"represented" poems
*I woke up this morning and my name flashed on T.V.
They said i blew up places , they said i killed masses .
Men , women & children I murdered them all.
Who am I ?
I am a muslim and i am taking this fall.
They used my name and spread the terror.
I am not them , it surely is an error.
We, muslims, are the holders of peace , we spread love.
Why am I being represented by their false actions.
I am a person, with different notions.
World will now brand me a terrorist.
Don't judge me by their actions , I insist.
I am not them, they pilfered my name.
They inflicted libel , and my religion to defame .
I have been robbed , robbed of my name.
I am a muslim , human like you , all the same.
My name has been robbed , my identity stolen
I deprecate the terror and mourn for fallen.
There are millions like me and humanity lies in our depths.
But we are all victims of Identity Theft* ...............
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
And just like coffee.
Let your aroma tingle and stimulate the smiles of those around.
The best source of touch
Without cream or sugar.
Stir the organic presentation that brings the next minute that much closer.
Whether the preference is a mug or a styrofoam cup.
Remember,
At the end of the day.
Coffee fits into any size container
And brings to life any size smile.
With one quick sip
The senses awake to a new day.
Swirled in unspoken travel sized rule.
It follows,
The beautiful ovation that rushes once poured.
Beautifully represented by your smile.
The tone of your skin.
Your hair naturally at ease.
Stirred by a finger.
Specialism by the majority nodding away,
Yet awaken by your essence.
Soon extracted and brought to life.
Swirling beyond content.
And just like coffee,
I look forward to a cup of you
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC
GENERATION EQUALITY
It is equality when you work with her.
It is equality when she leads the team.
It is equality to see her, think her and call her the boss.
It is equality when she promotes her accomplishments.
It is equality to pay her the same as him for the same job.
It is for sure equality when you give her credit for that brilliant idea.
It is totally equality to admit she is more competent so she gets the job.
It is equality when she has an opinion and is confident to make it known.
It is equality when deciding for herself is norm.
It is equality when bias and stereotypes no longer define her.
It is equality when her achievements are no longer firsts.
It is equality when she is well represented in critical areas of concern.
It is definitely equality to treat her with respect and dignity.
It is absolutely equality to fight alongside her for peace and justice.
It is real equality to be her allie, support her future openly.
It is surely equality for her to reclaim and take up spaces.
Not just a woman, not just a girl, not just because she is your mother or wife,
Not just as your sister or your aunty, not just because she is your daughter,
But as the very evident, clear as day Human that she is in this generation and
Generations more to come.
An integral part of a collective whole, we all need to better uphold.
Each one responsible, Each one acting consciously, Each one shaping up,
A generation for equality.
Belema .S. Ekine
belemascribbles
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 5:41 PM UTC
"I could
tie a plastic zip tie to my wrist
real tight until the veins pop out
just like a blood test
when the nurse
ties your arm with a rubber band.
All so that i could pull a blade
from its dull rotten scabbard,
purposely rusty but very sharp
and slice right through the plastic
into my pale green flesh.
Make it look like an accident,
An act of carelessness,
A fools play time with plastic and knives."
Today was the first time,
in a very long time,
to re-entertain dark mischievous
thoughts.
Thoughts on taking what wasn't,
isn't, and won't ever be
Mine to begin with--
My Life.
It is owned by,
represented with
three circles:
Red, Blue, and Yellow.
But it,
I,
was never fully accepted,
almost shedding tears
in a cell full of strangers,
strangers i somehow knew
but
Strangers all the same.
What got me through
was a hopeful bubble
that at each day's end,
I'm reincarnated into a different world,
A virtual one,
Escaping my past life of which I am residing in.
An assasin running through rooftops,
A lone wolf learning to survive in a fictitious world,
A super soldier shooting bad guys all night long
Or straight up controlling the mind of a completely different being
(Thank the heavens for video games).
But this is in no way
A solution.
