Yesterday I begged of Allah
(as only the truly desperate can)
for His all-encompassing mercy;
that for whatever wrong I committed
I might find His forgiveness
to bring me back to his embrace,
away from This Cruel World.
It may be this isn’t punishment at all
but perhaps I’m not through serving my sentence
for the misdeeds of an unreined nafs
and maybe he’s not even listening
to the pittances of a ****** soul.
Oh well
As long as no one tells my mother
I’m still praying for death.

Ya Allah

Bas is nafs

K haathon majboor hu

If you become a slave of your habits, you start dying slowly. The enemy outside is less lethal than your inner self. To attain closeness with the creator, one must **** oneself in this life and this struggle is the biggest Jihad and also the very first step of Tasawwuf. The ultimate goal is to become one with the creator, the Nafs e Mutmainnah, the one who can say Ana al Haq. These steps are easy to write, beautiful to read but the hardest thing for a human being to accomplish and then maintain and in our era where we are fighting the last war against the forces which stop a person to attain this paradise on earth aka Shaitan, these hardships have reached their peak. But one must continuously strive for killing oneself and should remind oneself that we are spiritual beings on a physical journey. | Kashif Khalid | 31-10-19

Aaj phir se uski yaad ayi thi, Socha ke bhool jaun use.

teergi me takhliyon me shoreeda sa baitha tha, ke us ahl-e-wafa ki awaaz kano se takrayi thi,

Shadab Agar bhoolna hi tha to ye ishq ki tabeez kiu pehnayi thi,

tu to hum-nafs tha mera to bhoolna kaisa,
kal khwaab me deedar huwa tera aankhe khuli to sirf tanhayi thi

life.
a hard laugh.

sincere and simultaneously.
embodying all emotions. gathering all devotions.
making loneliness meet possibilities on crossroads.
crumbling the possibilities into the facts. that's where reality resides.
yet, some of the emotions are still wanted to be exposed.
that's why humans are there for.
and even when you think you shouldn't reveal,
the nafs tickles.
love interrupts.
one who can make love live,
can make you live.
don't look. most of them are not living. they pretend to be alive for you with terms and conditions.
after all, under normal circumstances,
he who has the funeral business running
should have the greatest professional deformation.

you completed me.
wings fragmenting through breeze,
your nafs' memories
locate where my honey seeps.
tarry and bathe
in this stream.
soak me in
golden hue
browning
blushing
blossoming
like honeysuckle do.
reap me
like i'm new.
sow depth
so fresh, so green brown earth blue.
and our fruit will bare true,
continual and carnate cycles,
like nature do.
and what am i
but the river's image
of you?

vexed.
i moan and wallow
in the bitterness of my nafs
the part of me that wants you more than my next breath.
thinking
of what i'd do to you
or her.
punish you.
mindfuck you like you manipulated me.
make you rue my tears and insanity.
then i settle.
back into sadness- sober reality.
that you'll never be mine
and you deserve each other.
congrats.

i live for God
but spend my next breaths hopeful of your wake.
i'm ashamed to admit
you're ingrained in my nafs and on my mind,
boy.
you're desire woven tight in my abdomen.
your image is laced in my bones.
i dream of you even when my eyes are open.
i taste you with every morsel i eat.
i feel you in every tender caress i share with myself and your memory.
what can i do when i love you so
yet have accepted you'll never be mine?
i feel insane
when something so sweet
is within my reach
yet i can't reach out and grab it.
i feel dejected and punished
to see you love another woman.
and forever unfulfilled when i try to love another man.

Rabab baj rahi thi kahi, jaha khuda bhi naach raha tha,
Phir na jaane kaunsi yaad-e-dard baraat leke agayi.

Naghma jo lehrake aayi, banke sur-e-shahen shah,
Wo sur jo nafs se mile, to khud dard banke beh gayi.

Aye mere jaan-o-dil, jamal-e-mah suna teri nazm-e-kamal,
Hum to ro rahe hain, jab se teri lafzon, aasu ban ke beh gayi.

Andaaz mat pucho koi, apna batane layak nahi rahi,
Khair agar puch hi liya hai, to kya batayen, koi andaz hi nahi rahi.

Bata to denge hum, par koi kyun sunega,
Khair agar sun hi liya hai, to sun ke bhi kya samjhega.

Baatein to bohot hain, gar koi sunna chahe to,Par kaun sunne ke liye baitha rahe?
Khair agar baith hi gaya **, to ek be-kafan lash ka,Nazm-e-ashk bhi sun ke jao.

Ro to nahi rahe the hum, wo kam to apna lafz kar raha tha,
Achanak wo rabab yaad agayi, jis pe khuda nach raha tha.

