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"mohammad" poems
I used to hate your healthy avocados...until I had one Not that your coffee tasted superior to my tea But what's taste when you season mine with gun powder? Yes, In case you did not detect There is a lot of hate in this one Call me aggressive and spiteful Whilst holding your rifle They say hate begets hate begets hate begets hate So for you to understand I put aside my ignorance and try to walk in your shoes OK, let's start: A lot of trees Beautiful sky, delightful breeze A rich land where tenants are a many and they shun the proprietor I know I promised to be nice But let's face it for that white picket fence, someone had to pay the price. Start again: Sunny coasts Bacon, eggs on toast Walk the dog in the park, life is not all that hectic here. To make it clear, running out of coffee is my basic fear. Flat stomachs In fact, six packs! Cupboard full of knick-knacks and plenty of time to kick back and relax Never-ending supply of niceties Calm waters Long walks along the harbor and perhaps a tall pint of lager at the pub Throw some juicy ones on the barbie mate! Who cares if 6.2 mil in Somalia are starving mate? You say to me: "survival of the fittest, Darwin mate" "It's so difficult to fit in" I say; so tiring MATE Did I say that right? I'm Mohammad, as James in a play called "Aussie Catch Up" and I don't know how to play that part What else can I say? they gave me a voice (although in English) between the self deprecating migrant and the middle eastern rag head, the gave me a choice And by the way my boss tried to anglicize my name Said Sebastian had a nice ‘ring’ to it Well go ahead, march to your colonial tune and have me sing to it Oh healthy avocados, you're too ripe for my liking Maybe I'm just used to a bit of rawness in my diet To be honest I have a heavy heart, a dark one Maybe to reconcile, you should take a step a very very very very very very long one
0
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
Healthy Avocados
I used to hate your healthy avocados...until I had one Not that your coffee tasted superior to my tea But what's taste when you season mine with gun powder? Yes, In case you did not detect There is a lot of hate in this one Call me aggressive and spiteful Whilst holding your rifle They say hate begets hate begets hate begets hate So for you to understand I put aside my ignorance and try to walk in your shoes OK, let's start: A lot of trees Beautiful sky, delightful breeze A rich land where tenants are a many and they shun the proprietor I know I promised to be nice But let's face it for that white picket fence, someone had to pay the price. Start again: Sunny coasts Bacon, eggs on toast Walk the dog in the park, life is not all that hectic here. To make it clear, running out of coffee is my basic fear. Flat stomachs In fact, six packs! Cupboard full of knick-knacks and plenty of time to kick back and relax Never-ending supply of niceties Calm waters Long walks along the harbor and perhaps a tall pint of lager at the pub Throw some juicy ones on the barbie mate! Who cares if 6.2 mil in Somalia are starving mate? You say to me: "survival of the fittest, Darwin mate" "It's so difficult to fit in" I say; so tiring MATE Did I say that right? I'm Mohammad, as James in a play called "Aussie Catch Up" and I don't know how to play that part What else can I say? they gave me a voice (although in English) between the self deprecating migrant and the middle eastern rag head, the gave me a choice And by the way my boss tried to anglicize my name Said Sebastian had a nice ‘ring’ to it Well go ahead, march to your colonial tune and have me sing to it Oh healthy avocados, you're too ripe for my liking Maybe I'm just used to a bit of rawness in my diet To be honest I have a heavy heart, a dark one Maybe to reconcile, you should take a step a very very very very very very long one
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48
Mother superior had dropped the gun, Seeing the victim was her very own son. There a saint was made to run Drowned before the rising sun. Messiah born on the first day of June, Posing as a religious boon. Preaching that the end is soon, All in a tone resembling Sinatra’s croon. Superiority held in the form of prayer, Faith maintained at the behest of a dare. Professor Lodz has lost his bear. The Omega deemed this loss as fair. Tammuz is smoking all the vegetation Asherah has stopped all gestation, Coming from a fit of ************ Working on a new form of taxation. Jesus just took one huge dumb, In the sink after snorting a quick bump. The man had reached quite the slump. Catching HPV from Fergies’s **** Mohammad is eating all the pork. Using hands, forgetting the fork. ******* chicks, with all kinds of torque, Misinterpreting the path of a wayward stork. Dinning on delicious swine. And the finest forms of delicate wine. Prophets of the world align. And drink from the deceased Christopher Reeve’s spine.