It is temporary,
not an end
to a new beginning.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
mov•ie
\ ˈmü-vē \
noun
1.a story represented in motion pictures/motion : noun : mo·tion : \ ˈmō-shən \ : an act, process, or instance of changing place/forward, backward, up, down, pacing, running, crawling/how we flee from our lives, our problems, our responsibilities/instead of focusing on motion we look to pictures/picture : noun : pic·ture : \ ˈpik-chər \ : a design or representation made by various means/click, zoom, import, export/our lives are on a flash drive, on a snapchat, on an instagram, on a memory card/everywhere but on our own memories/we don’t like pictures either/they show moments never to be regained from our past/our solution?/combine them into something better/movie : verb : mov·ie : \ ˈmü-vē \ : an escape from reality/we use movies to deflect the pain of our lives/we think that we watch because we are bored/no/we watch to escape/escape : verb : es·cape : /əˈskāp/ : a recording of moving images that tells a story and that people watch on a screen or television.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
A fashion designer has defended models who were labelled as "gaunt and unwell" on Facebook.
Andrea Moore's I AM range is sold at Farmers, and an image from its current campaign was posted on that company's Facebook page on Friday.
The picture features Chiara and Norina Gasteiger, who are twins represented by Clyne Model Management. Farmers customers did not react well to the now-deleted post.
"They so look gaunt and unwell. I'm really disappointed," Newshub says Anna Webster commented.
"You cannot look at these girls with their bones sticking out and believe that they are a good role model for a family store," Jo Austwick wrote.
"I have enough trouble with body image arguments with my daughters without these images being depicted. They do not look healthy."
Moore said the imagery had never been intended to cause offence, and that she felt for the Gasteiger twins, who have worked with the brand for three years.
"The twins are actually healthy, fun models who are busy university students... We love working with them because of their sense of self-worth and uniqueness as twins," she said.
"We have been in touch with the models and they were most upset by the whole thing. Fortunately, they have received a lot of support from their peers.
"The campaign was about preppy grunge, print with an edge. [It was not] about promoting unhealthy body types [or] anything else," Moore added.
Farmers posted the following statement on Facebook after deleting the I AM image:
"Dear valued Farmers customers! We appreciate you taking the time to send us your comments and concerns on a recent post for I AM. Please know it is not taken lightly and we in no way mean to promote an image for women in NZ to follow that could be regarded as unhealthy.
"We understand that no two bodies are the same and we always seek to show a range of body types throughout all our advertising. These images were supplied by the brand Andrea Moore as part of a wider campaign and were published by us. We will endeavour going forward to work closely with all our partners to ensure an appropriate image is portrayed.
"Thank you once again for your valued feedback."
Clyne Model Management have been approached for comment.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/one-shoulder-formal-dresses
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Two teens with too much time left to themselves
Both experiences represented by flat lines on hospital machines during sad times
Flipped on it’s *** end quite literally
My youth is my virginity
Finding religion suddenly
Praying in my head “God, if you exist, don’t let the ****** break”
Her face in angst
I begin to flake
Spine reverberates
Elbows Shake
Bedside table vibrates
Text message
Receiving
Mom: When will you be home
Response: I won’t, I’m leaving my old self on these bed sheets
Send
My youth is my virginity
Time becomes an illusion
Not knowing how long we’ve been doing this
Minutes become seconds
Seconds to years
Years are months
Months.... minutes
I alone finish
Quickly getting dressed separately
Previously so ecstatic to slowly peel each others layers away
An eternity of silent eye contact jam packed into countless repetitive heartbeats
A mix of misinterpreted expressions cross our minds as we sink into the realization that we are no longer children
Our youth is our virginity
Your inner thighs have defined the ending milestone of my childhood
In return I thank you and grace you
No other person I’d rather have that connection with
Though we’ve long departed, our current standing is disheartening
Let’s give birth, not to children, but to friendships
I want to to represent my life with a cobblestone road
Being able to get to the end to find success, not regrets
I hand you the first stone
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 7:36 AM UTC
If the x-axis represented
the year we met, and
the y-axis represented
the year we stopped talking,
our point of intersection
would most likely be (14,15).
