These are just a few words about reality,
as Muslims struggle each day with individuality.
What is a Muslim and from whence does he come?
Like you and me, he is born into the world. because of two someone's.
Many of us grew up knowing prejudice in life,
I was gangly, naive, ever given to strife.
Raised as a Christian I never knew what it meant,
As my Muslim friend, how people could vent.
My younger years were spent playing baseball you see,
They were a team of Puerto Ricans, not one Muslim to be.
My Polish heritage was always the butt of a joke,
It was infinitely small, compared to a Muslim's yoke.
My parent's generation was prejudiced in mind,
To Blacks, and Jews, Hindus, Muslims, Hispanics and people of all kind.
I, being naive, never even recognized the strife,
to which these peoples had been subjected to in life.
From experience I learned to treat each person individually,
slowly finding out that that was how they treated me.
Oh, I can say I've met both good and bad,
and the underlying theme is all so sad.
For it seems that we put labels to people like cans of beans,
stick them on a shelf, never tasting their means.
But once you open that can and taste the fare,
you may very well find yourself going back there.
We have our share of detractors in this world of our choice,
but Muslims are not the ones against whom we should give voice.
They are as decent, hard working, and loving as you or me.
They only want what is best for their family.
I pray to my Christian God for Muslims though they know it not,
because they are people that He has not forgot.
Words between man and God are private you see,
that is what connects man to his Deity.
But in every society there is always some remark made aloud,
about how this group or that group has no right to be allowed.
What, I wonder, gives them the right to speak that thought?
Unless it was the freedoms for which this country fought.
And I am sure that the Muslims fought with us too,
so they could have an American dream or two.
So, I think I'll stay in my own naive little way,
and keep those prejudices well at bay.
I won't care whether the next person is Red or Yellow, Black or White,
I won't care if he's Hindu or Christian, Jewish or Zen on sight.
Yes, I'll like the next Muslim I see,
I'm going to smile at them, and I bet they smile back at me!
Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2017
I'm a Muslim whose voice remains unheard.
Peace was the first thing I eagerly learned.
Peace, the world's main hope and ambition,
Is the ultimate goal and name of my religion.
"Peace be upon you" is my all-time greeting
To everyone I run into or see at a meeting.
Love, the world's greatest aim and ambition,
Is the be-all and end-all of my religion.
Our Prophet once said, "Shall I tell you what to do
to find love, let there be peace among you?"
Let there be peace and love will grow.
Faster and stronger than all we know.
Islam is peace that leads to love
If peace is there, so will be love.
Copyright © OMAR JABAK | Year Posted 2015
We were accustomed to read one thousand
And one night in Baghdad...
Tonight the glorious city-sky is sad,
It sounded bang! Bang
Where is my mummy? Where is my dad?
Are they all alive under the cruise wreckage;
Or are they all dead?
The a ‘Rashid city was weeping,
It rained hatred,
It rained prejudiced,
It rained cactus of different shapes,
They're all aliens,
Some were homemade,
They're all colourful,
In blue, in yellow and in red.
Do you still remember brother?
Because if you don't I still do
What the big Satan, Lucifer what he said!
The cross versus the crescent, take it or leave it,
An entire racism by the media was also fed.
Some hidden in a banker,
Others crawling of hunger,
Others demonstrating with anger,
Pale, yellowish faces they all looked bad.
Where is my nation..My Arabity..My Islam ?
Oh...Mutasamahh! Where are my brothers?
Are they all dead???
They called it precise bombing and it was right indeed,
In the heart of the baby-heart
Like the British game of dart,
The arrow hit its target,
It hit it like mad.
Nobody moves a finger,
In the age of Patriot and Stinger,
They all believe in star-wars, economic prosperity,
They all believe in the Pope, pop-star singer,
They all believe that one-day Allah would side with them to defeat,
The neo-Thamud and Aad,
They're all waiting for the coming future Mahdi,
And for the Armageddon battle to be led.
Copyright © Abder Derradji | Year Posted 2015
The Koran we see is
a holy book,
You can read it
indoors, when you
start to cook.
The holy Islam it
shares with you -
The Koran we hear -
is so very true.
Praise the Koran
as life goes on,
And Islam shall
pray and smile
to the sun.
The holy earth
is praising the
As some of us
read the holy
Bless the Islam
as our son of
As the sea of
life fills the world
Islam and the
Koran - are as one,
no need to run.
