

“Are you Sami?”
“I am,” as I posture for a hug.

[She’s actually more beautiful than I expected. Her ample curls smell like conditioner and sunshine.]

“So you’re Kuwaiti?"
"Yea, I moved here when I was 18, to Kansas of all places."
"To be honest, I had to look up the emoji flag from your profile. My Muslim WhatsApp group helped me out.”
“Oh, okay. So you’re Muslim?”
“Yea, I was raised Muslim; my mom married a Kuwaiti in the 80s, blah blah blah.”
“What? Your mom lived in Kuwait?”
“Yea, kinda crazy, I know, but it’s a small world.”

[Small worlds make the gaps between souls smaller.
Who knew such a small place could leave such a big impact on so many lives?
Certainly neither of us.
Serendipity?
Allah y3alam.]  

“Why do lesbians discriminate against bisexuals? You’d think of all people, they wouldn’t be so judgmental.”
“You’d think, but you’d be wrong. It’s like we have a plague.” Her voice goes on, but my mind drifts off.

[Tortoise-shell glasses, beautiful lashes, manicured eyebrows that frame flickering dark eyes, encased in a forest of curls, legging laced thighs, oh my. ::Deepsigh. Pay attention to what she’s saying! Oh my, she’s my type. This is bad. No, no, hamdilah, this is good.]

“Do you want another round?” the bar keep’s inquiry snaps me back to reality. I interrupt to suggest a change of location. [Perhaps something less commercial, less public, less straight, more private, and more intimate.]
“It’s only a short walk.”
“Yea, let’s do it.”

[By short walk, I mean three doors down from the bar. The perks of suggesting the venue.]

“Shoes off?”
“Yea, it’s habit, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”

She sits, crosses her long legs, and gives me this look. My heart flutters; I remember my manners:
“Can I make you a drink? What’s your poison? Gin or *****?”
I mix our drinks and think:
[She must like me.
This is good.
I’m glad we did this digital dance to find romance.
What a treasure, finding this post-modern habibi.
Alhamdulilah,
Lucky me.]
Brycical Nov 2014
May you rest well & tango with the crimson leaves aglow with whimsical love living in their veins vivaciously while the effervescent vicarious vespers of air spirits lift and play oboe tones atop the glorious ruby mountain in the kiss of dusk.

Also i love you dear, sweet honey cinnamon habibi queen goddess being.
Chloë Fuller Jun 2015
Coming off the unbearably sweet high of our Nation's proud capital.
I salute you.
For bright mornings with fruit smoothies made so masterfully.
Afternoons of stasis.
Of quick showers and quick words on a condensed second floor.
Straight intelligence and legitimate knowledge.
Stories of brothers pranking in Palestine.
"Can I have some?" asked so coyly when candy is available for adults.
Thick hookah smoke burning my lungs and sapphire blues eyes.
Old nicknames. Flying off the tongue like song lyrics we all know.
Unfamiliar places, and familiar places.
Habibi. As-salamu alaykum. Words my cerebrum forgot but heart did not.
"Do you want coffee?" "Come here." "Kiss me."
Your smile. Your home. Your hands. Your eyes.
Nostalgia over taking our souls like baby pictures.
I wish it could've lasted forever.
But nothing does.
And that's good, right?
Too much of a good thing makes us greedy.
What's beautiful
about our
relationship,
is that we're
just
friends,
and I'm
fine with
that,
like even though
I'm not getting
everything
I want
I'm
ok.
I'm just happy
to be in
her life
at all.
hazem al jaber Jan 2017
Sweet bird mine...

i wish i were a bird...
to fly so high there...
til i get your way ...
your window ...
to stay there...
to sing every morning a sweet whispers...
and to say ...
good morning my sweet lovely bird...

come to me habibi...
come lets be together...
come lets make love ..
sweet love in this morning...
while we are into our bed,,,
diving into each others..
dancing through our minds ..

come sweetheart..
i smell you now...
lets make love...
let's talk about me and you...
let's talk about feelings...
about our needs and desires ..
and let's make it now ...
as our souls needs...
as we did there...
there where we used to meet...