And sometimes, it seems so unfair.
Sometimes I wish
we were parallel lines, and
we never met in the first place.
Other times I wish
our lines coincided, and
we had an infinite number of solutions; an infinite amount of time
to know each other.
But our relationship is beautiful,
too, in it's own way.
We're two lines with
a plethora of things in common, and our lives got to cross
for just a small amount of time.
We got to find each other,
and then drift apart again.
But I'd rather have one point of intersection than none at all.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 10:04 PM UTC
I tromped across North America a few years back
Following the Mayan Elders
Listening to the powerful Lakota Brothers sing songs of mourning and joy
Building community
I was following a White Cherokee
We created clan
I was motivated by the teachings of the Anishinaabe
And represented Thunderbird Clan
We stopped in sacred spaces such as Serpent's Mound
And Cahokia Mounds
We peered briefly through the veil; Samhain
I followed the red path and eventually found I had always been on it
I met Hopi and Navajo elder's
And my friend Sea, a pipe carrier brewed a special tea
I was gifted tobacco that had been grown from seeds
Recovered from an iceman's medicine bag
She transmuted the ancient tobacco into a tea
By folding it into a sweetgrass and cedar brew
Sea gave it to me in a basic stainless steel carafe
Every time we drained the carafe
I refilled it and the essence was just as powerful as the previous brew
When I finally caught up with the Lakota brother's in Sedona
Their voices were raw
We all were
I shared the tea with them
So much magic on that journey
The joy on those brothers faces as the tea reached their throats
I gave them the carafe and told them
It was the gift that keeps on giving
Their thankfulness has been the gift that keeps on giving
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
Smells of the food cooking in the kitchen
Family gathered— ready and at attention
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
I remember when we used to play in the park
I remember when our Grandma told us to be in before dark
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
Sounds of laughter at Christmas time
I remember when we used to wait up for Santa
We were threatened with pepper in the eyes
Remember that?
Scared into sleepiness because our young minds didn’t know any better
With the morning sun, we rise and shine to open presents together
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
I remember these memories represented our close knit bond
People grow
People change
I guess it’s naivety to think it would forever stay the same
It’s the memories we cherish and should hold them close
Keeping the people near and dear that we love the most
Because there will come a time when the reaper must stake his claim
We never invite him, but it doesn’t matter because he already has the name
He may come in quick or take his time, but when he comes it leaves us blind
Blinded by hurt
Blinded by pain
Blinded by the fact we will never see our loved one again
Blinded by the new memories of a new type of hurt—a new type of pain
Then the memories overflow and fill the frontal lobe-the part of the brain where memories and speech are controlled
You become speechless because you become filled and overwhelmed with the loss
Family comes together to comfort each other
You haven’t seen some in years—it’s been so long since you’ve seen them you want to burst out in tears.
Kids have grown and don’t look the same
So handsome and beautiful, but you don’t remember their names
That’s how long—how long it’s been
Again, it’s a shame.
You ask, “Why does it take death to bring the family together again?”
Then, in an instant, tears begin to form in the wells of your eyes
You realize how things have really changed and you don’t quite understand why
So many memories they tend to cloud my mind
I remember that there is a need to change the timeline
I remember when I decided to finally say
Don’t let the family, your blood, fade away
Embrace each other
Love each other
Motivate each other
Cherish each other
Protect each other
Keep each other
Continue to make memories—no matter how old we get
Make sure the family remains close knit
Yep, so many memories they just tend to cloud my mind
Family should always be together—until the end of time.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 8:03 AM UTC
I remember the day you told me your job.
I was over joyed at the fact that I can have pink grass,
A colour that represented me so perfectly.
I was a princess and that is the colour to represent me.
You laughed at the thought as I continued going on about glitter and lights in twined between each blade.
