Born Confused

A mask, a sign of morality–trying to keep numb when I know the time will come when all is said and done and no turning back, a lump in my throat trying to relax but we all know there’s a subtle unrest as I blink back tears realization dawns; numb is not acceptable, tears irrefutable– not expressing inexcusable. Painful to show the love when loving hurts; selfless perhaps–ego destroyed, sweetness of iman trying to sustain because without the True Reality ever present I am in pain.

Random thoughts, random words, inspiration hits–widens and challenges the wit… unable to articulate in such confines, so simply art, music, dance are there to express the love of the divine.

(inspired by this picture–which wasn’t taken by me)

There’s something within me,
a climax–a moment to lose then share–
heart wants to be exposed laid bare…
but keeping in mind time maxes
curious how you feel the pain in your chest it pulls, turns and twists
and for what? Not even a risk–
for that involves chance—
yet, all we know of the heart is that it is a pump
and yet it is felt a lance
of romance, piercing pain;
back and forth oh heart– what stance?

There I stood before a trap door
Goodwill’s flame aglow
Trusting, strong and unaware you were keeping score
Then someone anew made me aware
Of the darkening mist and betrayal’s twist
Grey encompassed my vision
And a weightless accompanied my fall
Someone I held close—I thought we saw eye to eye
Questioned me the most
And right after I tried to be a gracious host
He pushed me forward and down the pit of insecurities
I fell down the trap, sad, anger
A moment of feeling all too real
Confusion overtook me
How dare he!
Planning to distance myself
He lost a friendship with me!
Distain and lack of humor I will show
He pushed me here
Let him feel my lack of glow which he mocked
I walk on my own two feet
Let him desire my smile and friendship—a treat!
So now I look up the trap door
Blinking back tears and reflect a bit more
Realizing it’s all a reaction of a heart deeply sore
And what I truly want to do is cry
Not even concerned with “why”
Control—I must quell my heart
Praying to Allah is my start and drive
As I climb up the cave remembering to be thankful of the blessing of being alive
Another stone, a hurled to help me up
Following Sunnah
So I empower and actualize it within myself
Give true vengeance: to be guarded and kindest to enemies
Thus giving the world remedies’
Heart expands, hurt now turned into flame aglow
I climbed out the trap
And Alhumdullah came up with this rap

Life is flowing with the clouds ease and stars above, a glimmering delight sun on twilights glosummer of grey misty sight of confusion. Perchance these zeal and oppertunites is just an illusion? I see the losers fail, struggling so hard, hungry and weights in eyes the window to the soul, pangs of hunger just wanting to live without fear–homelessness cometh near and yet the esteem and high regard is here. No one knows, and dependents hugs so soft. Doing thikir to fight the mess of doubt, depression, and yet somehow fighting for expression

books that make me cry at night
creating a catharsis
challenging what I thought was right
killing off my narcissus
taking my sight and making it bright
Leaving me with true light

A joyful day a laughing day of eyes wit and hearts then upon pictures I gaze and an aura is transcribed, my interpretation might be a lie but here I shall tell and try: a mist of gray twilight of confusion and beauty and a gaping hole. tis the beauty of humans the spirit, the hurt and trust…overwhelmed by it all ran outside under the full moon, sobbed wepted the glory of God and bestowed with an inkling of it’s depth.

assalamlaaykumwarathmatullhbaraktuhu
I read an aching poignant post.
It moved me and caused me to write this: Bismillah

A loss of love. A moment of despair. This hurt becomes a shivering numb–churning in the stomach, pang in the heart, weightlessness, silent cries, a lump in the throat–something dies. Realization’s heavy hand and stronger acceptance becomes maturity’s land.

A truely pure exquisite love, where you hurt so much and remain utterly thankful to the One above.

Wallah, jazakullahkhair.

“We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.”

- Joseph Roux

My status “They are the heart broken lovers dancing on the glass they broke, their spit in each others mouths hoping to choke.”

