"muhammed" poems
Close your eyes and open your heart,
Can you hear the silence!
Can you see the darkness!
Be grateful for the little things you have in life,
For all our lives are full of bounties and blessings..
Mingling with other people from different backgrounds and Ethnicities inspired me and made me wondering in the deepest meanings of life
Allah created us for one aim which is to worship Him alone..
He empowered us with all the tools that would help us to achieve life's goal
The holy Quran will heal your heart and the sunnah of our prophet Muhammed PBUH will enlighten your path..
A letter to one's self..
Thank you is the least word I can utter to express my gratitude for you my lord
You created me out of love before I was nothing,
You gave me everything..
From the beauty to the health and wealth
The eyes, ears, hands, legs and heart :")
A muslim family that helped me through,
The Arabic language that allows me to enjoy Quran,
You made me walk through your path to discover your light
Thank you for the awakening moments you granted me
Thank you for the air I breath the beauty I see and the food I eat
Thank you for the birds and trees
For the water and leaves
For the seasons and planets
For the sun and the moon
The clouds and the sky
If I ever start I can never count all the blessings you granted me
It is really important to step back on your life and start thinking and Talking to your self
To give your soul the boost to continue this life
To empower your faith and renew your tawakul (reliance on Allah)
I felt the need to cry when I attended today's speech by one of the sisters
She spoke about how insan needs to always rely on his Lord
Yeah sometimes you really get confused in the realms of life and you forget all the bounties that you've been blessed with
Shaytan comes to you and start whispering that you always need more..
It's okay to always need more because Allah loves when his servants
pray to him and asks from him,
But this doesn't mean to forget all what you've been blessed with
It's really important to specify an hour each morning to reflect upon your life and to thank Allah for every single moment you have
Allah has created you out of love,
You are a unique version of your self
Nobody is completely like you
You are you and you should love yourself because Allah wants you to be like that..
All praise is to Allah!
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
For it is written to grant forgiveness
No matter difference or malfeasance
To never speak ill of one another
Or deny each other our subsistence
All men are created equal parchment
Holding these truths to be self-evident
The oppression of the Kings colony
Patriotic revolutionary
Migrating minds irrational to sane
Reserved safe harbor but to others pain
Land of self-righteousness and victory
Exceptionalism and destiny
Ships billowing with holds of chattel slaves
Fractional human beings ordained graves
Until brother killed brother for freedom
Assassination emancipation
Forty acres and a mule recompense
Jim Crow separate but equal pretense
Lynch mob street justice terrorism rope
Vietnam veteran unable to cope
James Earl Ray bullet Memphis balcony
Bull Connor another dead Kennedy
Black power fist raised Mexico City
Malcolm X panther Muhammed Ali
White supremacy freedom riders dead
Mississippi white cross on fire dread
Rodney King can’t we just get along plea
Is skin color all we will ever see?
Should they get over their Mockingbird past
Should they burn the city or should they fast?
Oh Lord should we turn a cheek in silence
Or fight with Kings dream of non-violence?
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
I entered my poem "last night I dreamed" in the Tallenge poetry competition for May 2014, which it won, it's now in the annual competition so I'd really appreciate your support by voting for it at - bit.ly/1pJ0N3z
You can find the poem down the line in my list of poems, but I'll paste it here again so you can check it out to see if it's worth a vote.
Last Night I dreamt
Of the Hagia Sophia.
Looking across
mighty Bosphorous.
In Istanbul, in Byzantium,
in Constantinople.
A prize of ages...........
In all her many's
real and imagined glory.
Man's desire,
God's gift.
Stone's testament
To my species' faith,
In eternity.
Though this Hagia,
My Sophia,
was one of my dreams
In a dream-city/state.
In a dream Macedon/Thrace,
Modern and ancient
Asian/Europe, European-Asia,
Turk and Greek
Jew and Russian
Balkan stars fall upon her'
Coloured light's
and bright vid-screens.
Amid stone and earth
Glass and concrete,
Granite and amythst
Huge, jewel-covered,
ancient beyond measure....
Not just Constantine's church,
though mighty church it was..
Or Mehmet's prize;
though great Mosque it became
Nor Theodosius's rock
Though he still fights for her
Somewhere in the past.