Ohhh ...
sorry sweetheart ...
it's not just a ***..
it's just a feelings ...
as it's love too...
this love which we both feel ...

sweet bird mine...
sing your whispers to me ...
as your needs ...
as your thirst ...
as your thought about me..
as you run into my mind...
and as i need you ..
do you mind...
i'm ready if you don't...

sweet bird mine...
lets start now ...
the madness of love...
our love...
good morning my sweet bird ...


hazem al..
Gr8Ryzyngz Jul 2018
Heart, body,mind, soul and spirit
Was so naked to you
So inviting so open
So innocent so pure
So willing to love
So honestly forever
So only true, to only You!
L A Lamb Sep 2014
Writing Prompt: July 20th 2014

4 août 2014
  

Write starting with this line for Yeats: "Now all the truth is out.."

Now all the truth is out.. and he knows. I haven’t told him, but such truth cannot be concealed. It’s too real, like a baby discovering its ability to bleed and heal. It’s too real, secreting from my adrenal glads, quivering my hands, my heart punching against my truth. It’s too true, like it was planned, a surprise party for me where I return home and am unexpectedly greeted by love.

The truth is out, but it was never really hidden, I just didn’t find out until now. It was not a secret, and nothing was omitted, but I hadn’t known how committed I was until I felt I would die if I wasn’t. My love, surging, forceful, moving as the sea–moving me–we are in the age of Pisces indeed, and he is my divine intervention without the lies of religion. My prophet, my prince, is it too soon to say I love you? Is it too soon to say I want to?

The truth is out: there exists an abundance of Sams and Bobbys and Rachels and they are all the same, but the man I call Habibi is as unique as his name.
love vulnerability feminism yeats divine universe l'amour
My ear
is always
here
if you need to
talk,
my shoulder
is always
here
if you need to
cry,
my heart
is always
here
if you need to
love.
Queen - Love Of My Life
Dear Fire,
and as I think of you,
I think of how much my heart is yearning.
I know that you are miles away,
but in my heart,
there lies a valley of you and your memories that no can reach.
I hear strange music in my ears as I remember the way you whisper my name and as you hold my hands to a land of mountains and breezes where only you and I can reside.
Habibi, let the words reign and the thrones shower with rain as the world remembers the love story of the fire and water.
carm Dec 2016
its been a while,
and my dear one, you're one of the very few who actually know about the existence of this.
i would love to thank you for loving me,
quite unconditionally and teaching me about what love can and cannot do.
i truly am over the love we had,
i tumbled into things i never thought i could achieve.
ive met wonderful people and achieved great heights of intellectual conversations i thought i've lost.
i gained back the edges, cutting through the desolate landscape of the world that i use to feel apathy towards.
these people ive met along the way shaped me into who am i, and made me clear of purpose.

i have to write in order to let myself remember in the future,
this was what i had.

to a,
you were something more of an infatuation and quicksand of self destruction.
i met you when i fell off the ledge of a relationship that turned out to be emotionally abusive for both ends.
shattered expectations and broken visions,
i thought i deserve the worst for inflicting pain upon others.
hence i was attracted to non-committal things like plastic cutleries, paper cups, napkins
and you.
where you use and trash.
you pulled my heartstrings and made me anxious, as i was also doing the same to you, i assume
with unreplied texts and flirty converses.
alcohol filled nights,
and those nights where your mouth meets the softest part of me,
where i give in to the pleasure of an illusion of being loved.
this did not last long,
i was too afraid, like a deer in the headlights.
fight or flight, of which i did both, fighting off my feelings and flight as you were using me as i was  you.

to k,
i wish you didnt have to leave,
much as i hated the british accent,
i definitely did not hate you.
i truly wish id spent more time with you
that evening at an empty reggae bar,
grinding and making moves on each other was far from being enough.
i want to continue laughing at you for being a hairy gorilla,
getting distracted by changkat and all the sober drinks we had.
it made the night even more real,
that we did not need substance to know that we were attracted.
and you stopped when i said no.
i think i fell a little then.
that other evening where we stayed in because it rained.
you didnt murmur sweet nothings,
you made sure i liked everything instead,
asking if i was comfortable, slowly tracing fingers and tongue upon my skin,
then setting ablaze a wildfire which left both of us slick with sweat.
all the ****** fluids weren't in vain,
trickling and forming a puddle of complicated emotions i cannot name and fathom.
both nights with neon lights in our eyes,
we could only see each other.
in broad day,
i was your lover, the one you want to hug and carry and give all attention to.
aye habibi,
if and only if.
i was truly grateful for what we had.

