'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
Break.
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
Yellow
Brick
Road.
And yet the dorothy-daze that i rely on follows me through my path in life,
BLast
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.

'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

Deceiptful

Word.

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
For
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

One

Ethernal

Abode.

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.