I smiled as I imaged you and your crew working on my yard and I lean against the house admiring the movement of the muscles on your back.
I remember the first time we called,
We had just met the day before as I was enthralled with your imagination and I wanted to play.
I was nervous but you didn't know.
I don't remember what we spoke, but I remember your laugh,
I remember the teasing and I remember your infatuation with my breast.
No, I wasn't offended.
I am a ***** and I appreciate the flattery,
Can you get in my pants?
Yes with a price of your daily attention.
It has been months since the mention of pink grass,
My grass welts now and dirt scatters my yard.
My skirt is pulled up and I stare at a screen,
Waiting... waiting...
How is your grass? How are your needs? How are you and me?
I never hear from you anymore and I come to my conclusion,
I will never get my pink grass.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
My First Day at Hogwarts
On a Saturday morning,
I woke up in pain.
Perched on top of my head,
Was an owl shaking its mane.
As I focused my glance,
the owl got clearer.
There was something clutched in its beak;
a pale yellow letter.
When I opened it,
words started to bloom,
Mr Y. Vartak,
The inner bedroom.
‘You have a place
in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
Points will be taken for wrong,
and awarded for bravery.’
I showed it to my parents,
Who were not at all surprised.
They were in fact very happy,
I am a wizard I realized!
We took a plane to London,
Visit Diagon Alley.
In a hurry to buy my first wand,
robes and stationery.
It was the first of September,
so we hurried to Kings Cross.
We got to platform nine and three quarters,
after struggling through the chaos.
I had everything in my trunk,
I had nothing more to get.
My parents surprised me,
by giving me an owl as a pet.
I got a seat in the Hogwarts Express,
and put my robes,
There was a boy opposite me,
he was juggling bewitched globes.
We got off the train,
At Hogsmeade Station.
There was an amazing castle,
that was beyond my imagination.
We rowed across the lake,
sitting on boats,
It was getting colder,
so we pulled on our coats
We entered the hall,
Full of eyes.
There was a roof above us,
that represented the vast skies.
There was a dusty hat,
in the middle of a stage,
It had a rip near the brim,
so it looked older than its age.
A professor named Minerva,
Put that hat on my head.
The rip opened like a mouth,
Interesting is what it said.
The Sorting Hat as it was called,
said that he had to think some more,
After a while it yelled:
‘He’ll go in GRYFFINDOR!’
I joined the Gryffindor,
at the Start-Of-Term Feast.
We were so involved I talking,
we cared for our sleep the least.
After the feast, we departed,
for Gryffindor Common Room,
Outside the portrait hole, there was,
a shiny black broom.
I changed from my robes to my nightdress,
lay down watching the dying ember.
My eyelids were getting heavy,
I walked into a deep slumber.
This poem is written by me,
Yash Singh.
Specially written for my favourite,
Joanne Kathleen Rowling.
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC
*
Black and Dark are not necessary bad things
Many people associate negativity to it
All our African people are dark and black
Night is dark - and that is not bad too
Thinking, speaking, writing of Black, Dark, & Night
As negative, pessimistic and bad
Only shows our ignorance in how we all are
Brain-washed by those who think & believe
White and light is superior to every thing
Please remove this ignorance
While reading this poem
Where LOVE is hopefully represented
As a Black Dark spot on white light life
Black and Dark are as good as
Or even better than white and light
Here Black and Dark is used positively
Read it so that way
XXXXXXX
*How can I remove
The Black spot of LOVE
From my life?
How can I hide
The Dark spot of LOVE
From my being?
How can I not find
A job that will give me work
A place to go and stay
A friend who would understand me
A family who would accept me
A BELOVEDz who will hold my hand
My life is considered useless
By everyone in this city
Because of this
Black Dark spot of LOVE
I carry around my heart's kitty
With such accusations
Falling on me from everywhere
How can I go in front
Of my BELOVEDz to
Show how much I LOVE her
I've forgotten everything in life
I'm lost everything in the process of
Adoring this...