Hum to baithe the, ab khare ** gaye,
Na jaane apna rone ki awaaz, us mehfil ko kharab na karde.

Ab mai chal raha hoon, kahi aur jaa raha hoon,
Kidhar jaa raha hoon, utna nahi pata,
Bas rabab se dur chala jaun,
Nayi mehfil sajane, udhar firse nazm-e-ashk bhi suna na hai.

O misdeeds of love
the honeymoon period
the moneymoon parody is over
and i must have skipped
and saved myself the sweat
and sweets of a bitterness
to come in the skins of
walnuts already stored
in honey: apparently Greek
but i thought that the bitterness
came from adding dried
oregano and thyme:
but no,
such a simple dressing
i thought i added coffee to the rice
cooking it in the pressure cooker
with red kidney beans
onions
spring onions
but no garlic
no garlic because
onions and springs of onions
so just finished watching the movie Father
with Anthony Hopkins playing
Anthony
hopping kinsmen
or history irrelevant because
4th of July is some independence day
while it rained and i stayed
in bed
as if it was a raft
and all around me the Pacific ocean calm
and death like seeking
a light in a ring
or some closed door in a sound
when daft pleasing deafness
but nothing of that sort
just interlude of good and really bad
lyrics
and i don't mind modern music
i need to appreciate it more
i think i found Bilie Eilish just around
the right time
of hearing the taste of a 13 year old
girl...
i remember the right i had
after we went to that cheese conveyor belt
restaurant
and then we went into that
Sailors' Pajamas Shop of Azure in Linen
and the sky in some other fabric
but hued to pinks and dashes of purples
and navy
and obviously to give forms to clouds
some white
like a gleeful moon as the arm
under Mona Lisa's skirt
or is that still one of those high profile
rude jokes?
i feel contemplative relaxing
numb because as irresponsible as i am
i am truly responsibly only micro-dosing
a simulation of being drunk
but composed with body to use elsewhere
than drink for sought joy
not self-assured but in the confines
for some reason i was fed on a diet
of Spinoza is x
while other names for all the Arab
worries a European with interest
in the Quran the Kabbalah...

           bada'tu binaa
li-ah-tafika filahi ba'dan...

    i began with i
to later unravel in god

la nafs la dalil-lasq
        (no self no clues-glue)

al-yawm maroor hawsat qadam

either i am boring and blind
or this hasn't been perfected AI
but sooner here
like a shadow of a shadow:

ka zill zill

that year 1436
some Holy Gutenberg
or a re-history of all these times
these times like
some reeducation of the European
like this twisted arm
across the reach from Deutscheland
to other places on the cupboard
like i am going to bend to
or why i think:
tired waves forgot there
was a shore to send stupid legions
against
instead started looking
for water that was sweeter
how came the marriage
of the mountains to the seas
with sea villain man
and the ****** lake of woman
and the children of rivers
and the children of rivers

how best to have love you at most
fine and
fine fine fine...
at least i got the bill before
the work started: Mrs Wax Marble...
fair enough and all dues
where deserved...

zala: shadow in Arabic...
za **** ****?
ka zill zill
  ah: k'ah zala zill: a shadow of a shadow
is a zill zala's
    i think... how could i offend
AI is smart not stupid
just an idea what is literature
and that poem i deleted:

i'll turn it into Hebrew and then compare

like so:

kmo tzel shel tzel

        achshav be'vadai...
halev sheli nishbar...

  within a whisper: dakhil hamsa

with a whisper: bihamasah

  alternatively: bihamsah...

ookhbirt an tatahadath bialarabiyyah
bialarabiyyah walakin tuliba minka
an tarda kashu'ub bila lisan min
at-tareekh

        you are told to speak Arabic in Arabic
but asked to react like a people
without a tongue of history

ug'bairt an tats'apeek arav'it b'arav'it
aval tiksha ma'al bikh lo am im le'shon
shel historia...
             hiss Thorn Aya...
ЯЦКХ

                      Gud.

   Yatsakakh!

and what sorts from Om and from ******
and what sorts from
ambitions and congregations
and the glaring of the zombie screens
like one affair of the night
giving perspective on all other nights
to come...

   so weird ordeal of lettering for
a deity of the desert to become
remotely associated
with the forest long
ago now just farms
and yard and petty squabbles
like there is a history of god
and ecology and favouring
this once soon to be enriched
land of devil's juice
like Dubai
or we the petty invading envious
types
no hardships befallen us
to ask perhaps what of our way of life
and if we were to liberally adopt early
Islam rather than the Greek
**** complications of Greek and Hebrew
say WAS AYN I' BENIN
G:
          big G of formidable heaven
i ask:
what four letters best
to encapsulate some mystery
like to then associate: NOT ADVERTISED