Staple Gunned Sanity

*Explosion*


She crawled out
From underneath, 
And began 
picking up the remaining 
Shreds of what remained.

She now
began to staple 
gun all the 
Tiny pieces together,
She had really blown it 

this time,

She had definitely 
Irrevocably lost countless pieces...  

But this she 
Thought need not have mattered...


Before her stood two prospects,
Neither of which were destined
For her,
For hers was a far less favorable
Fortune.


Have you ever lived a life of false hope?
She had,


Have you ever believed that being good would be enough?
She had,


Have you ever thought life was a test, and patience will improve matters?
She had,


Have you ever been called so many names, cursed so many times, that you still thought there was hope for you?
She had,


Have you ever felt suicide was for the weak minded?
She did... 


And so instead,
She ripped open the already tender
Area of her chest,
Pulling the source of all pain out.

From where 
hope fluttered
positive thoughts radiated
feelings flickered
melancholy melodied..


She then 
Plucked a TNT 
Dynamite from her new friend Coyote
And jammed it into the organ,

*Explosion*


The deformed,
Stapled with
Thousands of staples
Was placed back in,
And continued the only
Purpose 
it could now fathom
carrying out.

Meanwhile,
She had performed surgery on herself
And survives to hide the tale!

Go on, try to define me baybee

X marks this spot baybeee,  
I ain't what u had in mind
Unlikened to that protagonist mind of urs,
Dead set on attributing me with stray concepts
Which have spun
Those precious pseudo ideas into a
Precious lil parcel of preconceptions,
Predicated on limited stereotypes!

It's the 21st century baybeee,
So how about u pull that ignorant flag
Out of ur @%$
And pick up ur iPad
And educate urself

Or let me give u the lesson...

I never aksed to be born,
Never aksed to be this color,
To be part of that tribe
Or that one,
I never aksed my great grandfather
Why he was a farmer,
Not literate,
I never aksed my grandfather
Why he didn't love my father enough,
Preferring to drown his sorrow
In merridom triggered by belonging
To a minority

I never had the opportunity to
Question my father
About what exactly it was that led him
to abandon his family,
Never aksed to be the only coloured
Bredrin in my school
To be thought I belonged,
If I imitated dem majorities!

And then I educated myself,
Looked at my history,
Identified the factors that led
to my being in this nation
of pale faces...

My nation was raped...
By dem past, old, wastemen,
dem capitalist ignoramuses
Dead set on determining a hierarchy
By any means necessary…

Preying on our mothers and sisters,
Exploiting our fathers and brothers,
No wonder my ancestry
Indicates a wretched suppression
Of colour,
We hated ourselves for it,
For what it meant for us,
And these past experiences
Are repressed so deep down that
The next generation hear 
Not even a murmur
Of the crimes committed against us.

After all,
God forbid there is a reversion:
Segregation,
Apartheid,
KKK,
Lynching…
And so
Our parents and grandparents
Feed us fables of belonging,
Pointing to our Birth Certificate
The Racial Discrimination laws
To the American President
But I say to them "Save it…"

I embrace this looming X 
Lingering over my head
As a result of my displacement
In history,
It’s not my fault
It’s not your fault
Shall we dig up the blameworthy corpses
And hold them accountable?
Nah...

Knowledge
U see,
Has taught me
It was key,
And I will define me as I please,
So don’t see my colour
And identify me as black,
white, brown, yellow...
See this X
And engage me in banter,
I will educate you
About who I am

I will be the storyteller
And tell you the tale of how...
Submission to a religion,
Undetermined by status,
Uncoloured by colour,
Untainted by ignorance, has
Enabled me to envision my
Past, present and
Future to a most realised of realizations…
To acceptance!
I belong to a majority baybee ;)

Yeah that's right,
I'm an ethnic majority
Put that section
In ur applications,
And while your at it, add this:

La illah ha illalah Muhammad ur rusulalala  [X]

Washing Line of Fancies

For my friend who does not understand my ramblings, try understanding this!