Just praise the Koran
under the sun.
Islam is a prayer,
to all true believers,
In our lives we
lead - including
Blessed are the
salvation - who
always will span;
'We all welcome
peace - as written
in the Koran.'
Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2015
Oh! the greatest one,
The only I believe in,
Than friends I meet everyday
Your existence in silence,
In the deepest hearts
Earth, galaxies and great creations
Leading scientist to compete
Interpret yours into queuing puzzles
In voyage of million light years
I only see and read your signs
Through your trusted people and holy books
Never be in competition
But I believe in supreme you
Than logic and them
Oh! the greatest one
Copyright © nur holis | Year Posted 2015
Often called the land of promise,
Mindanao my native land,
Her soil wet with innocent blood,
The promises many but few are done,
Here stealth cunning warriors,
Are professed men of God,
Their decency turns refute,
For shedding innocent blood,
Anxiety pierced deep in our hearts,
Even at calm starry nights,
Anytime in the city or the woods,
Barking guns shimmering lights,
Is there hope for tomorrow?
Will our wailing cease?
Will our children and their offsprings,
Have the chance to live in peace?
Copyright © joselito asperin | Year Posted 2006
I cover myself.
They ask, "Why, are you ashamed?"
I say, "No. I'm proud."
Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014
??? ???? ?????? ??????
The Wandering Yogi
From city to city, from every town to town
Catching every smile to smile, every frown to frown.
His allegiance goes to the exalted one, not any nobility nor the crown.
The mysterious venture itself is a compass – forever trailing up and down.
He vision’s more to the sandstorm than just the sands might.
What he really seeks is the commandeering winds, hidden from man’s sight.
For he is like a moth, forever trying to follow the mystical light.
A servant of humanity, here to douse out ones fiery plight.
The mystical light to him, is like the sweet essence of nectar to a bee
His journey has no fragrant flower to guide the way, only his heart must see.
The burden of Caste, Creed and Colour cannot weigh him down – forever he is free.
These bitter ingredients are for his pestle and mortar, mixed together to serve he.
Always alert, always ominous. Wary of the treacherous thorns.
Even the smallest prickle can poisonously permeate – towards the path of the one with horns.
Decorating his path to God for others to follow – moving on as he adorns.
And for those who have permanently set their ship astray – he shall set up half mast, for he mourns.
From sunrise to sunset. From a healthy youth to a venerable age.
Adhering to his spiritual principals. A beacon of knowledge – a mystical sage.
Until he reaches his beloved, his only shelter against this life is faith and a hermitage.
Walking steadfast on an arduous journey of pain and languish – travelling away from life’s cage. The Wandering Yogi.
Feedback would be great!
Copyright © Naushahi Naushahi | Year Posted 2014
I am pretty.
I know, because everyone says so.
I am so pretty that
Hoodies and lack of makeup
Translate as showing off
Natural beauty- as confidence
In the fact that everyone
Will love me,
Instead of disinterest...
I am so pretty that
Boys ask how old I am,
And say, "Too bad..."
Because I'm under 18.
I am so pretty that
My boyfriend doesn't like
To kiss me in public
Because everyone stares
At the Hispanic boy
With- The nerve!-
To touch a white girl-
And a pretty white girl,
I am so pretty that
Any boy will flirt with me
And when I remind them
That I have a boyfriend,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty that
When my best friend,
A Muslim girl,
Taught me how to wear
People asked why
Would I ever cover up;
They would say,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty
That I know I could never
Say that I feel lonely-
People would just say,
"But you're so pretty!"
I am so pretty that
When I'm upset,
People will tell me,
"But you're so pretty...
You, know that, right?"
Yeah. I know.
Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014
Kamirynn is pretty
And Chance is very awesome
Chance loves Kamirynn
Copyright © KamirynnAnd Chance | Year Posted 2015
Dozakh aur Sharab.........
