Skinny in youth thick in later days
Champion for truth despite delays
As a late bloomer in thought process
Born to a baby boomer and so blessed
Believed in God but didn’t get much church
Felt so odd how the church clicks work
Rather open to explore other fuchsia faiths
Went to the mosque just couldn’t be great
And with Buddhism she felt all a glow
But she still identified as a Christian so
Perhaps it’s true train up a child
But her training was unique and mild
For she recalled Bootsy’s Rubber Band
And Stevie Nicks, Stevie Wonder on hand
Music was the church in her life
She was a cool nerd never a wife
A poet who sucked at math in her head
But like a mom stretched a penny till it’s dead
Had many jobs, but a mom and proud to be
Not afraid of death for it is purple peace
Categories:
mosque, america, appreciation, bereavement,
Form: Bio
I'm fading away to oblivion
Fates lead me to having a heart made of obsidian
Shatters easily but cuts deep
I'm feeling so weak, I can't believe it's been weeks
Since we last had the chance to see
Each other, its tearing me apart
You're about to be my baby mother, and I don't know where you are
We met after a year, sometime last summer
Now we're apart, you've got a piece of me
More than just my heart, I wish that I had you
I get that the things I said made you mad boo
But don't you miss what we had?
Do you ever think of the past
All of the good memories, because they outweigh the bad
Categories:
mosque, loss, love hurts,
Form: Free verse
Because of mosque kettles,
Mama stay because
Grammar loves you,
I will sell for a billion trillion dealion peppers
Tricked for a thousand years,
Ask Babangida or Buhari,
They dine at the throne and palace,
While we pay subservience at their feet,
We went in with tools,
Came out with rules
With His sons,
Drank holy communion,
Which healed them of Corona Virus
Categories:
mosque, abuse, africa, anger, betrayal,
Form: Rhyme
In translucent silence
sapphire-capped minarets
stand like ardent rose buds
under glint of a firefly moon.
Gone are birds of day
like ruby breasted dawn
spilling ashes of roses
on a saffron horizon,
rhododendrons and azaleas floating
up high to burnish
the mosque's ghosted towers.
Through night's brisk lapis
the hushed teal dome bides
wafting apple breezes
as walls and turrets lumber,
shielding the tiled plaza
until morning steeps the landscape
in the aura of peacocks.
Categories:
mosque, color, imagery, night,
Form: Ekphrasis
The holy sermon reverberates
across the mosque
I see rowdy boys in uniform fooling
They gather in cliques at the back row
And what radiates from their vicinity
an aura, that makes the lord's home
akin to a playing ground
where ungodly names are tossed around
sounds of trivial chatter, left and right
just an exasperating game
of hitting and shoving thy neighbours
The will of God, present,
in this place of worship
Fear coerced these idle men
scattered on Persian rugs
sitting with legs crossed
head on their wobbly hand, dozing off
Their body would jolt
awakening their sleep
to which they will tell themselves
the presence of body excuses
the absence of mind
as long as the depths of hell
is always dim in thought
And so they relapse into deeper slumber
The preacher expounds the
divine signal
These words means it's time
for movement to be commanded
Never have I understood
what they were meant to say
But oh have I memorized what
I am to do
Thus, I raise my hands
high to the empty sky
posture my palms towards my face
murmur words that make no sense
and just follow what everyone else is doing
Anyway
I'm off to pray
Categories:
mosque, allah, faith, god, islamic,
Form: Free verse
UhUhUh! Even cattle on sunny hot days
Feel suffocation
Inside windows-doors-shut sheds
(yes! i have seen it, how their eyes bulge out and redden,
And they take deep sighs,
And look perplexed in fear.)
And no one! no one! minds it, here
In this huge crowd!
Even this arrogant hands-raising-high
Moulvi...
Oh! I get angry
But soon i cool down,
As it quickly comes to my mind, the old saying,
"As is the preacher So art his listeners."
Categories:
mosque, satire,
Form: Free verse
CIA & the NYPD’s got a thing for hassling those who
get down on their knees to “pray” to one kind of
fiction, as opposed to another---
in Jersey,
they got a way of always being around when
Jersey muslims are trying to dwell in a specific delusion
on their own, whilst good ol’ christians get nothing of the
sort---
saying that islam = violence
without recognizing the violence that
christianity
has thwarted (and continues to thwart) upon the world,
or for that matter
any religion, whose members at one time or another
have found reason to try & convert others to their way of
thinking,
be it with the sword or the ak-47,
is both ignorant & more dangerous than the supposed
terrorists that feds are seeking in one community,
forgetting the rest.
all religion inspires insanity
all religion allows a person to think that there is something greater
than this one world in which we coexist &
that the destruction of all humanity,
if needed by said deity,
would be a small price to pay
to get whatever gold star is promised---
if you are going to hassle one group of lunatics
for practicing their lunacy,
then you need to be hassling them all.
Categories:
mosque, life, religion, violence,
Form: Free verse
Will you break off with me,
my beloved,
morsel for morsel laddu*?
My dream doesn’t come to me,
my bed is divided,
my heart – dry,
fire is rankling me.
You’ll regret,
my beloved,
if you taste it –
outside it’s sweet
inside – bitter.
Twice more,
my beloved,
your tear will run fast
if you pass me by scornfully.
In my chest
I wear a diamond of snake,
a lion-hair on my wrist,
a wealth of Brahman
in my head.
Will someone take them, gifted
someone else but my death?
Ah, my beloved,
marry me.
*a round syrup sweet made of gram floor
Categories:
mosque, love
Form: Free verse
Await the zenith of the sun,
cross clay courtyard a beckoning
barefoot walked, heartstring undone,
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
Soundless clarion of tears fall
toward absolution’s bright blessing,
within the domed sabil I call...
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
The fountain's dry, but not my eyes
sounds of grace rebound, amazing,
Amazing Grace, sang such as I
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
We are but one beneath the sun
for all our fears and wandering
all creation our companion...
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
Let spirit rise on minaret
and phantom penitents come hieing
all is well, we are God’s get
Oh Lord, there’s love, no reckoning.
Peace is not a relationship of nations. It is a condition of mind brought about by a serenity of soul. Peace is not merely the absence of war. It is also a state of mind. Lasting peace can come only to peaceful people.
Jawaharlal Nehru (1889 - 1964)
Categories:
mosque, adventure, allegory, angst, devotion,
Form: Kyrielle