And no dry museum either,
Though museum she is..........
In reality.
Just an ancient place,
Euxine harbour
Cross-road of man and water,
Land and Gods
Magic and reality
Chozen by Hellas
Built and owned
by Christ's children
Subjects of St. Paul's
Holy empire.
Orthodox and sacred
To Greek and Rus.
No Latin hymns
We're sung in her walls.
Then won by Turk
In wars fierce and long -
So now Muhammed's shrine
Ottoman and Pasha
Jewel of a new kingdom
Built upon built
Myriad upon myriad
Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian
And the Gods of Hellas
who dwell there still
Watch and wonder
at it all
But in my dream
She was made -
in the shape of a grassy mound
Many faceted, growing still
Amid structures, attached to her
spans and arches
Ancient wonder
Modern glory
Flowing and rising
Worshipped by all who
dwelt near her.
Grassed covered
Monument strewn
Stretching up to the dark -
Starry Sky
Arches
Domes
Butress'
Spires
Crosses
Cresents
Heart's desire
White rocks paved
And eternal grasses
Dewed by Hellene Gods
Whose light it saved
Last night I dreamed
Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
For all of them, greatness ekes not on goodness,
but on mysterious and spectacular humility,
semitism cradled from epileptic Tehra,
Hebrewism from Abrahamic despair,
Jewry from shrewd Israel of Isaac,
Christianity from lame footed jesus,
Islam from an epileptic desert oat;Muhammed,
Africanism from warped emotionalism,
Hinduism a mere avatar of godly imaginations
all these calls for a pious dejavu
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
Thousands in numbers for a meagre few to ****
For the injustice meted out 1400 years ago,
To enforce allegiance and satisfy their ego
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
For the innocent who had done no ill,
Where Hussain stood against injustice and oppression,
Against undue aggression.
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
Tears of blood my eyes fill,
Where Hussain's seventy-two kinsmen were slain on the scorching sand,
Hardships and cruelties they were ready to withstand,
Denied food and water for three days,
Ready to die in Allah's ways.
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
My tears continue to spill,
When I listen to the orator,
How Hussain's six month son was denied water,
Instead pierced to death with a three headed arrow,
Which a father from the neck had to withdraw.
How Hussain's brother's hands
were severed and he was killed because he took water from R.Euphrates in a *** for his niece,
A brother who emanated love and peace.
How they battered to death Hussain's eighteen year old son, an exact resemblance of Prophet Muhammed(SAW),
Prime in his youth,a great sorrow
Kerbala I weep bitterly still,
My tears continue to spill
How Hussain was slain,
On the scorching sand,
Without food and water,
With 999 wounds,blood splurting
out of all parts of his body, to be slaughtered,
Forty thousand army raining arrows at him from all directions,
Blood blurring his vision
He, Hussain alone, unable to move a limb,
A target to satisfy their whims
Some threw stones, some pierced spears and others wounded him with axes,
The leader kicked Hussain and tried to slaughter his neck with a blunt knife,
Not that way, you cannot take my life,
And Hussain said,"Let me prostrate before Allah and pray for forgiveness for my people,
Wounded and feeble,
With an inner strength Hussain heaved himself and gave the last Sajda(prostation),
The enemy severed off his head from his body without hesitation.
Hussain kept his promise to his grandfather to sacrifice his head for Islam,
That day the skies, earth and nature wept bitterly for Hussain(Alai Salam).
Who would not?
The tragedy of Kerbala would evoke deep grief even in the heedless.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
Dont hate me cuz I am beautiful
Looking Hijabi-licious for Allah, devoutly dutiful
Shaking your head at me cuz I cover
Wouldn’t take you nor your wingman as a lover
Glaring at me crazily cuz I’m veiled
An ocean of chastity you’ve never sailed
And you’re all alarmed cuz I’m devout
I’m hijab-tastic! Not even a single toe is out!
You can quit cat-calling me too; Cuz I’m chaste
Aint’ no welcome sign wrapped ‘round this waist
Tryna peer pressure me cuz I’m concealed
And ain’t out here tryna cop a feel
Pontificating that I’m oppressed cuz I’m different
“miss Muhammed is much too modest, we like ‘em ignorant”
And you’re kinda curious cuz u cant cuddle this Jelly
Joker, Lord knows ur stupid tail ain’t ready
So don’t hate cuz you, your boy, and your girl cant touch this
I’m a female manifestation of feminine justice
*********************************************
And girl, now you’re just jealous cuz you think he likes it
Said “wonder what her hair’s like when she unties it?”