Today I hung

A bag full of my

Long left laundry

Of likes…

As they hung on the washing line,

For closer examination

With my gigantic magnifying glass

That facilitated the circumference

Of my beady eyes,
I noticed

A sequence had been created,

A fusion of fancies,

Organised by time and relevance

To the grander scheme of things.

My pupils inspected the once

Delightful damsels,

And I could not help wondering these wonderings…

For instance,

My teenage laundry was plentiful,

A combination of socks and gloves

That had made the prospect of institutional

Education amusing –

Ergo

A history A-Level lesson,

Laundry equivalent: a sock

(For confidentiality reasons we will refer to him as B)

Having watched A Walk to Remember,

The sentiments for a character was projected onto B.
Mr tardy was instructed to join my group,

And as he sat on the one vacant seat, beside me…

I began to quiver,

Subtlety was clearly yet to be mastered.

B feigned being interested in the argument

We were assigned to debate,

And the following week dropped the subject.

Completely unrelated to my spag-like reaction,

At least here’s hoping.

Forward >>

Seems I dabbled backwards,

Relapsing into falling into fancy with an imaginary…

I began indulging in the literary delight of a

Mr Potter’s uncle,

A exceedingly bad ass Sirius Black,

But then even he croaked.

Forward >>

Bad-ass became a prerequisite,

And thereafter an undetectable theme to

My laundry,

As I fell into obsessive fancy with a

Unattainable café owner’s son,

But the twist here...

I managed to somehow achieve

A proposition from the café owner instead,

And that's enough 
Divulgence about that.

Fast forward >>

As we left hurriedly for our flight,

We managed to suffer from food poisoning,

And very classily exited the aeroplane

On a throne – a stretcher ;)

Which led me to my next fancy.


It was round about this time 
I began to notice a different trend,
Though younger retarded days of
Losing body movements was
Now most curiously replaced...
Instead,
My heart began to beat to its own melody,
Pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-purrumb


Pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-purrumb 

As a male nurse entered,

In brown scrubs.

His beautiful hands made hidden veins

Appear not so hidden,

And there it was a new fancy,

Which became mutual

But of no real consequence,

Communication/ tribal problems.

So in my twenties,

There was a new pattern emerging

Clearly evident in my laundry,

As they now had become

More substantial in material…

A t-shirt,

A trouser,

A shirt,

A taubh,

Though there were fewer,

They were no longer

One-sided sentiments.

As I stood staring at each one,

I realised the ridiculousness

In these long paused lamentations.

And so deciding to embrace

My self-destructive nature...

I took advantage of the blazing hot sun,

And directed the magnifying glass

At the washing line of fancies…

As night drew in to snuggle up to the stars,
Once fancied ashes were all that remained
Upon the green snoozing grass,

And when a conveniently directed gust of wind appeared,

These too were gone.

No eulogy was required on this occasion,
For this execution 
Of frivolous fancies, 
Forced favourable
Maturity of oneself.

A bare washing line of no fancies hung,

And since night time had approached,
Concealing all those that hid in it,

She sneaked out of bed, 
And hung a cream ribbed hat.

Side Reel Negatives

Flash, flash, flash

Moments completely unhappy and filled

With sadness and loneliness

Are now judged

For their beauty,

And now the analysation commences…

The self evaluation

Of progress,

Or digression,

(Based on a moment captured in one specific frame)

I have become immersed

In this repertoire

These binary opposites

Make my current existence numb,

And so my past monochrome existence

Bleeds in to my present,

And this excruciating pain epitomizes,

Leaving my undetermined future appear of no real excitement

A bleak prospect,

Leading me to consider

Maybe that was as good as it got?

No this can’t be,

I remember that frame,

That time,

It does not represent my state of mind,

I couldn’t function independently,

And now I can,

Isn’t this improvement?

Acceptance of one’s dependence on oneself

And no other creation…

Isn’t this a refined realisation?

Not according to my Mother,

Who took this frame and passed it to my aunt,

Determined to ensure

A more socially approved future frame.