0
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
Impeded By The Reasonable
*to further my point, as an eager reader in a catholic school, reading about the gnostic heretics, wondering with my theology tutor upon the question asked: don't you think the gnostic heretics influenced mohammad on the sly? i mean, they too believed a phantom walked among men, and a phantom was crucified?* my confirmation didn't take place in a cathedral, as was due course for all of us in being schooled, by a bishop in brentwood cathedral, i opted out... my confirmation came in a russian orthodox cathedral, in st. petersburg, when i watched people standing for a scrap of iconoclasm, with the priest mumbling toward a golden altar, as typical in the tradition, buttocks towards the people or as in the western tradition reciting in latin, before the nationalists came and spoke the gospel in each designated tongue so people understood, a bit like having your back turned against the people - speaking in latin - and when i sat i the church to listen to the choir singing, some lesser ecclesiastical prompted me to stand up, and pay respect to the golden altar... he told me to stand up! what cheek... what barbarism... only in russia... i had to stop being bewildered by the beauty of song and listen to a priest knock-down-ginger on a palette of gold... THEN i was confirmed... donkey's ******** to this **** i'm leaving! mind the fact that i've seen the greatest degradation of mysticism take place... the tetragrammaton was being defiled all along... in catholic bureaucracy it has been there all along, the idiots reminded me of it... you're born: first name, baptismal name, surname... you're educated: confirmation name... that takes four spaces of consideration... so by catholic definition of sharpening pencils, folding pieces of paper, filing the folded pieces of paper, bending paper-clips i'm god... but only in writing... first name, baptismal name, confirmation name, surname... a bit like a clone... a clone indeed in writing... same d.n.a., same bone mandibles of the jaw... but experience-wise... un-original to the **** not even a clone... not able to experience major historical figures... a soul in a twin body by itself... a twin without twinning, segregated by ulterior if not auxiliary motives... clone on paper... clone by experience? i don't think so... impossible... too many inter-actants along the way can't possibly replicate thinking in a clone... different mr. john smith... NEXT!
0
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
"confirmation" of a "catholic" in a russian orthodox church
*to further my point, as an eager reader in a catholic school, reading about the gnostic heretics, wondering with my theology tutor upon the question asked: don't you think the gnostic heretics influenced mohammad on the sly? i mean, they too believed a phantom walked among men, and a phantom was crucified?* my confirmation didn't take place in a cathedral, as was due course for all of us in being schooled, by a bishop in brentwood cathedral, i opted out... my confirmation came in a russian orthodox cathedral, in st. petersburg, when i watched people standing for a scrap of iconoclasm, with the priest mumbling toward a golden altar, as typical in the tradition, buttocks towards the people or as in the western tradition reciting in latin, before the nationalists came and spoke the gospel in each designated tongue so people understood, a bit like having your back turned against the people - speaking in latin - and when i sat i the church to listen to the choir singing, some lesser ecclesiastical prompted me to stand up, and pay respect to the golden altar... he told me to stand up! what cheek... what barbarism... only in russia... i had to stop being bewildered by the beauty of song and listen to a priest knock-down-ginger on a palette of gold... THEN i was confirmed... donkey's ******** to this **** i'm leaving! mind the fact that i've seen the greatest degradation of mysticism take place... the tetragrammaton was being defiled all along... in catholic bureaucracy it has been there all along, the idiots reminded me of it... you're born: first name, baptismal name, surname... you're educated: confirmation name... that takes four spaces of consideration... so by catholic definition of sharpening pencils, folding pieces of paper, filing the folded pieces of paper, bending paper-clips i'm god... but only in writing... first name, baptismal name, confirmation name, surname... a bit like a clone... a clone indeed in writing... same d.n.a., same bone mandibles of the jaw... but experience-wise... un-original to the **** not even a clone... not able to experience major historical figures... a soul in a twin body by itself... a twin without twinning, segregated by ulterior if not auxiliary motives... clone on paper... clone by experience? i don't think so... impossible... too many inter-actants along the way can't possibly replicate thinking in a clone... different mr. john smith... NEXT!