Yeah She’s hoping to high heaven that I’m hot in my Hijab
So she can get me to join her in flashing flabby flabs of abs
Don’t be mean to me cuz real men find me appealing
Kindly consider concealing all the cleavage you’ve been revealing
You’re surprised because our boss recognized my mind?
Could it be because he isn’t busy admiring my behind?
I heard there was insane party where the office nicknamed you Lil “Miss loose & cray cray”
Oh, Dang. Anyway, they nicknamed me Lil Miss gotta go pray pray
You out here hating cuz my beauty is discreet
But if I was half naked, girl you know you couldn’t compete
So later for you, your lewd dude, and your half **** crew!
It’s not your pleasure that I seek
Allah, the Beautiful Fashioner, formed this physique
Verily Allah made everything valuable a challenge to achieve
Pearls, diamonds, gold, heaven, and— yes!— even ME
He, Almighty, offered me a trade treaty,
His commands for my Destiny
So I traded in ****** for decency
I traded in popularity for modesty
And I’m trading in your knuckle-headed opinion
For His highest heavenly dominion
Hijab-ulous 4 life!
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 2:34 AM UTC
5 million angels of God with a shortage of love
10 million small feet without a heaven to call their own
orphans of a lost war, children of hunger and distress
the loving nest in their parents arms got blown to shreds.
So they suffer, innocent souls that have no were to hide
in tears of pain, in between heaven and hell Muhammed walks
in a drone strike a child’s future in the last thing on anyone’s minds
Every day war mongers cultivate the future enemies of this land.
Suffer the little children, the infants, the school kids, the toddlers
In the hot desert sand burn and riddled with bullets lie their rotting corpses
their small eyes staring blank into infinity and no one dares to close them
sleeping on ravaged streets barely out of their strollers.
Wish I could send my useless hands to heal their wounds
the American invasion of Iraq became their tombs.
Suffer the little children in sulfur
victims of greed, lust for power and oil
pray to Allah every night to care for them
children without a future, victims of a war they didn’t deserve.
And so they suffer.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
-The best way to fight the fear of terrorism
is by turning off your TV screens.-
TV Terrorist.
Ladies hide your burkas!
the 1st amendment ain’t gonna protect ya
because for as little as an ignorant comment...
-YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Racist slurs, misinformation and greed
are 1/2 the price of what they used to be
ACT NOW so they can see!
-YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Don’t let the sirens of the fashion police disturb ya
we’ll wiretap your mosque from the city to suburbia
just grow that beard Osama style!
-And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
After your Morning Joe just head over to CNN
they’re about to have some Baklawa at Fox & Friends
let’s keep feeding more hate speech to the talking heads.
-So YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Replace your Quran with the National Enquirer
so you can be as American as they are
Muhammed is not a match for Uncle Sam.
-Just wear that robe the way Jesus did
and YOU can be TV Terrorist too!
You see, turban rhymes with Taliban
therefore you’re all the same so pump our gas
brown skin clashes with the red, white & blue of our flag.
-Just make sure to look angry!
And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
Sensationalism in the media is worth more than your beliefs
your good morals and spirituality is not for us to say
as long as that red dot across your forehead turns into an infrared.
-Look up Hassan! And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
From the cities of Iraq to the caves Afghanistan
ride your camel and dignity right through an EZ Pass
watch the drones drop and the ratings soar!
-And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:30 AM UTC
Last Night I dreamt
Of the Hagia Sophia.
Looking across
mighty Bosphorous.
In Istanbul, in Byzantium,
in Constantinople.
A prize of ages...........
In all her many's
real and imagined glory.
Man's desire,
God's gift.
Stone's testament
To my species' faith,
In eternity.
Though this Hagia,
My Sophia,
was one of my dreams
In a dream-city/state.
In a dream Macedon/Thrace,
Modern and ancient
Asian/Europe, European-Asia,
Turk and Greek
Jew and Russian
Balkan stars fall upon her'
Coloured light's
and bright vid-screens.