Black and Dark spot of LOVE
People say I've gone mad & crazy
In seeking positivist within Black and Dark
How am I suppose to find
The ways of life again for
The journey to my BELOVEDz heart
On the dark night path of fate?
This life without
A Black Dark spot of LOVE
Was nothing but waste
Life was just a maze of chase
For greed, success, wealth & fame
Till my BELOVEDz painted my soul
Black Dark with her LOVE SOUL illuminate
Now how am I suppose to
Remove the Black Dark liquid of LOVE
That runs within my veins
And why should I?
When my Black Truth is
Much better than world's white lies
When my Dark LOVE is
Much better than world's light life
Black Dark Spot of LOVE
Is the only positive I carry
So why should I even try to
Remove the Black Dark spot of LOVE*
*
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
The First Joyful Mystery:
The Annunciation: The angel Gabriel appears to Mary, announcing she is to be the Mother of God
Mary is represented by the church. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit may be compared to an orange in that they are three parts, but the same fruit or nature. Peel, pulp/meat, and seeds. Jesus is the seeds that God put in Mary, the church and later Mary gives birth to Jesus. The angel Gabriel appears to Mary and tells her she is the Mother of God. Mary follows God’s will at all times like the church listens to God. Mary is very afraid, but trusts God and goes out to share the good news with her best friend, and cousin, Elizabeth. We pray Hail Mary full of grace, blessed are you indeed in many ways. Your immaculate conception, your carrying of Jesus in your womb, your being chosen to bear our savior. Oh holy Mother of God, pray for us sinners from our first cry to our final breath. Amen
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
Criticism is validating
Your love is a choke hold
A marriage committed to my compromise
Generic mending
Each strand of bronzed chunk, represented a vow you gave me
The scissors cold and bare, cutting it away from my body
Swept into the nearest waste facility
I was invested until the end
Dying with you was never scary
I now degrade, picking scraps off picture frame edgings
Look at us so happy
Lusted objectifying could qualify as the new I do
Well, we didn't make it to 80 not even 32
Congratulations to your selfish needs buddy
I hope you finally find you
Here take this ring, it doesn't fit me
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
Maroon, crimson, dark red.
Whatever color you want to call it,
it sits balled in front of me on my old bedside table.
You want it back because it has "sentimental value,"
your brother bought it for you before he went off to the military
and it cost him seventy dollars.
On the top shelf of my current bedside table,
at the back, hidden from light, from sight,
sits the ring you bought me that cost over two hundred dollars,
the ring that signified a promise that you swore you'd keep.
You asked if it bothered me to have, if it hurt,
and I told you that it didn't.
You said that I should keep it.
You say the hoodie has sentimental value but I sit here with a ring of mineral,
real diamond centered on its band,
coveted only by the box you presented it to me in when you tricked me into finding it,
when you told me you'd love me until the day that you died.
The ring that later represented not only our connection,
our relationship,
but our engagement that I hear you're denying ever happened.
You did not ask for the ring back.
You never said that it held "sentimental value,"
but your seventy dollar hoodie from the brother who has given you
fear to be touched by unprecedented betrayal,
does.
I cannot help but wonder how you are not bothered by an item that once held such meaning
no longer being in your possession.
I cannot help but wonder why you have not mentioned it.
I cannot help but wonder if you hear a certain artist in the car, or with friends,
and think of me but do not say anything in fear of making a scene.
I cannot help but wonder if you are still in love with me.
If a hoodie can hold such sentimental value and the ring you proposed to me with does not,
did the words
" I love you "
mean less than
" I'm trying to get over you "
when you said them within a week of one another?
Am I never meant to know?
I fear I am not privileged enough to know whether or not these words,
these things that have passed through my life were ever meant to mean
more than a cool March night of lying on the roof of your car,
staring at the constellations and wishing to be with you forever
when I saw the shooting stars.
I fear that I am no longer privileged to say no one knows you like I do.
You said you wanted your hoodie back,
and I told you that I found it.