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60
''A few words of my soul to my heart'' O' Jamil what you seek is a sea of love and not tiny streams Waves of which will carry you to mystic craved dreams You will need the light of Shams⒈, a heart of Rumi⒉ the great And eyes of Iqbal⒊ to explore the love of divine that await O' Jamil be prepared to sink deep below in waters of love There is no reverting back thereafter to the world above You will fade away as small particles in this sacred sea Only then you will be intoxicated with essence of thee ✑ Notes:- ⒈ Shams, Shams-e-Tabrizi or Shams Al-Din Mohammad was a Iranian Sufi, mystic born in the city of Tabriz in Iranian Azerbaijan. ⒉ Jalal Ad-Din Muḥammad Balkhi also known as Jalal Ad-Din Muḥammad Rumi and popularly known as Mowlana but known to the English-speaking world simply as Rumi, he was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic. ⒊ Sir Muhammad Iqbal was a Persian and Urdu poet of Pakistan, philosopher and a politician who had great visions for humanity. ✒ ℐamil Hussain
0
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
S e a of L o v e ≋
you see bob delahunty, one da7y developed this website, where he takes people on quests to find out whether or not really exists, and first stop was jerusealum, where he spoke to a rabbi, and bob asked the question does GOD exist, and the rabbi said, i can be your saviour where whenever you need any answers, i can show you, ok, after that, bob went to the BUDDHIST temple in taibet, and the buddhist nuns said, god is just a couple of easy answers, we need people to understand that the answer is to mend every blade of grass and bob left thinking mmmmm interesting, and the muslims said, god, there is no god, but there is mohammad, and he is the same, as this GOD, and bob went away singing god is the devil and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob GOD, THE DEVIL, ANNNND BOB the next part of bobs quest was going over to the catholic church and after 12 minutes of hearing the boring catholic morals bob went over to the priest, how many children have you ****** today, and priest got offended in what bob asked, and through bob outside, with the tune going, god is the devil and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB bob was kicked out of every religious place in the world, so he decided to gather some religious freaks, to form his own religion going out on the underground to meet different religious people on the street, first was wendy sweeeeet lips who was a ****** by night nun and helper of the poor by day, and she was nice to bob, ands bob said, i can get a decent **** out of this pretty lady, time and time again and when the nun was asked to leave the catholic church despite her keeping the ****** bit to herself, she decided to join BOB,  religion by a man named bob, bob had this philosophy, no ugly wannabes, just **** legs and pretty faces bob asked the hooker-nun, do you think GOD exists, and they said, we don’t hate any religion, but, we hate catholics, because, their morals are against our good work here, we don’t have a GOD, policy here, we are the face of the devil, but the devil brings happiness, you know to angry *** crazed men, aren’t they needed to wipe off the angry look, and bob went away, who cares, and sang his song god is the devil, and the devil is bob god is the devil, and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob GOD THE DEVIL, WHO IS BOB and bob said, who cares if i’m the devil i don’t look at the symbol of jesus nailed to a cross being a symbol of peace jesus exixts, but the way he is killed is the REAL DEVIL BECAUSE, all together now god is the devil, and the devil is bob god is the devil, and the devil is bob god is the devil, and the devil is bob GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB
0
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
god and the devil who is bob
you see bob delahunty, one da7y developed this website, where he takes people on quests to find out whether or not really exists, and first stop was jerusealum, where he spoke to a rabbi, and bob asked the question does GOD exist, and the rabbi said, i can be your saviour where whenever you need any answers, i can show you, ok, after that, bob went to the BUDDHIST temple in taibet, and the buddhist nuns said, god is just a couple of easy answers, we need people to understand that the answer is to mend every blade of grass and bob left thinking mmmmm interesting, and the muslims said, god, there is no god, but there is mohammad, and he is the same, as this GOD, and bob went away singing god is the devil and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob GOD, THE DEVIL, ANNNND BOB the next part of bobs quest was going over to the catholic church and after 12 minutes of hearing the boring catholic morals bob went over to the priest, how many children have you ****** today, and priest got offended in what bob asked, and through bob outside, with the tune going, god is the devil and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB bob was kicked out of every religious place in the world, so he decided to gather some religious freaks, to form his own religion going out on the underground to meet different religious people on the street, first was wendy sweeeeet lips who was a ****** by night nun and helper of the poor by day, and she was nice to bob, ands bob said, i can get a decent **** out of this pretty lady, time and time again and when the nun was asked to leave the catholic church despite her keeping the ****** bit to herself, she decided to join BOB,  religion by a man named bob, bob had this philosophy, no ugly wannabes, just **** legs and pretty faces bob asked the hooker-nun, do you think GOD exists, and they said, we don’t hate any religion, but, we hate catholics, because, their morals are against our good work here, we don’t have a GOD, policy here, we are the face of the devil, but the devil brings happiness, you know to angry *** crazed men, aren’t they needed to wipe off the angry look, and bob went away, who cares, and sang his song god is the devil, and the devil is bob god is the devil, and the devil is bob god is the devil and the devil is bob GOD THE DEVIL, WHO IS BOB and bob said, who cares if i’m the devil i don’t look at the symbol of jesus nailed to a cross being a symbol of peace jesus exixts, but the way he is killed is the REAL DEVIL BECAUSE, all together now god is the devil, and the devil is bob god is the devil, and the devil is bob god is the devil, and the devil is bob GOD, THE DEVIL, AND BOB
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38
We've heard from Abraham, Jesus, Mohammad and Selassie; God! If we'd heard a humble apology For the pre-emptive strike In Eden, way back then, It would have saved us all A lot of grief.