to l,
i met you during the brink of one of your hardest time.
i thought i wouldnt have a chance,
and i didnt know i could like someone of my gender this much, yet.
i love how you act,
and your certainty, and honesty.
i have to be honest, and say i dont know how i feel yet,
i feel unprepared, but i want you,
that i know for certain.
i like you, your humor,
your chipmunk cheeks
you and ice cream.
you're a broad daydream and somewhat of a special snowflake i want to appreciate the beauty of.
give me some time will ya.
Badshah Khan Feb 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 11

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

Ya habibi , eindama ‘aqra shiftik.
‘Astatie ‘an ‘akhbar milyun qisat , bal ‘udris majmueatan min Al’kutb.

Al’maerifat , ma ‘aseaa ‘iilayh , laysat min Al’kutub,
Lkn, ‘aseaa min Hakimat Al’Nabilat.

Daeuna najlus maeaan waltahaduth , Ya min Al’Nubla’
Baynama tatahadath , daeni ‘alsaq wajhak la’uktusab maelumati.

li’anak ‘ant ‘ahbati! ‘Ant li’Mehbubi!

Oh my beloved, when I read your lips.
I can tell a million stories, rather I study a bunch of books.

Knowledge, what I am seeking, is not from the books,
But, I seek from your noble wisdom.

let’s sit together and talk, oh the noble one,
While you talk, let me glaze Your face to gain my knowledge.

As, you are my loved one! You are my beloved!

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Badshah Khan Feb 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 14

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

Fi zulmat qatimat alruwh,

Du’i almaryiy yuadiy hatmana ‘iilaa mashhad jamil,

Baynama ‘ana ‘ashtaeilu binafsi bshd,

Fi zalamik al’abdii ‘me altahmil sabri!

Ya Habibi!

In Your grim darkness Soul,

My visible light inevitably ensues a lovely scene,

While I am furiously blazing myself,

In your eternal darkness’ with my patience endurance!

Oh My Beloved!

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT – BK 2018
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Badshah Khan Feb 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 13

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem.

Wala ‘ana saeadatan Wala ‘ana hazin,

Wala ‘ana Al’hayat, Wala ‘ana Al’mawt,

Eindama tatahidu, ‘ant taerif ma ‘ana,

Eindama tatahidu, sataerif min ‘ana,

**** hunak ‘qbul ****’

Al’sabab Al’wahid, ‘Ana mawjud tawal hdha alwaqt,

Ruwhiun, aindamajat fi habik lil’abd,

Ah Yah Hubun! Yah Habibi!

Nor’ I am happiness, nor’ I am sad,

Nor’ I am life, nor’ I am death,

When you unite, You will know who I am!

I was been there’ before you were,

Only reason, I existed this long,

My soul, merged in your Love forever!

Oh my loved One! Oh my Beloved!

Allah Khair…..

Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem.

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Gr8Ryzyngz Jul 2018
Reigned through much
Together and apart
Sure losing cool points fo dis shyt
Trying to be there be down
For one good reasons to cause
Dedicating dedications
Corny **** like, Assalam Zouj
Just hit you to say
Miss you, can't stop thinking of you
Beloved Only One For You
Is ME and ME for You
Mek mi tel yuh dis straight
Patience ah di virtuous zhe
Not just inside your brain
Eviction from mental beds
Can't get thiz orchirozez
Natural smelling tasteful visions
Out your clothes, sheets,
Out your muthafauqin head
Gibraltaz rockz stay cool
Hottest days of summer
Eight seasonings love
Same emotions turned feelingz
My ***** blezz all da way up
Four Four!Neva Eatin Soggy Waffles
Double up when you leggo
My egg-go
Wack silly **** like dat
WE dying to death laughing
Gems cracking da *** up
On some real **** though
I'm grateful all in all
You, is and always will simply B-U
Nam Habibi! Walaikum Assalam!
What can Da Goddezz do you for
Mi amore y Corazon
Kyaf yumkinuni khidmatuk???

— The End —