You said you'd find my clothes as soon as possible
and I told you to take your time.
I told you not to push yourself too hard.
I didn't want you to hurt anymore.
I don't know what to do with your hoodie, though.
It's moving from my bed,
to dresser,
to bedside table
to bed
to dresser
to bedside table
and I wake and see it and think of you
and I wonder if I should put it on when I go for a walk
because it's warmer than anything else that I own,
but I don't,
because it has sentimental value.
I do not.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
Standing at the Rijksmuseum
we find ourselves part of a lesson,
a lesson by a master in his craft.
Our company seven men
some look at us some look away
while Dr. Tulp, our eighth man
digs into the elefant in the room.
The cool body lies bare
like light were coming out of it
reflecting on the faces of the more curious,
leaving in shadows the uninterested ones.
The dead arm opened wide,
some lesson on tendons or bones.
Three hundred and fifty years
mute the master's words so clear
make the master's brushes so loud.
It was a time of studied ignorance,
of white collars on shallow knowledge
when my favourite of the Old Masters was born.
Retract.
Step back into our reality
observe the beatiful museum
for we are before one of its finest pieces.
But it's hard.
It ***** you in.
Something about the crepuscular glow of the body
makes you get stuck in it.
Observe the perfect composition,
the diverse faces.
It's like a photograph taken at a random instant
yet so deliberate,
so randomly deliberate,
so deliberatly random.
But step back,
look at the whole thing,
it's just
so
beautiful.
You could say it's just 3D
masterfully represented in 2D
but it is not,
there's something more to it.
Something you could call extradimensional.
It's like if the artist knew the algorithms our mind follows
and knew the exact input needed for the desired output,
beauty,
art,
even shock.
Let's move on to the next painting,
but don't let this image fade away,
let it rest,
let it click,
and let it grow
in you.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
*
*The one who LOVEz
Their name is LOVERz
The one who is LOVED
Their name is BELOVEDz
LOVING is both's religion
LOVE is their essence & spirit
The same LOVE for which
...
Radha-Krishna
Romeo-Zuliet
Shireen-Farhad
Layla-Majnun
Rumi-Rabya
Heer-Ranzjhaana
...
Became the fragrance of
Everything that represented
LOVE in nature
The same LOVE for which
Farhad cut a mountain to
Carve out a river through it
The same LOVE for which
Majnun searched a dew drop
In the parched deserts of Sahara
The same LOVE for which
Zuliet picks up a dagger to die
Along with one's
LOVERz-BELOVEDz Romeo
The same LOVE for which
Radha danced the whole night
Around the trees of Vrindavam
Singing the songs of Krishna
Today the world remembers their
names, date, time and place
"Immortal, Eternal LOVE"
For the same "LOVE"
We all are born again
To honor and fulfill
The existence of nature
For blessing humans
The manifestation of LOVE
The moment we are born
The battle lines are drawn by society
To keep us away from LOVE & LOVING
The struggle of life is to fight
An eternal holy war for LOVE
Yet, against all dire circumstances
The LOVE within all of us
Brings with itself
An inner strength and belief
To go ahead on the path of LOVING
Because history has shown evidence
Time and again...
That one in LOVE
Is always "right" -
A Winner
From centuries
That is what has happened
For centuries
This is what will happen
In the surrender to LOVE
In the kneeling of LOVERz-BELOVEDz
The victory of LOVE is destined
The triumph of nature is fated
It is LOVE that
Lights a candle in a storm
It is LOVE that
Sails a drown person to ocean's shores
It is LOVE that
Rises a fallen in the valley to its apex
That is what exactly NATURE wishes
To illuminate the darkness of LOVE
Within the eyes of LOVERz-BELOVEDz
**Oh
The one I wonder about
The Nature
The skies and the earth
The universe and the galaxy
I bow to YOU -
In salutation
For making us born here
To realize LOVE***
*
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 11:16 PM UTC
I am a Muslim, not a terrorist.