0
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
A Humble Apology
Pakistani Mohammad Aamer, Much too young to buy his own beer,    But his bowling is ace,    He got in Ponting's face, Other batsmen are living in fear. Pakistani Afridi is mad, Though he is not inherently bad,    But he did chew a ball,    Which about says it all, But watching him play makes me glad. Look, Shahid Afridi is crazy, Even though he appears quite lazy,    He wants to be strong,    But it turns out all wrong, It's because his brain is all hazy. I know little of Umar Amin, My knowledge of him is too thin,   Does he bat left or right,   Will he give Oz a fright, Or meekly get out once he's in? Then Umar Akmal will stride out, He's tiny but he gives it some clout,    An average of fifty,    Looks pretty **** nifty, From behind him, the crowd they will shout.
0
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 7:02 PM UTC
Pakistani Package
Thank you , for being who you are Thank you , for fighting with so meanin' way Thank you , for showin' me what box means Thank you , for revealin' your strength in the boxing ring Thank you , for makin' me stronger Thank you , for your way of speakin' Thank you , for refusing to participate to killing innocent people Thank you , for being so patient in the prison Thank you , for not lettin' everything go with the the 3yrs deadlines Thak you , for teaching me what going on means RIP for this saddest day ever Thank you for this unforgettable day ever 03-jun-2016 . . .
0
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 12:03 PM UTC
∞ RIP ∞ Mohammad Ali ∞ Cassius Clay ∞
A  fool  was thinking  to add  agriculture to  physiology in text  book. He  may  be the  gene of  late king  Mohammad  Bin  Toglak of    India. A brainy was thinking to take ice-hills of North Pole to place into a coastal desert near a growing city. He may be the gene of late king Mohammad Bin Toglak of India.
0
Jan 17, 2019
Jan 17, 2019 at 11:02 AM UTC
Text Book
My past time is Warhammer 40k Collected 12 separate army ranging from 10,000 point to couple hundred. My personal faction is craft world Eldar, Since they are space elves of the dying race, Prideful, arrogant, know it all, psyker gifted, prudes of 41 millienium. Play with twelve Wraith Knights, And earning me as "That Guy," As known as cheesy player, Or just a solid Gould cheese. I am inspired by Marcus Aurelius Known as the philosophical emperor, Also known as the last true good emperor of Rome, Loved by many by the empire, My favorite quote by him "Accept the things fate binds you, And love the people whom fate brings you together, But do so with all your heart!" I am a Capricorn, Driven by amethyst gem stones, Or a pure ruby so they say! I have not had the same gravitational pull like Joan Of Arc, Nor have I become a champion like Mohammad Ali, Or fought for civil liberty like Martin Luther King, Or earned the legacy likes of Humphrey Bogart, But I would do my best to carry even ounce of their torch of greatness.
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
Little Bit of Me
Something terrible has happened to the entire world, we've lost Christopher Lee. He was Count Dracula and he was also Saruman in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. He starred as Francisco Scaramanga in a James Bond film and as Lord Summerisle in The Wicker Man. He believed that his greatest performance was as Mohammad Ali Jinnah, the founder of modern Pakistan. He starred in two Star Wars movies as Count Dooku. He was a talented actor, a singer and an author too. Sadly, this fantastic thespian has died at the age of ninety-three. People are shedding tears as we say goodbye to Christopher Lee.