Amid stone and earth
Glass and concrete,
Granite and amythst
Huge, jewel-covered,
ancient beyond measure....
Not just Constantine's church,
though mighty church it was..
Or Mehmet's prize;
though great Mosque it became
Nor Theodosius's rock
Though he still fights for her
Somewhere in the past.
And no dry museum either,
Though museum she is..........
In reality.
Just an ancient place,
Euxine harbour
Cross-road of man and water,
Land and Gods
Magic and reality
Chozen by Hellas
Built and owned
by Christ's children
Subjects of St. Paul's
Holy empire.
Orthodox and sacred
To Greek and Rus.
No Latin hymns
We're sung in her walls.
Then won by Turk
In wars fierce and long -
So now Muhammed's shrine
Ottoman and Pasha
Jewel of a new kingdom
Built upon built
Myriad upon myriad
Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian
And the Gods of Hellas
who dwell there still
Watch and wonder
at it all
But in my dream
She was made -
in the shape of a grassy mound
Many faceted, growing still
Amid structures, attached to her
spans and arches
Ancient wonder
Modern glory
Flowing and rising
Worshipped by all who
dwelt near her.
Grassed covered
Monument strewn
Stretching up to the dark -
Starry Sky
Arches
Domes
Butress'
Spires
Crosses
Cresents
Heart's desire
White rocks paved
And eternal grasses
Dewed by Hellene Gods
Whose light it saved
Last night I dreamed
Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
the morning after always hurts the worst
hazy brain
summersault stomach
and where in the hell is my car
i want a pizza
or two
it was nice to see you
i've missed your smile
and condensed stare
and the shape that your lips make while you confess your love to the beer bottle's neck
that explains the jameson
and all the beers at the bar
the beer bongs at the after party
and why i could stomach the strippers
it was all you
so nice to see you
why do i always feel guilty when the sun comes up
no one got a black eye
i didn't grab the mic
and my clothes stayed on until i was safely home
although
the cab driver may have caught a glance
to think
i'm "all grown up"
i'm not at all sorry
not for the whiskey gut
or the fire i'll throw up
or the kisses that i didn't plant along your collar
i'm still the same floral-print ship-wreck at the bottom of the bottle
my mother once said that the only people worth clinging to
are those who see all of your greatness outweighing your flaws
you still see the holes in my tights
and my falling hem line
not the honey sweet legs they shape
or the hips and thighs that the denim hides
i'll be just fine as the german genie in the bottle of irish whiskey
witty
and slack-jawed
and ready to kiss the lips off the face of the clock
and two shots away from dancing with the cops
i look great in hand-cuffs
i'll whistle the whole way to jail
small victories weigh the most
and right now
i feel like muhammed ali
thanks, babe
here's two asprin that glow better than your eyes
and they're mine
waiting to chase away the pain that came up with the sun
here's to endings that aren't a safe bet
here's to sleeping alone
here's to new mistakes
just waiting to happen
water never tasted so good to me
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
Every drop parts and rains
Along with the broken promise of the sun.
The thunder threatens the world of sleep
Where children dream with their mother's fancy.
The lamp's dead cotton sits lost in thoughts
Only to peep again with blazing eyes.
You, my love, also forgot me .
Who rules the kingdom of destruction ?
When the light withdrew from the lamp's lips,
I sat and counted promises of the day.
Who keeps his words precious for ever..?
Where is the promise not brutally killed...?
MUHAMMED RAFEEK E
Originally published by Better than Starbucks
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:31 PM UTC
The Universe is compelled to Upgrade!
Stars, Nebula, even Black Holes must be Improved!
**Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Sis Boom Bah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Sis Boom Bah!**
It is risen! It is risen! It is Risen!
Most marvelous, miraculous divine device!
Forget turning water into wine... Lame!
Forget Muhammed moving that mountain... Lame!
Let Lazarus flop back into the tomb... Lame!
This is Miracle as it was meant to be!
Oh grand glorious God of International Capitalism!
The triumphant product of American Genius manifest
in the work of many skilled primates' foreign hands.
Truly an event of Startling Global Significance!
And you have stood like a lemming on methamphetamine
many long hours in the rain to be possessed by its majesty
and now it is yours, yours, yours, yours alone
for only $649 dollars plus a few hundred monthly.