Tere laboan ka rang mile ga gulaab mein
Teri nigah e naaz ka nasha sharaab mein
Mil jaye gar woh aik baar mujh ko khwaab mein
Rakh doon ga dil ko cheer ke unki janaab mein
Dozakh mein mil rahi he mujhe peene ki saza
aatish bharak rahi he suboo-e-sharaab mein
Behre tashaffi aaen ge Muhammad e Mustafa
Bakshe gunah jayen ge roz e hisaab mein
Dil ki kitaab band na krna kabhi ay dost,
parhna likha hua he jo roshan kitab mein
Moosa ko gadriye ki samajh aaee na jo dua,,.
makhmoor tha woh nikhwat e baar e sawab mein
Du pal ka he suroor jo rakhe Khuda se dooor
shaitan ka he shor o shar sharb o sharab mein
Peeri mein sab ko aati he yaad e khuda hee kion?
he lutf jab ho yaad e khuda bhi shabab mein
Copyright © mazhar butt | Year Posted 2014
In Jordan’s desert, a building façade
has been carved into the face of a vertical cliff.
Stairs leading to the structure are lined with lanterns.
Looking up, a view standing right of center,
stone appears orange near the base fading to black at its top.
Where cliff’s edge meets the night sky,
darkness brightens into starlight.
While appearing more ancient,
this façade has features of Roman architecture:
columns, shallow gables atop flat roofs, carved figures decorating idle spaces.
It has two stories.
It’s first has six columns.
Two are set back from the entrance that is supported by four beneath a gable.
Two horses are carved on wall between first and second column,
two more are carved between fourth and sixth column.
Inside a portico behind the center four columns,
steps lead up to a tall entrance, black,
an opening to a large chamber inside the rock.
The second story, as wide as first, has a block cut from its center.
At each side are half gables, supported by two columns.
Statues are carved beneath each gable.
Between these gables is a turret supported with columns.
A statue of a human figure stands within the turret.
The grand scale of the western façade should be alien in the Jordanian desert.
It should be, but is not.
If taken from the rock and perfectly constructed in Washington D.C.,
with a coat of white paint, it would not look out of place.
A fusion of West and East, this place begs questions about the people who carved it,
political and religious beliefs of their civilization,
its purpose in a desert,
and how it could be ahead of its time.
Copyright © Graphite Drug | Year Posted 2015
Limerick cochetés: Our great uhr-Father from Africa
Our great uhr-Father from Africa
Hallowed be Thy fame in high Valhalla
The Asian walk-about
Down backbone coccyx snout
Who didst Thou mate in Peninsula Malaya
To produce orangutan Malaysia
Did our great uhr-cousin Gorilla
Chimpanzee when in doubt
Precede Thy walk-about
Swinging from tree to tree to Australia
To judge by great life in Southeast Asia
Smoke-filled lungs from HAZE in Sumatra
Death penalty for tout
With drugs- Hell for khalwat*
Is there doubt who preceded whom from Africa
• khalwat: (a Muslim – all Malays - religious law)
According to which, no Malay may marry a non-Muslim nor be found in close proximity giving rise to suspicion of promiscuousness, law enforceable by religious courts whose officials are empowered to spy on offenders and report their activities to the relevant authorities
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015
CHILDREN OF THE GOLAN
Beyond the fence we shouldn't go,
not even look, if we're alone,
nor see some things we should't know.
Our innocence has died, although,
we are the children never known,
and hide the we not meant to show.
Out of this wasteland, what can grow,
where only dust has ever blown,
too where, we never even know.
The Golan seems an empty show
the yellows, browns of rock and stone,
where we must make some flowers grow?
© Ron Arbuthnot
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2015
A Christian soldier with a gun and a crucifix is a man of God
A hoodlum with a gun and a crucifix is only a hoodlum
A Muslim with a flag and a gun is an Islamist terrorist
A Muslim with a flag and no gun won't make the news
Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2014
I guess the candidates and polity saying "no"
to Earth's human refugees
during this their Thanksgiving time,
did not finish their Darwin biographies.
While endosymbiotic evolution,
indigenous to any one species,
can devolve to survival of the fittest,
this is most likely in these times
of ecosystemic crisis,
especially problems of monocultural over-population,
resulting in PreTraumaticStress Disorder,
an emotional response to cognitively dissonant
chronic cultural stimuli,
high anxiety plus high dissonance populations
suboptimize their regenerative health
through Win-Lose assumptions
and strategies of more competitive logistics
than co-operative logic.
exogenous to any one species or tribe
supports thrival of the most interdependently balanced,
between organically individuated systems.
Ectosymbiotic and endosymbiotic evolution
are both symbiotic,
but ecto tends to have more revolutionary
and transcendently polycultural regenesis trends.