0
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
Christopher Lee
I say I'm a Muslim, but I can't tell anymore. I can't tell from what goes in my mouth, what comes out and hits you on the cheek worse than a slap, harder than a mere insult. I'm outraged, but what reason do I have? On the outside I could be anyone, and I usually am. Sometimes I am Puerto Rican, Lebanese, or Black-- a child asked me once, and I just smiled back. How sweet would it be to take every crayon from the box, even now that the numbers have multiplied and what was once simple 8, 12, 24, 36, has exploded into a million colors with a million names, to crush them into bitty pieces and swirl the mixture with water; make it all into One. so that if we hate another (what other?) we just hate ourselves. I say I'm a Muslim, and I know I am because when I give up all my frustrations and my toddler tantrums, and I even give up yoga, or rather it gives me up, thankfully so, when I injure my back: I'm grateful for that. What a knowing presence God is to take away that which harms and restore that which fulfills. But even to those who are still hurting (and I often am) there are these small remembrances that come between this onset of tears and the next. Whether the sun peers through the dusty blinds, the ones you need to clean again--so soon, and you see the light stream through, faintly at first, until you are forced to open your eyes, to remove yourself from the hate you've stewed in: how simple is that? I say I'm a Muslim, and it's a choice I make every day or avoid until the next day, even though that day may not be easily given. And I forget that. But when I see life slip away from young lives, old lives, lives not yet born then I have to remember that I do not have the answers, and every time I try to be dictator of my destiny I fail miserably, miserably, miserably. And now that I wrote this poem and I felt myself think, no, truly feel for the first time in a week, that my robotic expression has melted into a frown that stands a chance at becoming a smile. Now that I am human I am a Muslim. Not perfectly so, but decidedly so. (In memory Deah Shaddy Barakat, Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha, and Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha)
0
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
when there's nothing to say (there's something)
I say I'm a Muslim, but I can't tell anymore. I can't tell from what goes in my mouth, what comes out and hits you on the cheek worse than a slap, harder than a mere insult. I'm outraged, but what reason do I have? On the outside I could be anyone, and I usually am. Sometimes I am Puerto Rican, Lebanese, or Black-- a child asked me once, and I just smiled back. How sweet would it be to take every crayon from the box, even now that the numbers have multiplied and what was once simple 8, 12, 24, 36, has exploded into a million colors with a million names, to crush them into bitty pieces and swirl the mixture with water; make it all into One. so that if we hate another (what other?) we just hate ourselves. I say I'm a Muslim, and I know I am because when I give up all my frustrations and my toddler tantrums, and I even give up yoga, or rather it gives me up, thankfully so, when I injure my back: I'm grateful for that. What a knowing presence God is to take away that which harms and restore that which fulfills. But even to those who are still hurting (and I often am) there are these small remembrances that come between this onset of tears and the next. Whether the sun peers through the dusty blinds, the ones you need to clean again--so soon, and you see the light stream through, faintly at first, until you are forced to open your eyes, to remove yourself from the hate you've stewed in: how simple is that? I say I'm a Muslim, and it's a choice I make every day or avoid until the next day, even though that day may not be easily given. And I forget that. But when I see life slip away from young lives, old lives, lives not yet born then I have to remember that I do not have the answers, and every time I try to be dictator of my destiny I fail miserably, miserably, miserably. And now that I wrote this poem and I felt myself think, no, truly feel for the first time in a week, that my robotic expression has melted into a frown that stands a chance at becoming a smile. Now that I am human I am a Muslim. Not perfectly so, but decidedly so. (In memory Deah Shaddy Barakat, Yusor Mohammad Abu-Salha, and Razan Mohammad Abu-Salha)
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52
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
0
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
Trump is no more justice than Mohammad
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
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67
Hegel’s Hero in Dream Hegel’s Hero appeared with video of heroes To teach me Ideas and dialectics in society; I saw there, Lions and Foxes of Machiavelli Fighting , growling , springing from bushes. Aimless Dame Fortune moves in history past Politics of India, snowy, foggy, and shadowy! Shivering men squat passive keeping “ID card” As Greek slaves, before the Democratic Lords. General Will ,as Rousseau says ,forms society, Nation, Governments based on Ideas extant. Lords, and the wealthy ruled rudely the ruled In the past, as history moved as cruelly as fast. God’s own Universe sans universal concept On Peace; builds walls around each groups. Religions fail to link the parted and parched People who worship vicious Cain and Mammon . Marx, Engels , and Mao came with the legions Stumbled, humbled and stifled by the Mammons. Buddha, Christ and the Prophet Mohammad Told of Love, Grace, Patience and of Pardon My Lord, why, we fail to wipe tears and fears? “Sambhavami yuge yuge” says hazy, Hegel fades. parithranaya sadhunam/ vinasaya cha dushkritham/ dharmmasamsthapanardhaya/sambhavami yuge yuge. When in India can we expect such a Hero:Kalki,in Kali? To be trapped, jailed as terrorist protestant, really!
0
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Hegel's Hero in Dream
so I guess this is it, the summit not very impressing. I thought at the least I'd see over the tops of skies you should know I hid cigarette butts under the stone patio off the guest wing. now I wish I could just lay on those rocks or at the base of your bed, vanity wore us down like shotgun rounds in the face of our masquerade ballet. I drank the bloods from your fountains of paradise: 19, 20, 21, 22, and 23 then found you in our bed with your fingers in your *** to make sure we'd fit together more aptly, and now my skin burns in its own rash of obsessive unforgetfulness, I make my own ******* future with you innit, ***** or no ***** I know nectars better than the Georgians worship better than Mohammad skin better than Buffalo Bill and your name better than my own Penguin.