Let all the bells be rung! Let high Hosannas be sung!
A phone so smart it was beta tested on the lobotomized
and made them look like slightly scarred Steven Hawings!
The apps that are available will explode your existence!
They can provide *********** wipe your *** ******* you.
Yes! Imagine Siri willingly kneeling between your legs!
Oh, but what to do about that first important call or text?
It must be equal in loftiness to this Digital Masterpiece!
Perhaps command it to call Obama and implore him to gain weight,
or Alexander Putin to tell him a Polar Bear needs wrestling,
or perhaps God to tell him he is no longer necessary.
No, all of these are far too paltry for that first message.
Instead, tell Siri to search for the nearest Lunatic Asylum
and book as many cells as possible for self-obsessed consumers.
That way they can text and call in medically supervised bliss,
undisturbed until Apple provides them with the next Transfiguration.
It will probably only be six months from now... Suckers.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
A lone Muslim weeps alone
Mind entirely westernized
Heart in the Middle East
Shown by his father how to love
With faith of course
And to find peace with himself
A country built on blind pride
Unfortunately yields ideal life
Four planes taking ****** detours
Captained by servants of Allah
To die as martyrs in His name
The lone Muslim sits in a classroom
Silence during the 12th anniversary of 9/11
A peaceful religion forever stained
The teacher prints out pictures of Muhammed
And hands one to the Muslim with a smile
Almost asking for retaliation
Every night he prays to the clouds
Allahu-Akbar Allahu-Akbar
Identical with cries of the Taliban
Irony fills the air
As pictures of Muhammed come to mind
A lone Muslim surrounded by smiling bigots
Who can't help but ask if Jihad exists
Or question if Ramadan works
Judge his every move
And deny their prejudice
A lone Muslim weeps alone
As he remembers the day he lost his heart
The day conformity was shunned
A man rejected from love due to religion
Turns into a terrorist
And begins to walk with a suicide vest
Peace and love for everything
Now replaced by guns and hate
Political parties staining beautiful thoughts
Preaching American hate and Muslim supremacy
Things Allah would be proud of
My religion will always be stained
"Allah forbids you not
With regard to those
Who fight you not for Faith
Nor drive you out of your homes
From dealing kindly and justly with them
For Allah loves those who are just"
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Toil and trouble
He went through it all
Just a man yet so much more
He was the seal of prophet hood
Orphan child
Never knew his mother
But brought with him all parents rights
And love for children alike
Illiterate and uneducated
Yet not a word was taken for granted
Read in the name of Your Lord
A duty upon believers to seek knowledge
A noble and trustworthy tradesman
His character and personality spoke for him
Can you imagine in those times
A woman proposed to him
Committed to his mission
Peace treaties and alliances
Evicting racism and hatred
He even fought with rules and principles
He preached for the sake of brother hood
Humanity and love
We were all one
No nationality, no patriotism
Such responsibility
Yet never a burden
Beaten and exiled he lost his wife and kids
Still he carried on for us
Courageous and fearless
Never judged anyone by their past or looks
Open minded and tolerant
Even when he was helpless
Jewish neighbours
And Christian cousin in laws
He believed in good relations
And practised what was preached
He spoke of a time riddled with strife
Temptations with every breath
Those people would be tested the most
And he prayed for people he never met
Yes we love him
Because he guided us to right
Showed us a perfect example
The role model we all aspire to
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
I am In Love With The World
I am in love with the rain when the sun is shinning
In love with the thinning blades of grass when noon is peaking
The change from dusk to dawn
The mating of birds and hounds.
I care for the full moon
And the constallation of stars
I'm in love with the African baboon
And the roses that bloom in june
Trees and shrubs that just are
Green and sparse
I delight in the birth puppies and the milking of cows
Creatures of the earth that walk or just crawl
I am in love with sedimentary rocks
And sands of the sahara
I am into streams and rivers
Gold and silver that I am yet to see
Into themes of the titanic and dreams of a mad man
I like the farmer at his digging and the proffesor at his teaching
The pastor at his preaching
I admire the rapper's muse
The idential triplets on the news
I admire a soldier's courage
As do I the techniques of the runway model.