Symbiosis is synergetics,
Positive Systemic Development,
co-operative and co-arising,
negatively correlated (dipolar) with,
dissonance and stress,
competing health-wealth issues,
rather than default co-operative
integral synergetic symbiosis.
This is Darwin's
Cooperative Beloved Community understory,
a nation's or religion's
or any enculturing system's
exquisite design of co-arising relationship,
proportional balance co-communication
within and between RNA/DNA-syntax,
speaking in voices of time's seasonal-reasonal
folding and unfolding;
an understory somehow omitted
by Business As Usual cultural narratives,
rather than story-tellers
of Darwin's deep ecology.
Yet, what we too often miss in Darwin's notes
are also logical assumptions common to two mathematicians,
Buckminster Fuller and Charles Eisenstein,
prime dissonant double-binding temporal-boundary
between competing dominant cultural economies (proton v negelectron)
is where we choose to draw our line
of neutronic co-gravitational thermodynamic balance,
around us-inside v. "them"outside.
If "us" is only
non-marginalized human success stories
within our nation's
geometric spacetime boundaries,
then Business As Usual Universalists
intend to defend
yet overly commodified,
monolithic and monochromatic monoculture,
until this ecosystem wilts and fades
dissonates and decomposes
for lack of fuel,
to become fuel,
clean air and water
into confluent absence
(yet still bilaterally timelessly relational)
of 4-dimensional primal-neural spacetime.
are also "us,"
if "us" includes all mutually-parasitic subsidiary forms
of RNA/DNA regenerative health intelligence,
then we choose to co-mentor refuge,
already a Polycultural Party
seeking a more inclusive
cooperative self-governance economy
refugees and refuge-providing interdependent parasites
call ourselves "Beloved Community"
both hunter and haunted together,
predator and prey,
stimulator and responder,
Polyculturally Climax Optimizating dreams of paradise grandeur
Health-Sustenance Symbiotic Guilds,
communities in global networks,
nondual co-arising spirited nature
co-gravitational bicameral landscape design
and metaphysics of health development,
EarthTribal beautiful relationships,
proportional barter transactionalists
and cooperative network developers,
"Incubating Permaculturing Seeds and Embryos, as Political Economies:
Gerald Oliver Dillenbeck
giving thanks for refuge from overly-competitive,
Longing for an Arabian
full-moon night of mystical enlightenment
in the District of Columbia,
following the best practices and intent
of all 50 polycultural partying co-operative states.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
They have been wandering for decades
Journeying to the land that was promised by their forefathers
A land that would seal the faith of future generations.
They rove night and day guided by a single pillar of light
Looking for the land that was just minutes within sight
But faith had them wondering and pondering
Meandering up steep hills and giant rocks
Roaming around mountain and caves
Looking for that sacred spot.
But they could not find their way home
The road that leads home was covered with tall thick giant grass
Blade as wide as the palm of my hands overshadowed the path
And the visible eyes could not perceive it
Only the spirit of God could reveal it.
Suddenly a bulldozer appears,
And a little man holding the levers
Reversed it back and forth and leveled the dense path
That leads to a dead end spot in the middle of the town.
The bulldozer could not handled the thick mass of grass
That forms little mountains on that anguished path.
Determination kept the bulldozer rolling along.
It pushed and scraped until it leveled the towering grass
That connects the main road to an asphalted road.
Without warning the bulldozer blade broke off in a circular hole
And the little man came from behind the levers and peeped into
the hole and grumbled that he has strained his back.
All of a sudden two men with machetes appeared
And start copping around several mounds
Close to that very spot potato vine sprouted
With blossom forming an archive in the air
potatoes ready for reaping hangs from
vines that juxtapose with blossoms.
The machete man exclaimed
He peered at vines and leaves above
And discovered that the abandoned path is guarded
By a gigantic wasp nest with thousands of wasps standing guards.
They hang from branches and form clusters
that appear as brown potatato blossom
Laying wait in silence to attack their preys
in the patch of bush that surround the mounds.
But they were exposed and dismantled
just before the break of dawn.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2014
How can geographic points for interaction
and socializing become haram?
Catching up with the flying time
and constant upgrade in civilization process;
these too are also haram?
Is seeking knowledge and applying
understanding haram too?
Funny enough, a particular 'god'
gives his affirmation to this
way of stone age enslaving way of living.