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Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
(Penguin) 1:1:16
Semisynthetic illumination faded over the land. The dunes sighed; women and children (wide-eyed) emerged from humble homes, hands in the air, guns in their backs. Still on hands and knees, as if in prayer, Ahmed’s body slumped forward, his beard and robes leaving tracks in the sand. Hand-rolled cigarettes glowed over Mona Lisa soldier-sniggers; village men, lined up like sheep near the fence were being stripped of their clothes— they shivered in the face of death. Fadwa’s back door creaked open; two soldiers, high on poppies’ finest, tiptoed through desert darkness, fingers on triggers. Billy the Kid wasn’t named ‘Billy the Kid’ for no reason, “kicks like a mule”, so Uncle Mohammad had said; The first soldier was winded, the second not quite so lucky. Fadwa picked up the man’s rifle, popped the winded soldier in the face. Billy and Fadwa took the brunt of the bullets; the rest fled.
0
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 3:40 AM UTC
Uprising: A Journey - 3 (Go!)
IF I LOVE NOT, I HAVE NOTHING MATLOOB BOKHARI If I worship more than arch angel but don’t love I have nothing If I give all I have to the poor, but don’t love I have nothing If I have faith which moves mountains,but don’t love I have nothing If I give gold in alms as big as Ohad but don’t love I have nothing If I die moving around the arc of covenant, but don’t love I have nothing If I die fighting in the holy war, but don’t love I have nothing If I die and buried in the tomb of prophet but don’t love I have nothing If I get land larger than Solomon’s Kingdom,but don’t love I have nothing If I receive God’s healing power like Christ but don’t love I have nothing If I am given un paralleled patience like Ayub but don’t love I have nothing If make sacrifice like Ismael and Hussain but don’t love I have nothing If I am given the kingdom of the world, but don’t love I have nothing No matter what I have done, no matter what will I do Without wings of love, I cannot soar in the kingdom of God Natasha Nabokov: reading your poems, I am reminded of Tagore who is my first love Angela Davis :matloob, your work is so amazing! Laura Luce del:Hello Matloob Thanks., Its an amazing, understandable & great write. I hope you are blessed throughout the rest of yoir life. Never stop writing! ♡LLM Vincent Boykin: I admire your courage in writing about Love in a serious relationship with the spiritual. It's shows your heart and that you understand Love. Love is usually just some word in the cosmos. Love bonds everything in good. Love. Super Poem! It's how I took it. It made my day. Thank you. Demelia Denton: An amazing poem Matloob .... Enchanting ...beautifully worded Michele Vizzotti-White: I like the fast pace of it, but it still is rich in thought/words Fay Slimm: Ah - - how true are these words Mat. - love is all we need and nothing more. An inspiring read. Seyed Mohammad Reza Parhizgar : this is why you are called Matloob, but I have something better than love, and that's God.thanks dear friend I loved your poem. Sara Fielder: I agree, love should be the motivating factor in everything we think, do, and say. The world would be a better place if we all remembered that. Stephen Montgomery : My favorite line is: all I can sense the cogs turning in this sincere post which has come to an understanding; Love must be everything because love conflicts with nothing. Hold everything sacred and nothing suffers
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Untitled
IF I LOVE NOT, I HAVE NOTHING MATLOOB BOKHARI If I worship more than arch angel but don’t love I have nothing If I give all I have to the poor, but don’t love I have nothing If I have faith which moves mountains,but don’t love I have nothing If I give gold in alms as big as Ohad but don’t love I have nothing If I die moving around the arc of covenant, but don’t love I have nothing If I die fighting in the holy war, but don’t love I have nothing If I die and buried in the tomb of prophet but don’t love I have nothing If I get land larger than Solomon’s Kingdom,but don’t love I have nothing If I receive God’s healing power like Christ but don’t love I have nothing If I am given un paralleled patience like Ayub but don’t love I have nothing If make sacrifice like Ismael and Hussain but don’t love I have nothing If I am given the kingdom of the world, but don’t love I have nothing No matter what I have done, no matter what will I do Without wings of love, I cannot soar in the kingdom of God Natasha Nabokov: reading your poems, I am reminded of Tagore who is my first love Angela Davis :matloob, your work is so amazing! Laura Luce del:Hello Matloob Thanks., Its an amazing, understandable & great write. I hope you are blessed throughout the rest of yoir life. Never stop writing! ♡LLM Vincent Boykin: I admire your courage in writing about Love in a serious relationship with the spiritual. It's shows your heart and that you understand Love. Love is usually just some word in the cosmos. Love bonds everything in good. Love. Super Poem! It's how I took it. It made my day. Thank you. Demelia Denton: An amazing poem Matloob .... Enchanting ...beautifully worded Michele Vizzotti-White: I like the fast pace of it, but it still is rich in thought/words Fay Slimm: Ah - - how true are these words Mat. - love is all we need and nothing more. An inspiring read. Seyed Mohammad Reza Parhizgar : this is why you are called Matloob, but I have something better than love, and that's God.thanks dear friend I loved your poem. Sara Fielder: I agree, love should be the motivating factor in everything we think, do, and say. The world would be a better place if we all remembered that. Stephen Montgomery : My favorite line is: all I can sense the cogs turning in this sincere post which has come to an understanding; Love must be everything because love conflicts with nothing. Hold everything sacred and nothing suffers