Rehab

Today I buried you,

I forgot your location,

I detached those memories,

I rationalised actions,

I forgave shortcomings,

I compartmentalised part of me.

I trialled enveloping

In preoccupation,

And test ran

Masquerading in merridom,

An obvious bandage,

For poor judgement,

And bad choices.

Yet

Day by day,

Trickling time twitches reminders,

And temporarily

Buried thoughts,

Twinkle,

Like specs of dirt on your character,

And soon it all

Resurfaced,

Boiling from the ground beneath,

Engrossing me,

Like quicksand,

The more I struggled to break free,

The more I was consumed,

                                                More

                                                            More

                                                                        And more.

Today is not a good day,

Today I relapsed,

Today I enrolled again in rehab,

Resubmitting my application…

Name: “Foolish Ignorant”

Age: “Old enough”

Background: “Was good.

Once upon a time”

Symptoms: “Anger, self-loathing, impatience.”

Medicine: “Religion, take all the time,

And compartmentalise the rest”

Audhu Billahi Minashaitan ir Rajeem
-

 I seek refuge from the accursed Satan,

Day one…

Casette Player

Sometimes I catch myself spending time staring at time,
Wondering when these feelings will pass,
Yearning for those times settled in dust –
and now wiped away –
All because of the passing of time.

But when I go back,
Its not the same,
The yearning is still there –
And so like a cassette player being rewound and forwarded,
Sentimental attachment is given to the prior life,
Then the present life,
And then the prior life...

Neither are giving me the answer that I’m looking for –
What about my future?
The truth is,
This fear of the unknown has led me to give up on it.

So forgive me and my futile thoughts,
The truth is I don’t belong here,
Or there.

Today a one-eyed Egyptian old lady presented me with a marriage proposal,
In spite of clinging to our Mother tongues...
neither of us were lost in translation -

And so,
I will wait for the Future to translate itself,
To offer me Guidance,
Untainted with my own ignorance and expectations.

But with my sisters, for sure.

A future that promises a love and acceptance of everything,
Only for the sake of our Creator.
I will learn to trust better, I will get there. Insha’Allah.

Dates

Twas the beginning of something new,
With old hang-ups,
But new surroundings,
These dates that pass me by,
Mark mistakes made,
Lessons learnt,
Same mistakes twice,
Thrice,
When will these consecutive errors cease to exist?
Do I cut them out?
The people associated with them?
When will this mummified guilt leave me?
When will this introspective nature surpass –
And finally leave me unhaunted?

I circumumbulated the Ka’aba when it was quiet,
I circumumbulated the Ka’aba when it was busy,
I climbed Mount Uhud,
I performed Umrah,
I prostrated in Rawdah,
I prayed here,
I prayed there –

Yet the daunting failures in my own character leaves me wanting to escape,
Running away appears to be the best solution,
It’s too messed up,
The prospect of returning,
I would rather start over again,
With unknown surroundings,
Unknown people,
So long as I can breath the freshness of solace,
And enjoy the beauty of my surroundings,
And exhale the distraction and comfort in smoke,
I’ll be fine.

Crossroads currently mark these dates in my life,
With uncertainty encircling,
And unsettling fear,
Will I fall back entrapped?

Hmm.

Twinkle, twinkle, little stars...

They sparkle and twinkle,
In broad daylight,
Like magical balls of gas exploding in the night sky,
In spite of witnessing –
Woes far beyond their innocent years.

Intelligent beyond their years,
Blessed with the tongue of the most pious,
With ambitions stirring,
Dreams dreaming,
In spite of being encaged in an institution -
Threatening their creativity,
They do not conform,
They fight,
They challenge...

They have determination,
They are strong independent Princesses’,
With attitude,
And humbleness,
Unlike what the generations before have witnessed.

Fortunate to have met them,
Honoured to have taught them,
Carry on ladies ;)
Wishing you all the best insha’Allah!

Punctured Hearts

With punctured hearts,

We persist on presenting

A person un-punctured,

Unfazed,

Unhurt,

By the consequences

Of hopeful relationships

That have led to no avail.