The orange cottage by the hill
I am fascinated by the witch doctors juju and miracles of the Christian faith
The politician's sway
The beauty of love and the comfort of hope
And ooh! The milky way
I am intrigued by the internet's scope
I love the lover's gaze and..
The rainbow after a storm
Nature and all creation
I am intrigued by the prophet Muhammed and the philosophy of the atheist
Existance,Diversity,Intergration,Divinity
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 6:59 AM UTC
He was born under sun soaked skies,
In the land of dawn’s rolling mountains,
But this was home here and now,
He was British,
He loved the flavours of his community,
And he inhaled the scent of this multi-coloured nation.
For over seventy years he walked from home to work,
And from work to home, a stone’s throw from a school,
He walked through these happy and silent streets,
He walked that same journey five times each day
To offer up his love and his prayers,
And to give thanks for the daily bread he baked.
Then…
One dark night of the soul,
As he left his local mosque,
And as he neared the safety of his home,
Three infernal stabs came from the back,
Deep, the blade slashed hard and it slashed deep,
Grandfather, father, husband… no more.
He was buried under sun soaked skies,
In the land of green lilting hills,
This was home here and now,
Every speck on the crowded horizon is a human,
The sun’s heat incinerates their hopes and tears,
And the soil wept for justice of a gentle soul.
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
After 3 years of being her friend
I finally asked her why she doesn't wear her turban
She laughed with sadness in her eyes
You mean a Dastaar?
I blushed in embarrassment
Wondering if I should keep going
She tells me she doesn't wear it because she used to get bullied
She's trying to blend in with us
I imagine a church of millions in colorful turbans and dastaars
I say tell me about your church
She says it's a mosque
I say tell me about your God
She tells me Muhammed and the prophet Allah
I say tell me about your Bible
She says it's called a Quran
She says what's it like to get baptized in your religion
I say unlike other churches we don't get baptized into a a religion
We get baptized with the Father, and the Son, and The Holy Spirit
The Holy Trinity might one say
She says tell me about Jesus
I say that God sent his only son to be crucified for our sins when he has done no wrong
She sings Jesus Take The Wheel
But she is not Christian
Other religions and cultures have always fascinated me
I say tell me what's wrong
She says her grandparents really don't like her as much
Since she's running out of time and can't pray the obligated times
People say she's Hindu
People say she's from The Middle East
People say she's a million things
But to me she is the best bud, a human, like you and I
I want to be in combat, as well as she
I want to be in the Marines, she wants to try Army
She tells me my father wanted to but he couldn't because of his vision
She tells me the same might happen to her
But it's the thought
I told her I wanted to go to the Middle East before I join the Marines
She said I'll go with you
I say why?
She says because you need someone to protect you
I say okay we'll add that to the many states and countries to visit after we graduate
She tells me I've been in the middle of war before
I say what do you mean
She tells me she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time
She tells me you know it's not a bad place in the Middle East
I smile and I say I know
It's not the country itself but the people within it
She has relatives in India
But was born in Richardson, TX
She is Muslim
I have relatives In America
I was born in Denton, TX
I am Christian
Hatred is not simply taught.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
It’s crawling up the drain pipe,
It’s crawling in your bed,
It’s coming back to remind you
Of everything you said.
It’s standing by the broken lamp
That used to light your way,
It’s filling in the empty spaces
When you’ve nothing left to say.
It’s fogging up the window,
So close you cannot breathe,
It’s watching you undress,
It’s watching you retreat-
Into your habits,
Into your sheets,
It’s waking you up
When you’re trying to sleep.
Into your whiskey,
Into your tea,
It’s spiking your food,
It’s all you can see.
It’s the rat inside the wedding cake,
It’s the rain on a perfect day,
It’s the wind that rattles everything,
Every cymbal in your brain.
It’s coming from the blind side,
It’s arriving without warning,
It’s brave and dark in the moonlight,
It’s small and fearful in the morning.
It’s Muhammed in the headlines,
It’s Jesus on the cross,
It’s the bias in the history books,
It’s the meaning that got lost.
It’s playing on your heartstrings,
A song you cannot sing,
A broken piece you cannot fix,
The calm the pills don’t bring.
Into your pockets,
Into your blood,
It’s getting to you
Much more than it should.