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My wife, Karen, and I were watching the opening ceremony, soon, the lighting of the torch. It was a well-kept secret as to who would light the flame. When the spotlights came on, the arena went wild! Mohammad Ali! Holding the torch in his right-hand, his left, shaking from the Parkinsons. Karen and I both felt tears coming down our cheeks. Mr. Ali, that night you displayed the meaning of the word, "PRIDE!" "Rest in Peace", MISTER ALI. You ARE the fighter, you always claimed to be!" r.riddle 06-10-2016
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Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
ATLANTA -1996 OLYMPIC GAMES
My friends are my family. The are honest to me when I need to hear words I feel I cannot bear to hear. I am set strait and get back moving forward on my road.. Hearts feeling proud to see me succeed. Always warning me of obstacles ahead which I sometimes fail to heed. Telling me to stay out of self pity..!" Pushing me further up the ladder when I obtain frozen heals. Looking down the ladder, they are always there climbing ,with me close behind. Spirits cheering me on when I am doing well. Like Rocky's Coach after Rocky Became His Best Friend's lost soul's son's mentor. They yell the words that I truly needed to hear, after a knock out jab, from a glove, to get "Back up!" Always telling me "You are an attractive younger man" "Who needs to clear the mind that needs to stop thinking through ,'The Looking glass.." This "Dorthy Gale" still cries for my "Aunt Emmye." Because my friends love me for the person that I am. I return their acts and kind deeds (as they need me in their "Corner of Life's Ring...") I'm their "Rocky" Who cheers "Mohammad" to their victory in their corner of their ring. Now, together, a song in each one of our connected souls, our hearts do sing. "Forever through war, hunger,pain, , and ill health" "Through the easy times, wealthy moments, and easier moments, and blinding and shining victories of such..." "The need to exist "to and for each other..." "A well knit family of sisters and brothers."
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Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:24 AM UTC
Truer Friendship in Life
The chances of being a regular chap in education I have failed to avail, I have missed I must say But there was no sign in my life of any success Anything good would have been happened... Now a days, I am suffering with super frustration What really would I do in my future, All the potential of my learning & gaining To be a standalone fellow is going to be reduced one by one! No one is at my side and nothing productive happens around me... It’s quite dark everywhere, wall and wall so high I’m almost finished and it’s hard to capture The gone wind but I am trying my best to recover... To rediscover the gap I have created by myself I am super lonely in my way of life, perhaps I am cynic... And the people I am engaged with are not so helpful and friendly All the way they act so competitively, thinking of their own only... I am in vain my lord and I know not what’s in my store really... I wish If I could get any fair chance in my country! But my lord, there are so many unfair means in social or political dealings, It’s quite ridiculous and I realize it a way out system of our society... One major thing I feel inside that I must bring myself Out from the darkness now I am bearing with me The most lashing thing is the loneliness & friendless environment all around My parents are still alive but they can’t help me as I need... Then all I do have effectively is me only, my dear roadrunners   The growing myself in me whom I did never try to find I have no one for myself except me, I was blindfolded   I start now depending on myself, better late than never... All the dreams and high hopes will reduce to dust uselessly If I leave myself if I misunderstand myself, if I underestimate myself So many occasions I did the mistakes feeling helpless , Oh me...! But in the most next minute I get the power of myself in me to live like a man Critical reality has taught me to speak to myself, it’s a chance Like a human in the world full chances to live with rice & respect I am no more helpless for I am now with myself and precisely An invisible flutist is everywhere with me as well watching me ... © 2015 Mohammad Anwar Parvez Shishir
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Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
~Self Helplessness Re-edited~