Females with males on the same platform
and their significance and huge role
in a modern society is so haram.
'must', 'force' and compulsion; their coat of arm.
dialogue and democracy abominations and canal.
In short, all are considered haram.
Spoken words without submission;
submission without worship and reverence;
reverence not to a supreme called 'Allah'
enough reasons, for death to shop on souls.
Free will, liberty and freedom;
worst of all, the right to live
have now been considered haram.
Even with such a babaric ideology
They forget that.......................................
the use of communicating devices is haram
why use video clips and satellite cells
instead of crows and birds?
They forget that.........................................
the use of bombs and weapons
of mass destruction is haram.
Why not use stones and bare fighting skills?
Even the bow and arrow
are invention of knowledge and science!
They forget that............................................
machines and wheels are also haram.
Why not use camels and horses?
They forget that..........................................
the cotton and silk they wear are haram.
Why not use leaves and animal skin?
The same ideology they propagate
is the same they contradict
leaving them with absolutely no excuse
and gross foolishness in committing
these huge crimes against humanity.
This is not a war,
yet we have prisoners and girl slaves?
We aren't in the battle field
yet people are dying in mass and numbers?
Holy smoke! This is the 21st century for goodness sake...
yet we are compelled to
live beneath stones and
find warmth beside raw fires?
Woe unto you, masters of terror!
don't forget that after a time cycle
another hour immediately begins.
You'll be caught up with your deeds
and the whole of nature will spit on your existence.
Life has been sweet, mysterious
and full of hope like an expectant mother.
Even though you've succeeded
in making it a blind date;
we'll face the occasion with hope
never giving up
on the final sight of a beautiful new acquaintance.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014
NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
SAY ADIEU TO EUROPE AS IT EDDIES TO THE DRAIN
THE DEMISE WILL BE SLOW WITH BLOOD WITH PAIN
THERE IS AN INVASION ALL EUROPE IS UNDER SIEGE
BY DEDICATED JIHADISTS DISGUISED AS REFUGEES
THEY WILL SLOWLY COLONIZE INTO URBAN CENTERS
OBEYING SHARIAH DEMANDED BY THEIR MENTORS
THEY WILL REFUSE TO ACCEPT LOCAL TRADITIONS
AMASS LARGE AREAS FOR ISLAMIC IMPOSITIONS
ESTABLISH NO GO ZONES TABOO FOR THE LOCALS
CALL TO PRAYER RITUALS WITH ARABIC VOCALS
ONCE SETTLED WILL COME CONSTANT AGITATIONS
CAUSING RIOTS AND UNENDING PROVOCATIONS
AVOIDING BEING CALLED RACIST LOCALS CEDE
YIELDING TRADITIONS TO SATE INVADERS’ NEED
LOOKING AROUND OSLO YOU’LL THINK ITS IRAN
WHERE HAVE ALL THE FLAXEN HAIRED BEAUTIES GONE
THEY’RE IN HIDING AVOIDING THE LEWD FOCUS
OF MEDIEVAL SAVAGES THE MODERN DAY LOCUSTS
EVENTUALLY THE LOCALS WILL BECOME AWARE
BUT IT MAY COME LATE FOR THOSE IN DESPAIR
IMPORTANT TO RECOGNIZE GENEROSITIES WOES
OFFERED TO INGRATES THAT ARE IDEOLOGICAL FOES
HOUSING, FOOD AND FREEDOM IS OPENLY FURNISHED
A JOYOUS SPIRIT OF GOODWILL FOREVER TARNISHED
Copyright © John Arribas | Year Posted 2015
I wake up and shower,
look at myself in the mirror,
And say "What the? Where did the time go?"
Copyright © Jack Elly | Year Posted 2016
Love and Follow Muhammad
(SallAllahu 'alaihi wa sallam)
If you ask me, why do I love him, the
Prophet Muhammad (May Peace be upon him) -
I love him because he cared about us
Muslims, and loving him is a condition –
If you love Allah, then love the Prophet
Muhammad – Allah loved him very much.
He was Allah's Final Messenger, and
The hearts of many did his mercy touch.
His beautiful character makes me admire
Him – his trustworthiness and honesty –
Even before he became God's Prophet,
Disbelievers knew that he was trustworthy.
I love the Prophet Muhammad because
Of good manners he was the best example.
I love how he was patient throughout his life
And how his morals were never skeptical.