Into your mirror,
Into the screen,
All that you feel, all that you see
Are ever-decreasing spirals
And absent routine;
It’s pacing the halls,
It muffles your scream,
It’s holding your tongue,
It’s the mould in the crumb,
It’s the secret you keep from everyone.
It’s the reason why you stay inside,
Why walking the street,
Why leaving the house
Is like turning the tide.
It’s the jet-lag gloom
It’s the familiar ache
That weighs you down
Every time you wake.
It’s crawling up the phantom limb,
It’s the corpses in the sea,
It’s the debris that covers everything,
This constant anxiety.
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
So here's why I am crazy.
I practice equality.
I actively act to ensure that right wins over wrong.
To top this all off, the disengaged will use this to sing
At the top of their lungs
That I am crazy -- it will be their song.
Now is it crazy to preach?
Or for you Jesus, Muhammed or Yahweh devotees:
You chant for peace and love,
But when it's your turn to apply
You conveniently turn your infamous blind eye?
God forbid you open those eyes.
And see the truth in the world you've ignored your whole life.
By all means, please.
Label me.
Radical.
What?
What will you label those who practice what they preach,
Rather than those who drift in ignorance, judgment and disbelief?
Well I know what I call these
Who sit and think the same as I.
But wake up in the morning to start their daily dream.
It's called hypocrisy.
Go ahead turn down your lights.
Now shut your blinds
You are just participants in the guilty's crimes.
And **** no I won't apologize.
For valuing other life
And **** your compromise.
Here's how this all rolls
You play the game
Act nice and just let it go.
And while the people of misfortune become further disenfranchised,
You can take pride in knowing that
Your ignorance is the safest place for you to hide.
So yeah I'm ******* crazy.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 12:32 AM UTC
Let the radicals go,
it's a bloodthirsty code
we can never understand,
an evil hatred,
masked-fanatics hijacking
Muhammed
will eventually
give them enough rope
to do themselves in.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 5:21 AM UTC
I want to do the taboo with you
The city would become a deserted island
If they knew what we were up to
I want to do the taboo with you
Even the gods, Muhammed and Jesus
Bhudda and the powers that be would take a day off work
Because of you and me
Let's wander thru the galaxies
That sing above us with their mathematics
Let's walk on clouds that tempt us with their peace
In our flesh
That moves with bone and blood
Its smells and re-growth
Its dying
Its strength
Its boundaries
I want to do the taboo with you
The city would become a deserted island
If they knew what we were up to
I want to do the taboo with you
Jul 4, 2022
Jul 4, 2022 at 5:47 AM UTC
Ya only wake up at death
Once ya take ya last breath
Ya see the sun and the moon align
Wickedly created design braille from the asinine
Across ya mind messages sublime looking for the lime
Light but it's in you Ill chop into
Many pieces of the puzzle as knowledge increases
It's many diseases man made playin' us like charades
I'll just be in a breeze a wind parade as the music serenades
My heartbeat in the streets I see the constant repeat
Of punishment in form of enjoyment
This Earth ain't my home
As close a chapter to my tome
Riding my pain alone
In a dark room feeled with gloom I meditate
Then let the spirits consume
Mind body and soul
As I grow through the chakras hold
Scold the strains that unfold slow ya role
If you don't ya bound to roll into the creases that fold
Stuck in a predicament no satisfaction from the government but
Ain't no faking it
This is nothing but a slave planet...
Got folks in a listen over universal rhythm
Born in wisdom then some try to overcome
The atrocities laid by the everlasting in pain society quietly
I annotate my death date make the earth shakes
Once the rhymes mate birth of a nation
Flows creatin' a space time continuum in ya cranium some
Try to come to **** clever however I'll still endeavor
Most Of the necessities mathematics is my psychology
An ology no **** apology sensor sensitivity
Words aggressive carefully selected weapons
Mentally hinder 'em I'm poisonous even without venom
Tough as denhim I'm back on Earth because of a curse
I spiritually ***** like Muhammed thoughts flow faster than a
comet
So I'm lit no **** kin to the Egyptian hieroglyphics
Land of Kemet in it to win it ain't no stoppin' this mystics
Try to attack but I've been strong since I was in a nut sack
Yo this is a slave planet....
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 5:10 AM UTC