Our counterparts,

However,

Appear

And are

Unhurt,

Unfazed,

Un-punctured,

By what they had claimed

At one point or another

To have meant so much to them.

Our mother examined us,

Judging us

Our beauty:

In tact

Our bodies:

Not unappealing

Our intelligence:

Apparent

Our age:

Slipping away

Her conclusion:

Inconclusive

And so puzzled,

She continued making phone calls.

Meanwhile,

We counted the moments

From whence it ended,

Minutes taunted us,

Masquerading as hours,

Days cheated us,

Claiming to be months,

All the while,

They couldn’t care less,

They couldn’t care

Enough.

You see,

Our sadness,

Our disappointment,

Is purely circumstantial,

Our pain,

A circumstance of not accumulating,

What we believed to have been deservedly ours.

At least by this point

In our lives!

Thus,

Our happiness,

Or lack thereof 
Is a persistent pain,

Unwittingly keen in permitting

Indulgence on this point,

And this point alone:

What's the point? 

One consoled the other,

The other consoled

Another,

Each one aware

Of offering false hope,

Since all the while

A little voice

Whispered

What if that was as good as it got?

And so we continue,

Embedding hopes

And dreams in others,

Busying our existence,

Away from what we could have imagined,

Settling

With instilling intelligence

On the next generation,

With our punctured hearts,

With our fazed hearts,

Having learnt

A very valuable lesson

Repeatedly,

And the hard way,

To not trust ourselves

Our counterparts,

But to turn away

And leave this matter

Alone

To God.

Guilt

What I would like to know,
Is when will you stop?
When will you leave me alone?
- and emerge satisfied,
Parting with me,
Until your insistence
leaves behind
a truly failed human being?

All the drama,
Dissatisfaction,
Despicableness,
Dishonor,
Disloyalty,
Will finally no longer be the prerequisites for living,
And some peace
will be scrounged,
Enough to surpass any guilt
of having lived hypocrisy.

There is a darkness that persists
deep within me
and no matter the glorious moments
of Light
and being found,
my shadow grieves me,
frightens me,
taunts me,
and soon thereafter
I have to face the reality
of what my own hands have earned.

Repentance releases
some forbearance,
(Maybe I can be saved)
Yet continued existence
Deviates my mind,
To remember,
To recall,
To understand,
To apply religious melodies
to my own
case study of existence,
And after careful evaluation,
There is no shying away from the conclusion,
Something that can be summed up,
With an obvious judgement...

I am unworthy of Heaven,
Unworthy of salvation?

Does this mean I have failed my assignment?
And if so why is the floor beneath me not opening,
swallowing me whole?
Why is my inevitable destination,
Being prolonged from greeting me?
Is it because it's all a joke?

We are told that Saint
Rabia Al-Basri ran around with fire in one hand,
and water in the other,
hoping to burn Heaven
and drown out the fires of Hell,
So,
those who worshipped out of fear
or loved entry into its polar opposite,
Would not so,
And instead, worship out of pleasure,
To please our Creator,
To honor our Covenant.

So this is where I am now,
Worshipping to honor my Covenant,
To acknowledge my Creator,
Not out of want of Heaven,
Nor from fear of entering Hell,
But because
I need to,
I want to,
Because God is One,
And my actions poly;
good, great, bad, hypocritical,
But my journey is not over,
My meeting is still forthcoming,
And I know my reunion
Is with One,
So to not acknowledge His existence
Appears foolish to me,
And so my conclusion is...
My salvation lies with my worship, Insha'Allah.

Pardoned

Pardon me
Pray tell me, does my
Poignancy offend you?
Pointing to your own ineptness to
Perceive the reality of your own character?