Don‘t judge me because of my religion. Don‘t judge us all the same. My religion teaches me peace. My religion teaches me love. It tells me to show compassion, not what you think of us.
I have only one request. That I‘d kindly wish you to look beyond the hate and hurt, and see Muslims are just like you. Peaceful. Loving. Caring. We have families too.
Terrorizing and vandalizing isn‘t Islam heritage.
Muslim, Catholic, Atheist, yellow, black, white, men, women and children. We are all born to this world for a purpose. We are in a world full of discrimination, based on our religion, color, nationality and gender.
Yet, they propagate Islam with a bad image, wich is a huge damage.
They call me terrorist, they call me danger. I‘m feeling like a stranger.
Remember, there is only one world and it is all for us.
We Muslims are the holders of peace, we spread love. Why am I being represented by their false actions?
They say that they are Muslims and they say, they stand for Islam. If they are Muslims, their actions would show it.
Muslims stand in prayer. Shoulder to shoulder, to stop the devil winning.
A terrorist kills someone and Muslims are blamed, a Christian kills someone and he‘s just a ******
Violence is not Islam.
Terrorists are not Muslims.
Alhamdullilah I am Muslim.
-Nura
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
I saw 3 stars floating
in the window over Greenland.
The clouds below in the night
sky represented the snow blind
vision of this half-country,
half-forgotten-continent.
My stomach ached, felt like gas.
I wondered if the flight attendants
were robbing a nap
in the foreground of
our lives.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
She represented freedom
With her humble clothes
her burning red hair,
have i ever witnessed something so pure
She smiled with her eyes closed
as she danced just for herself
She was not dependent on the crowd's applauses
She only moved for the heart's desire and love of the folk music
She had captured gazes,
without a single look.
The witness of her radiance gave hope,
but she was oblivious to her affect on the people
As with every valiant step she took,
her subtle curls were tenderly
shown affection by
the cool breeze of the night
She had known the woods better than anyone in the town
As if she had not walked alone,
which only made her light radiate ever so bright.
She wore mud as her shoes
and used the howling voices
of dusk as her armor
It makes you question;
if the moon was created just for her eyes,
they seemed to get brighter
and shiny every la lluna plena.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC
Don't you think it's strange
When the countries claim to support
Multiculturalism and diversity
But so on people go on to say
The food you eat is gross
It's fine, no need to say it
If they offer you some, then simply reject it
What happened to acceptance and tolerance
When all they seems to compensate for are
Western food, do you not feel this way?
There are plenty more;
The cloth you wear is strange, let them be hijab, burka and so many more
The religion you follow is weird, let them be Sikhs, Jains and so many more
I don't like your ethnicity, let them be Chinese, Muslim and so many more
I don't like your gender identity, let them be female, transgender and so many more
I don't like your ****** identiy, let them be gay, lesbian and so many more
We are the minority and always under-represented within majority
Feeling like stifled, palms sweaty as we know we have target behind out back
Identity we have and must continue to protect
For that's what makes who we are
But to which standard are we conforming to?
To which standard are we assimilating to?
(why don't you fill in the blank, as plenty people knows,
western rules and the majority are cruel)
They said we had free will, a human right from democracy
But societal pressure comes and claim the right to express culturally
So I ever so hate the country and the people
For all the promises seem to turn out to be broken
People cry out for them to go back to their original countries
when they have just like others, earned their right to stay
when they have no place to go back to, only in their head
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 11:19 PM UTC
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
To weather any storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Of defense
With liberty
And justice
Our common tranquility
And general welfare
A union
With resources to share
American rights
And protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking my mind
And yours
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Never being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Or forced to testify
To contradict our own denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
Brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
An enumeration
Merely provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Reveals more freedom
That is self-evident
No list or count
Exists to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is not permissible
A living breathing document?
Or static words unbending?
Even as we amend
Change never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
But others may disagree
There may be a fight
The spirit of intent
Is there to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC