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Monday, 16 January 2012

Soul Survivor

So I thought i'd stick up a piece that I wrote a couple of years back, I came across it after a long time- hope you enjoy it! Written straight from the heart.

Soul Survivor
Through the eyes of a lost soul,
I become found through words.

Through the ears of a human heart, 
I listen, and believe.

From the strokes of the pen that brushed my creation,
my calligraphic eyes see beauty in everything that surrounds me.

With the hand that was so perfectly sculpted,
I touch the heart of those who were and are close to me.

And by that same hand, I push away those that no longer contribute to my souls survival,
Where the mathematics of such a knowing equates to zero..

Where the science of our summation weighs up to the mass of only an atom.

Where the geography of our being sends the compass into a frenzy.

Where the history of our occupation will now rest with Eastern civilizations
that become buried with time,

And where the literature of our conversation verses no comparison to Shakespeare..

The infant of happiness is weaned within me,
is taught by my actions, as much as I am taught by its feeling,
develops the ability to talk,
as I acquire the ability to express..

Because true happiness, comes from within. 

Sunday, 15 January 2012

The Sahaba Poem

Our existence was watered by their persistence.
They showed us the way..
So miraculously we attain
A light that eradicates our pain;
Progression in faith, comes from suppression within
They taught us.
They fought for us.
They brought us..
A miracle.
So we walk on water after they walked on hot coal
Because of the miracle of their teachings and
How it brought us to the ocean of knowledge..
We drink only what they passed on
In that cup..
As it got passed down
No sip diminished its content
Spread it through fountains
But it’s constituent molecules always H 2 O
As the purity in that knowledge never changed.
Only came in different states to different states

So it steamed across the middle east and Asia
And trickled through lakes and then rivers down Africa
In liquid form to a land that absorbed without even being told to..
And iced its way across Alaskan lands and pounded the West and Europe with a
1400 year old hand that slapped
Sleeping people
As we know water wakes
Sleepers without shaking them.

They walked on hot coal for an eternity of peace.
But we never learn,
Thinking that to be deceased is the biggest ease.
The earth in no need of volcano’s
Because all they spoke were jewels.
We call ourselves wives of the mu’minoon,
Thinking we stand anything next to the hoor,
We call ourselves ‘Slaves of Allah’
Whilst they call themselves ‘SLAVES OF ALLAH’
They treasured beauty
Whilst we enslave young girls
To be the ideal cutey.
They wore the hijab, whilst we say we wear the hijab.
Because in a corrupt society in the media what bleeds - leads..
But they were from a time where they lead and then bled..
A time where the sword spoke louder than words.
But we are stuck in a zone where the sharpest sword is the tongue
Not fighting in alliance with the brethren,
Only lying and spreading deception as the bread-winners are always losing it,
Can’t feed their baby ‘cus they’re having children not from their choosing it,
They were from an era where the pill was unheard of,
But the choice was in their loins,
And Allah knows, they raised Lions.
Ferocious fighters, defending the deen,
But with their wives
Soft, like matured dandelions..

Their babies raised and weaned on the concept of jihad,
Human torches Allah placed for us to be guided on the suraatul mustaqeem.
Their existence so beautiful I can only see them in my dreams.
I feel their truth, so warm like the sun’s light beams,
So when I practice I get from cold to warm,
Then getting warmer, and warmer, and then I get hot..
As I’m getting closer I can feel their light beams until my skin
Becomes receptive of their heat..
Makes me sweat.. as I remember the akhira..
Until their light rays make me see life through a summer haze,
eyes squinting because of the brightness
so all I see is a lifetime consisting of a limited number of days.
Makes me squint so I become oblivious to the world’s latest craze,
Iphones and kindle-fires
Make me remember the kindled fire
So I fall to praise..
The way my predecessors taught me to praise.

Their righteousness at a level no ordinary man can attain,
But still attainable if we were so steadfast, in faith and not fame..
In not chasing sins, stuck to us like ink stains..
But can be separated with spiritual chromatography.

They were there to give his heart solace,
Their sole purpose to worship..
Like us..
But their ranks ever high
Their faith like rocks
Against satan’s work,
Invasions fought against in
Wars against the jahiliyya days
As bears tried to claw their way in to demolish a honey-like faith,
Bee stings is all they got..
As the sahaaba stood like rocks.
Making history..
Fighting these grizzly bears
With goldilocks
As gold visions from a God so forgiving
Was enough to make their hearts straight again..
Not bent by the world’s hammer
Instead it beat their ego down
So with humility they sought piety with their body on the ground
Constantly remembering their mother earth whose womb
They would return to when buried under the ground
To the clay they were moulded from
Never forgetting the hand that moulded them..

They planted the roots,
So you, me and kunte kinte could eat from the fruits
Of their toils and efforts
As they stood like giants in
Scorching desserts.
Fighting for a deen so deep,
Pennies would fall but never drop,
If you heard the call to prayer echoing .. it would never stop..
They fought for us,
They opened doors for us
But we’re so foolish we’re trying to get out through windows,
Not realizing that will never bear our sins for us,
That curtains and shutters bar our souls in us..

We can only aspire to be as great as them.
So for the time being
Let’s raise our kites to a level as high as them.
Then maybe Allah will honour us as knights among them.
So now I pray
For the honour of greeting them.
Peace Be Upon them.

Monday, 10 October 2011

If Freedom was a fruit

'If Freedom was a Fruit'

If freedom was a fruit, I'd let it ripen,
if it's seeds were brought through the actions to revolute, i'd let it happen..
to stop colonells becoming tyrants
whose sick mentality no psychologist on earth could construe,
one convict of many, leading his nation like a prison
creating anarchy and division,
but true power is divine, that line doesn't even need to rhyme.

how many cries do we need to hear, for the sirens to start ringing in our ears
and mind
about crimes against humanity..
the fact we do nothing in itself is a profanity,
outwright insanity.. that theives can trespass into the middle-east
taking condensed sands under the pretence of creating peace..
so they can run their cars on it for a couple more years,
taking oil like it's a souvenier..
whilst they are holiday-ing,
and children
are with their lives paying.. a price esso and BP can't top for the litre,
YES the east is getting weaker but you will NOT defeat her..
where in this country, men are stigmatised if they are a woman-beater,
but soldiers are honoured for being women-killers..
a MILE of crimes, in the media.. seen as a meter..
and we think we've done our duty by uploading a status about it on facebook or twitter..

Ladies and gentlemen, it is time that the West started picking up their litter,
as politicians have dropped words like garbage
as the world's largest
oil consumers
ironically fly over to dictatorship lands
to suck what's below the dessert sands
of life..
like a cancerous tumour..
like as if there's any pride of a necromancer in disguise of a trooper..
this is a factual reality.. this is NOT a rumour.
the west is the world's biggest abuser,
oil consumer
pollution producer
.. no wonder why the fruit of freedom can't grow here..
its seeds aren't sown here..
the air politicians speak to impure for plants to breath in to photosynthesise here..
so whilst materialism breeds in this kingdom..
back home, in jannah (paradise) we have freedom growing organically,
in a land that speaks quranically,
where we begin with 'bismillah hirrahmaan irraheem'
In the name of God the most Merciful the Most Kind..
where the word of God naturally rhymes,
naturally gives the heart piece of mind,
so you can rightfully give opressors a piece of your mind..
drawing in on the ruler of faith like a straight line..
whether you're sat in the gutter or on a star..
God's mercy is never afar..
even enemies.. like aladdin and jaffaar can make it up
by the power of al-jabbaar al-qahhaar.

so if freedom was a fruit..
and it was served on a plate to you..
would you relish the opportunity?
or would you let it rot?
either way..
freedom in here..

Wednesday, 24 August 2011

'Green Girls'

Green girls look at me.
Green girls, with green eyes turn green heads in my direction,
Swirling green thoughts that become engulfed in misted air
That read smokey h'O's' in rings that eventually
they swim in clear rivers,
In an attempt to baptise their souls
Which have become entagled in the thick green overgrowth,
With ivy creeping over their living corpses pricking with envy
in the jungle of their evil hopes.

And my rainbow visions
only seems to make them turn a deeper shade of green..
As these home orna-Mental plastik trees are Queens in their living room,
Fed by parent's wishes,
Bred to be artificial bitches,
They stand as coupled twigs
Compared to the vast growth of the
Real-breathing-voluptuous matrons of the forest
Lying at the basin of the himalayas, bordering a nation of pulchritude.

Hardened emerald skin falls on the skeleton of the ice sculpture of a feline soul,
They purrr around me..
And when I fall they turn in laughter
As fast as clasping a ball of wool with paws that cut deep.

Fragmented dreams
That conceive my being
Stay fragmented
And make for it a home in their emerald city
Where mOZlims are made segregated, where only they follow the
And yet the dorothy-daze that i rely on follows me through my path in life,
Along my way by the Wicked West whitch which attempts to take me back to neanderthal days,
Painting me with tar that sticks in caves
In taliban territory
So that suddenly..
I become
A terrorist?

I am now a 2dimensional image in an opal mind
When rememberance of my kind is clocked in time.

I tread on,
Walk abrasively on,
Step up on,
Get stuck in,
Swim and suck in..
Jump hurdles to,
Runs marathons towards,
Long-jump against hater's resistence,
Fly like a javelin without
Any assistance,
And pass the baton of my genes on from generation to generation,

Make Leaps towards,
Climb over their fake sugar heaps towards,
Summersault in prestige to
Acrobatically speak acronyms that don't seek to,
Decieve or in deceipt to
Sugarcoat the antarctica of their words,
Cover up the ice of their wishes,
And take from them their tru title of being Teal bitches.

Because these green goblins,
Spit fire,
That sticks like petroleum
Burns my skin with a vietnamese vengeance,
Trying to eradicate my human rights through,
Wiping out the slate of my ancestory to,
Depose me to the lowest level
With their gossip so that I too
would become lost
And unable to trace back the melanin of my home
Through streaking loreal foundation,
and clogged up maybelline eyelashes
I cannot see
As the eye liner draws
With van gough strokes
A pretty picture of
The girl they all hate.
The girl who has no friends
Because theyr afraid she'll take what's theirs,
Afraid that her beauty will capture floating glares.

So they alienate her,
Their Voice,
Turning into a turq-oise babel that pushes her
With waves through the current of their similitude,
They push, and they push..
Until the product of their labour
Breathes its first breath
Inhales thick chlorine-green vapours that never enter her body.
Never corrupt her innocent mind
Because though the world is green,
This girl remains brown.

Saturday, 13 August 2011

'The Lost Connection'

Lost words lost in a
Cerebral space
Failing to
Become versed and express yourself best in the
Worst of times.
As conversations with your Lord will always satisfy your soul,
Even if you’re not the most well-versed,
You don’t need to be poet, you just got to be a sincere slave to THE Master,
As God doesn’t just love you if you’ve got a British accent,  
Only if youre speech refrains and your tongue runs backwards away from
Filthy speech so much so that it would be running the opposite way, down your oesophagus to stay so that you would quite literally choke on your own words
Rather than spray lies and tell pork pies so it gets to the level of it being more haraam speaking em than eating em..

But remember piety in conversation is absurd if there’s a third presence of the accursed, demanding the last

The lost connection..
Regardless of your complexion
We need to reconnect our souls with their keeper,
So we can shout connect four on that day that our souls weep at..
And what better time,
Than the blessed month that has just arrived.

The devil makes work
Idle hands.
So though you may not raise your hands to idols
Make sure your hands are not idol when it comes to worship.
As god gives sustenance to those that strive in his cause,
So make it worthwile for that day we will be stood in rows
As for this life, I know..
I know .. We have highs and lows..
People that throw accusations
But innocence is not boastful,
Yet their words may aswell just stone me to my death
Atleast I may die a martyr
if Allah wills.
Honour in this life has no trophy, it cannot be stolen.
So theives that steal my honour in their lying speech, are stealing from their own good deeds and giving it to me..
But Its not mine, its something given to me from the Most divine,
So whilst you challenge me, you don't realise the weakness in the fort that your army of jealousy is hiding in,
When you shoot arrows
With the intenet to hurt your brother
As envy pricks in your deepest darkest desire..
Remember that Allah created jannah and The fire..
Whose fuel is men and stones, so whilst you lived in this dunya adorned
By the principle of sticks and stones can’t break my bones,
Then learn that there is only

Whilst in this life shaytaan conspires,
But in this month he will be made to retire
Don't let him reside in your hearts
Making your arteries hot
Pumping blood that always surfaces
As anger is from him,
scientifically proven to be the only emotion that affects the functioning of your heart the most. So Don't put yourself on a skewer to roast,
Because in the house of shaitaan, he'll falsely make u the host,
But in the house of Allah, you'll be a slave to the most praiseworthy the most beautiful One you're eyes will ever see,
So in a month where the gates of paradise are open,
Let's run to our creator and hope that
We'll be greated with salaam,
Where Allah Himself will read to us from his kalaam,
Surah arRahmaan.
Where the doors of forgiveness have no locks,
Where Allah will send us greeting 'abdi shatqtu alayka fazurni'
Where we will have paradise  eternally,
But at a small price..
To bear witness
That there no true God except Allah, and Muhammad sallahualayhi wa sallam is His final messenger.

The lost connection..
Regardless of your complexion
We need to reconnect our souls with their keeper,
So we can shout connect four on that day that our souls weep at..
And what better time,
Than the blessed month that has just arrived.

You're shoe-laces need tying as your tripping making sentences composed of lying,
Every vowel is growel against my existence,
Your constanents consumed by this hate you constantly show to me,
You eat my flesh whilst I'm living, but would devour it the same way if I was dead ,
But you were an enemy in sheeps clothing
You're wool hid your true will and intentions
But Allah reveals all, whether in this world or the next.
Either way, this life is the ultimate test.

Though Someone can steal the keys to your car,
no one can steal the keys to your heart,
Because they're not in human hands,
And no matter how many pyramids and towers you try build
You won't ever retrieve the keys,
But you'll find then when you're bent on your knees,
In prostration, your soul will be in elation, with the exclusion of any innovation from your actions
Only pure worship
For pure deeds.

A heart of gold is worth more on the scales than ALL the contents in aladdins cave.
So why wouldn't you increase its carrots in the month of giving, where you're soul should be taken spiritually,
Your heart shaking, your imaan elevating, your eyes weeping, your hands raised and repenting.
Give your mind peace of mind
Prevent of your heart committing treason against itself..
As for 11months of the year you're stabbing daggers in your own chest,
Not permitting your ownself from progressing,
30days of hardship for 11months of ease,
And if you still haven't forgiven others, may Allah teach you the meaning of peace.

As humans
Its in our nature to sin,
But in our nurture to repent.
So why are we so lazy
that we're giving miss-calls to our creator
As we're too cheap to follow through in completing the full call.
When the text message has already been sent to us,
Ye some of us don't forward it,
Whilst extremists chain mail it.
Others sending it to their spam or trash can,
But you can never delete it
Cus its a saved message,
And that's a promise from Allah,
Preserved from change and falshood,
The miracle in your home,
Sat gathering dust on your shelf,
The revelation
Sent to generations,
Conquering the hearts of believing civilisations,
Ceasars in rome, pharoas on thrones haven't got a THING on this.
Check your inbox,
Because the message was sent to your soul before you were even conceived,
Before your mom even brought you that iphone or blackberry
So let's use next months tariffs on our contracts to the maximum
To the most we can
Because before you know it,
The debt collector will find you, wherever you're hiding,
As your bill ..will.. Be due.

Mankind has no dominion over anything on earth as even the human body is something given, soon to be returned in a hearse.
So don't sit there contemplating how sad life is, cus that's just life.
Contemplate death, cus the angel of death isn't waiting on you. Its waiting on Gods cue. For the date that was written pre- historically in lawh-ul-mahfuz. Not your brithday NO, your deathday. But you'll have one wish before your candles are blown out, that's to come back and live this life like it was for rent, lent - not for 40days, but the life-tym u spent. You'd wish, you Abided by the verses God sent, you'd wish, you spend you whole life revising for those three questions you would be in the asked in the grave. You'd wish, you never would have claimed mastership, that for once you wish that you acted like a slave.
You'd wish, that when death knocked on your door, you didn't have to answer.  

The lost connection..
Regardless of your complexion
We need to reconnect our souls with their keeper,
So we can shout connect four on that day that our souls weep at..
And what better time,
Than the blessed month that has just arrived.

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Forged Faces.

The following poem is dedicated to people who I have come across in my life- who are one thing to my face, and another thing behind my back. I'm sure we've all come across people like this, so I hope you are all able to identify with this piece :)

Forged Faces

Your eyes forge lies.
so that you can build a fort on my lows and high's,
Light-housing my nights and days,
Waiting for me to sink and not return to shore,
Because your surity is in my destruction.
Happiness in my humility,
It brings me spiritual reconstruction.

So though my smile is your doomsday,
Watch and smile back like a child watching late cartoons on a school day..
Following my tail just 'cus u flipped heads and I won success through rejecting the common coin choice,
Yet because I neglect to notice the denominator over the numerator,
you try speaking in swaggd out rolls royce verses.
But you come across rather bentley,
so I recommend you sit back in the closet and close-it.

I'd rather listen to myself speak than hear utterances from a phoney,
because rehearsed verses don't work in free-styles or even real-life
so dial 999 cus you're personality is dead.
Suicide of your introspect as your counterfeit self can't even show minimal respect, by saying what you need to say to my face.
Instead you lose face in the act of trying to disgrace my image,
your tongue like venomous lace
tying knots to secure me...
Bred by your insecurity...
As you tread over prostrating heads to cry 'religiosity'
till lies and your speech become joint matrimony.
Fired rings on your left hand, as my 'love for all' burns you..
Warms your body yet youre still involved in that which don't concern you.

The bank of lies that your mouth saved up,
may have gathered interest as the years have accumulated,
but usury is haraam, so it add up to less than you approximated.
So maybe you need to get your facts straight and get a current account of what the real story is -I heard they do them at HSBC.

Enfringing your speech with envious decorations
So your explanations dont appear as victimisation..
But when it comes to the nitty gritty all you're after is occupation.
Not caring about oppressive behaviours..
you inflict pain on me worse than a mothers 9month labours,
No.. I'm not speaking about tyrannical leaders taking over nations..
I'm speaking about you.

Friday, 22 July 2011

'Speak' poem (Lyrical Art slam)

Speak.. As your tongue facilitates your brainwaves
That accumulate, crashing against another wave
And another wave..
so eloquently
yet so catastrophically ..You SPIT a tsunami.

Feeel.. The WRATH of a slave who says they are slave to One, and master to none. As I AM A SLAVE, and you are a slave.. To al-jabbar, an Qahhaar.

But mankind twists bitter chains around melanin-rich wrists and slaps fairtrade stickers on whip-lashed backs
slave labour drops the slave and leaves his labour, so wake up and smell the coffee..

Wake up and smell the sweat of your forefathers essence in the coffee that they sweltered in the heat to produce for YOU
and let it hit home that THIS is not your home.
THIS is semi-permanent residence that your grandfathers built from a place of ethnic majority and proud heritage.
Your grandfathers who had the REAL 6pacs with no protein shakes..

Who never let their desires enslave them, but kept their lusts enslaved, yet their progeny runs away from heritage, ashamed to claim they carried on there fathers muslim name.

Hear.. the message that was revealed.
Listen.. To the message that angels carried and a Prophet spoke. That satan can never alter so he tries alter what's in us.
The teachings that first abolished and gaves slaves rights.
The teachings that liberated the heart of kunte kinte, as he said 'salaam' and not 'hey gurll' to fanta.
The teachings that now get manipulated and associated with the taliban,

See.. How america suffered 3 big bomb attacks, yet no one speaks when hundreds of bombs are dropped in warfare.
Like as if having no more slaves to whip and linch gives justification for going into the middle-east.
So whilst you are fighting
A war against a figment of your imagination
That the media implanted
That your hands enacted
Your nationalism enhanced it.
The next time I say 9/11 I will not be talking about the time,
I will be talking about the time..
Not the day politicians repetitively remind
Us of
To justify their reasons for creating war, and not love.
Claiming to be clean of sin, but the only hygiene they have is in ethnic cleansing..

No more slaves so they take it out on Iraq...
No more slaves so they take it out on Afghaanistan...
No more slaves so they take it out on palestine, chechnya, sudan and lock brothers in Guantanamo bay.

They make me sick.

We see you step up, politically elite on podiums, but your legs move in backward rotations,
tracing steps that descend down hazy coloquilisations,
taking you back to cervical barriers as you walk back into the womb,
as its the ONLY way your mentality would allow you to go through..

Infancy became and is your residency,
as you lodger adulthood to give you power and presidency.
Slamming fists against the skin of your motherland,
Roots so toughly inbred u can't retreat as your hands have done the opposite of freeing you.
so where you came from isn't an honour as its hackable, no purity as attack is not honour..
So suddenly my melanin conencentration in your perception moves me down in ranks on the scale of attraction , but you forget that its what's inside that will raise me in rank in the hearafter.
And what is up with this silly word they use called 'tolerance'..? Like if you see an ethnic minority you should TOLERATE it. What a ridiculous politically accepted term.
How about replacing 'tolerance' with the word 'appreciation'.. ?
Appreciating us because we bring colour to your life..
As it was US that helped you in World War 2,
yet its US you wage world war 3 against. Don't hate.. Appreciate.

One of the most beautiful things in this world is the rainbow..
So learn to love colour.