He cared about his nation too, thus he taught
Us what we should know about our religion.
When given the chance he'd always educate,
Blessing us with advice through his companions.
As a father and grandfather, the Prophet
Muhammad was kind and tender loving.
His mercy to the poor, widows and orphans –
His good treatment of them is too astounding.
His tolerance, even to non-Muslim
Neighbors, is also something to be admired.
His mercy too was further manifest
Through his kind treatment of the slaves he hired.
As a leader – he was charismatic,
As a warrior – marked with strength and bravery,
As a family man – full of mercy,
And a husband who treated his wives fairly –
===> Part Two
Note: As a Muslim I believe in all of God's Prophets from Adam to Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Ishmael, David, Solomon, Moses, Jesus and the final Messenger Muhammad may God's Peace and Blessings be on them all, they were all sent with the same message: to invite/call on others to believe in the One and Only God (Allah: The God -in Arabic) the God of everything and everyone :)
Copyright © Mariam M. | Year Posted 2014
It appeared on the doorpost as a Cyclops' smiley face
For some Cyclops WhatsApp icon, but red-themed application
Yes gruesome red, in contrast to the expectation
You would get from a smiley face, even for a Cyclops.
It quizzed my curiosity and I dug further on Google’s interface.
It appeared on the search page as the queen Isis,
Long told in Hieroglyphics, Cyrillic and Roman alphabet,
Patroness, mother, queen, blessings with love met,
But unlike these grim Arabic script in an ominous logo,
And tales of death, pain littered with deeper crises
It told of “nuun”, 14th letter of a blessed script
In which many beautiful and wise thoughts found life,
A letter which told of blessing and not of strife
Being in a position multiple of seven, a number blessed
By God Himself when he Earth and Heaven in 7 breaths whipped
It told of the Magen David, a shining star, which should be a good thing
Only that it brings memories of gaunt bodies piled in trucks
And human experimentation, and as history at our door knocks
And Isis or Isil opens to let in what we dread most
“Nuun” is stuck in my iris with pain and scary sting.
For I have seen the blank stare of heads painting in red drips the pickets
And Leonidas’ 300-style gore re-enacted in modern city streets
As heads are divorced from bodies and all around are scared heartbeats
For even bloodied child clothes cover head-less bodies,
As Christians are beheaded like one would roast crickets.
It brings back memories of my ancestors up in the Samba regions,
Fleeing the harsh choice given to them by the jihadists:
To adorn the village picket or join the cause of the Islamist,
Forced to create a third choice, which was to leave their homes,
Friends and family to pseudo-Islam or lurid lethal lesions.
Is it that time again for Iraqi Christians?
Shall the world once again watch the Red Indians’,Tutsis’, and Jews’
Story take gruesome form and hack through human sinews?
How many litres of innocent blood, and kilogrammes of hacked Christian flesh
Are needed to realise the vanity in the life of Homo sapiens?
Copyright © Nyonglema Pisoh | Year Posted 2014
As we departed for a long journey,
My heart punned with jocundity,
Had heard a lot about its beauty,
But didn’t know, will ‘be welcomed so haughtily,
As I propelled on non-native soil,
It seemed so preposterously royal,
Still there, ah I missed my home,
Oh where I could fearlessly roam,
Where the noise of rickshaws,
It seems so soothing the way it draws!
Where we wait for that oily heavy breakfast,
While licking my fingers I bet! I in contrast!
They pour so oil in them that would‘ve surpassed
The oil in deep ocean … that America cast!
They call east is submerged into Spirituality’s aptness
No but it is more traditional I say, tooting my profoundness!
Here nobody would be bothered if found felonious,
But if disobeyed family, would be considered vicious.
I’m telling you about the preciousness of my land,
About the norms people engulf, in my homeland,
We gather now and then to celebrate,
The loves we give each other, make us grate,
In my home, neighbors are never left alone,
Such a hospitality inn! Greeted as are our own
Girls wear the shirts, better shawled,
Which west calls modest but I say,
These are the values, in which they are mold,
These are our norms practiced since Islam borne!
Please don’t turn over from its today’s view
it still is the paradise though dark, I construe!
Copyright © HINA NASIR | Year Posted 2014
All to go
I to go
we to go
you to go
& all to must hereafter.
I to do
we to do
you to do
all to must good deeds
Copyright © Foysal Khan | Year Posted 2014