Please spare me your
Pretty parcels of deception, I refuse to accept
Poetic words of transcendence in our relationship,
Pity me if you like, im-
Print my character as you like, but please
sPare me these deceitful
Plagiarised emotions! But
Please don't just label me as lonely and
Plug me in a bracket for you to
Pick and choose when to reacquaint me in your
Precious club, ultimately we are all alone
Pending our meeting with our Divine Creator,
Part time distractions are everywhere
Pinning us away from what the true
Purpose is to this worldly existence, these
Perplexed pondering is what I have, and you have your
Preoccupied merridom to busy you, I will no longer
Persist to advise you
Pleading for you to be a better
Person than I,
People change,
Priorities change.

Companionship

Companionship…

I never wanted to make it on my own

Believe you me

I journeyed near and far to ensure this wouldn’t be the case

And though many companions came to light

Their remnants is all that lingers.

You see,

The duality of expectations and permanence

Came to be unfounded

And they outgrew me.

Don’t get me wrong,

I’m not complaining,

Merely realising the realities of leading this worldly existence.

Alhough the blessings of parental support was important,

And sisterly banter catered to a contentment

none other could provide,

I sit here, alone

Contemplating these contemplations,

Disconnected,

Knowing that ultimately I am to face these tribulations

Tirelessly,

On my own.

The beauties of gratitude

As a result of these companions
Are not palpable all the time

Nevertheless their mere temporary presence
Has led me to the most inspired of thoughts.

Since each companion
In their own way offered some light …

Some support

Some loyalty

Some creativity

Some healing

Some love

Some happiness!

Yet all of these comforting qualities
From various individuals

(Some of whom were even fictitious!)

Have moved on,

They are leading a path not in conjunction with mine…

And so these fluttering thoughts of
Disappointment disappoint me.

After all...

Friendships unveiled themselves as false and fleeting,

Solemn courtships came to be of no real consequence,

Inspiring students progressed in their education,

And family became preoccupied,
Companionship with these ^
could not transcend time
or their changed priorities.

Yet today

It dawned upon me,

All these qualities that I desperately sought after,
- Both here and there----------------->,

Are beyond human capabilities,

Each companion having provided some healing,

But none mirrored the Permanent Companionship,
I was in search of, for so long.

After all, much to my dismay
And mini-me's vision of future happily ever after,
With a true companion,

There was no prince charming that was going to facilitate this.

Yet of course

There was and is one faculty of Sustenance that was forgotten,

Of Who’s Companionship is Never-Ending

And is of the most importance,
The Most True and Everlasting...

After all it is to whom both you,

And I journeying.  

In this way,

Having realised this realisation,

I feel less burdened with this matter,

Knowing,
No matter the matter

I will never lose

Or outgrow His Companionship.

Like I said,

My worldly companions have and will outgrow me,

Or maybe it's vice versa,

Nevertheless, it’s ok...

I have a True Companion unlike any other!

Insha’Allah may He be the Beacon that allows me to never sit here beside myself pondering these thoughts again J

Ma a3rif

With several paired eyes

Gazing at the ambience of wisdom

Which she believed to be random uninspired ramblings

Of a naïve, big 8alb-ed, girl –

They found clarity in her ensemble of words

She found healing in their attentiveness

A validation

A high, which no argyllah could substitute.

Still, heyyah abghah argyllah.

A recognised flaw,

Yet, hee'yah tahib argyllah,

Lesh?

She deluded herself

The truth –

When she wasn’t around their preciousness

The challenging melody:

Ani ani ani

Abgha abgha abgha

Was too much to handle

With a backbeat a decade old

A guaranteed abgha that so many make belief tales had foretold

Lakhin mita, mita, mita?

See how these thoughts 

Encompass her –

Alhumdullilah, bukhraa madrasa

And they will be there,

With tired sleepy eyes,

Carrying the biggest challenge known to us all alike –

Staying awake,

For the knowledge, we are supposed givers of.

The reality is,

They are and will be pieces to me,

And I,

A piece to them –

A temporary filler,

As they join the plain of a partial reality,

Away from their Rincess lifestyles

And a clueless future,

I want them to be so much more –

Uh-oh,

See how my wants somehow resurface?

Pass me the argyllah

And let me silence these abghas -

Ma a3rif.