The chances of being a regular chap in education I have failed to avail, I have missed I must say But there was no sign in my life of any success Anything good would have been happened... Now a days, I am suffering with super frustration What really would I do in my future, All the potential of my learning & gaining To be a standalone fellow is going to be reduced one by one! No one is at my side and nothing productive happens around me... It’s quite dark everywhere, wall and wall so high I’m almost finished and it’s hard to capture The gone wind but I am trying my best to recover... To rediscover the gap I have created by myself I am super lonely in my way of life, perhaps I am cynic... And the people I am engaged with are not so helpful and friendly All the way they act so competitively, thinking of their own only... I am in vain my lord and I know not what’s in my store really... I wish If I could get any fair chance in my country! But my lord, there are so many unfair means in social or political dealings, It’s quite ridiculous and I realize it a way out system of our society... One major thing I feel inside that I must bring myself Out from the darkness now I am bearing with me The most lashing thing is the loneliness & friendless environment all around My parents are still alive but they can’t help me as I need... Then all I do have effectively is me only, my dear roadrunners   The growing myself in me whom I did never try to find I have no one for myself except me, I was blindfolded   I start now depending on myself, better late than never... All the dreams and high hopes will reduce to dust uselessly If I leave myself if I misunderstand myself, if I underestimate myself So many occasions I did the mistakes feeling helpless , Oh me...! But in the most next minute I get the power of myself in me to live like a man Critical reality has taught me to speak to myself, it’s a chance Like a human in the world full chances to live with rice & respect I am no more helpless for I am now with myself and precisely An invisible flutist is everywhere with me as well watching me ... © 2015 Mohammad Anwar Parvez Shishir
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With the absence of Grace or transcended human morality there is silence so what do you believe when almighty Jupiter lays crucified in the caressing arms of Vishnu Christ bent broken over the knees of Mohammad what do you believe in Father? what do you believe in Mother? when Absalom ascends the throne and Daniel suffocates in the lion’s den what faith holds you speechless and chaste as the stories twist and burn to crash together on the endless palette of human belief the needle’s worn the groove too deep now the record won't play all we have to believe in is silence let the deity’s roll in celestial graves give me human interaction the touch of lover’s hand sacraments that bring more absolution than sorrowed sermons screaming out just to break that silence oh, la musique de nos collisions fabriquer laissent peu pour la l'âme à faux
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Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
Tangibles
"I [Name] take you, ____, To be my lawfully wedded husband, To have and to hold, from this day forward, For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, In sickness and in health, until death do us part.... I DO" We can now check off wedding from our to-do list And update all our status to married But what happens to the marriage ? Why does something that sound so free leaves one so trap I don't want to be together for my religion sake It was not Jesus or Mohammad that I married, no I married you I don't want to be together for our children sake I am unhappy and I know they are aware So what is with the masquerade? I want to be together for our love sake Because I have search the entire planet Yet I can't find another partner who is better than you sake For I complete you and you complete me sake We have an iron bond that can never be broken sake Babe keep your wedding, if you are not ready for our marriage Just for my peace of mind sake
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Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
Married Without a Marriage
ummmmmmmm he has battled so many times ummmmmmmm his religion and titles and illness ummmmmmm he was the greatest fighter that ever lived ummmmmmm in more ways than one ummmmmmm he used the catch phrase float like a butterfly sting like a bee ummmmmmm he lit the atlanta olympic flame when he was ummmmmmm let's just say he was a fighter ummmmmm he is holding the fight in the heavens ummmmmmm it surely took a long time for his illness to defeat him ummmmmm he will be given a nice new boxing ring in the clouds ummmmmm so his next earth body can perform the same miracles ummmmmm yeah he has parkinsons but he didn’t let it defeat him ummmmmmm he might be dead but not defeated ummmmmmm he might be dead but not defeated ummmmmmmm ummmmmmmm ummmmmmm RIP cassius marcekkus clay RIP MOHAMAD ALI ummmmmmm i hope you defeat many people in the afterlife so your next earth body can live on ummmmmmm ummmmmmm ummmmmm
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
buddhist chant for mohammad ali, i know he wasn't a buddhist but here is the chant anyway
He was the toughest fighter. In and out of the ring. He fought for his title and for his fight to stay alive. If I had to be In Ali's shoes I would appreciate the cost of a Hit. Especially if one landed me in "Life's Pit." Blocking the blows that hit not just my face However, also hitting my heart.... I can truly admire the man who made it as a boxer from his humble start. A family man. A believer in "equal" crowds.... His dying wish made me look back at a legend Feeling for him and his journey, quite proud. He was a great fighter in and out of the ring. Mohammad Ali...... I still hear your bells ring.
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Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
The Fighter Within