PEEP: is that an original composiion
*composition
me: They are the heart broken lovers dancing on the glass they broke, their spit in each others mouths hoping to choke. Needle in the eye, stoke in the heart–only empathy and forgiveness will heal and leave them apart.
err, it’s not empathy is it
PEEP: *stake
me: ?
strook?
PEEP: stake in the heart?
me: i what the word for not caring
want*
instead of empathy
PEEP: apathy
me: apathy
yeah
PEEP: how can you have forgiveness with apathy
you have to care to forgive…
me: becuase not caring is the opposite of love and hate
to forgive is simply to write off
and not to gain anything from it
it’s turely a god-given thing
besides that
stroke?
pain of the heart?
heart attack
did I spell that right?
PEEP: yeah
but you cannot forgive without love
me: which one stake or stroke do you think?
umm, then maybe i should put foget
forget*
PEEP: yeah
it’s much easier to forget than forgive
me: cynical composition isn’t it? I am sure you liked the first one more
PEEP: stake makes more sense
yes
quite cynical
what is this an allusion to
me: it depends if forgiving and/or forgetting heals
more then the other
but I suppose but can heal, si?
both*
PEEP: not really
if you forget without forgiving
you’re not really healing
just burying your feelings and anger
you haven’t eradicated them
me: or it just dies off
you don’t really care
PEEP: but it can be reawakened at any time
and apathy is the death of the spirit
me: unless you go through something where apathy keeps your spirit alive
PEEP: yeah but
it should be a transitional stage at most
me: forgiveness in such cases isn’t tangible
PEEP: yeah but that’s just procrastinating
putting off summoning the courage to forgive
me: but I suppose I am talking in extreme cases–and I don’t feel courage has anything to do with it–somethings are simply unforgiveable
but back to the composition
the lovers
perhaps the orginial was best then
becuase they still feel or then they wouldn’t hate
PEEP: no case is too extreme for forgiveness
yes, hate is the antithesis of apathy
Sent at 1:32 PM on Wednesday
me: go through rape and then come back to me and say that no case is too exterme for forgiveness
and i put apathy in the compostion b/c yes it is the opposite
PEEP: the most beautiful man who ever lived was stoned near to death and humiliated in a way no animal ever was
and had the option of crushing a whole city between mountains
and yet he forgave
Sent at 1:35 PM on Wednesday
me: most women rather die
PEEP: the greater the pain, the greater the reward for finding peace
this does not mean you don’t seek justice
or that the proper punishment is laid down
I think all rapists should be castrated and left to bleed to death
but
with justice must come peace of mind, heart, and soul
and ultimately that only comes with forgiveness
not for the action
but forgiveness with the hope that God will guide them to the light
me: I have no true sentiment that such evil doers find ease ever
could you ever forgive Hitler?
PEEP: Hitler is dead
me: Honestly, could you?
PEEP: and so, no, I cannot forgive him
me: if he was alive
if you were in a camp
PEEP: you’re not seeing what I’m saying
me: I feel you’re being idealist to absurdity
PEEP: then tell me what you think of the prophet’s example
me: I feel it’s different. But because I am not sure why –just yet–I shall yield to you for now and keep the original composition: “they are the heart broken lovers dancing on the glass they broke, their spit in each others mouths hoping to choke. Needle in the eye, stake in the heart–only empathy and forgiveness will heal and leave them apart.”

“Tears for what I never knew
Of love and how it’s won”
This struck as truth as darkly as the sun, in your song of torment and angst and feelings robust—when we think we are old we are simply young; feeling worn and overcome. It is because we feel so strongly, so forward and then undone—when we feel patience’s lesson we’re stung. So now our laughter is loud, our tears bittersweet proud. Savor deeply this period of pain, God’s magic, inspiration and rain.

I cluck my teeth, my cheeks swell, muscles tense, as this Spanish guitar brings tears from a deep well. Exquisite, stunning and angst comes in a form of a sensual dance as rain pours outside, vivid green strucks the eyes as damp thin clothes—cold, demise—stick to skin reminding of a fragile existence and a shivering state. Dark wet curls. The weightlessness of goosebumps. Venerable and still and yet howl and singing mix like a beautiful hell. Exotic strange and yet Allah gave this capacity—this width of feeling breathe of stir—too much feeling now I fall asleep on floor.