blog

a masterpiece pieced together
by strong man hands.
he was craftsman.
an artist pain.ting shades of beautiful.
his art even induced chills in him.
a canvas meant only for his hands to harass-
to coerce into beauty
whether willingly or complacently,
the art never complained.
pale canvass skin succumbed to his hold
and held still allowing him to pain.t pictures
pictures of pain and angst
of love and hurt
of dissatisfaction and insecurity
of what is holy and what is heart achy.
He always washed before beginning.
BismilLah
wash face
::forehead to chin
BismilLah
wash finger tips
::to elbow’s bend
BismilLah
brush over hair
BismilLah
wash toes to ankles
Began in the name of God
maintaining that he-
seemingly-
submitted to
true hierarchy.
scripture “instructed” him to pain.t
and so he did – glad to…obey.
so his hands slid::collided:::crashed
into canvass.
She purred through the pressure of this process
to have a master paint upon her…
favoring!
so she bore it as best she could.
His hungry eyes-
devouring this coloring-
mouth salivating
at the thought of beating upon flesh
of light skinned canvass.
His mind wandered in wonder
at what shape his masterpiece
would take tomorrow
because everyday
was so different.
:::::::
Fists flash forward into canvass.
leaving 8 perfect imprintations
reveling in dirtying hands
-seeking salvation
through pain.ting.
He fantasized about
beautifying her all day.
He painted her in shades of red first.
Deep reds rushing to skin’s surface.
pulsing only the way red can.
purple followed pink and red.
tender to the touch at purple.
He marveled at his mastery most at this stage.
It made his heart race-
it made his palms sweet with sweat
sweet sweat – in obedience of God.
It made his face light up.
purple into black and blue
He thrived on these hues.
canvass & wife.
A record keeper of his beastly behavior.
She is a masterpiece of patience
that will stand on the last day,
as a testament
to his
unintelligent
irrational
revolting
misinterpretation.
On the last day,
those strokes-
his hues
will haunt him
on his way to hell.

The Prophet never struck a woman. Never. peace, mercy and blessings be upon our sweet and gentle perfect example.

he sat there scheming.
teaming up with my friends
and his boys
to make me his girl.
said he wanted to wife me.
said i was just so so wifey-
material.
asked me where i came from.
asked me where he found me.
how i didnt exist before
and then i materialized into his world.
and my heart got taken completely
just like that
just with those sweet
saturated splendid words
thick in feel like honey
deep in hue like it too

—it was straight natural

but we were made of different material
he got his way
and i didn’t care
and he cared that i didn’t care
so he cared for the both of us
but more than that
it was material-
we bickered like birds
but my bite was always
weaker than his bark
with our backgrounds different like stark.

differently orchestrated
colossally incompatible
because of material.
and so we sustained stains
on the part of our brain
where love lived.
see, it was mental
too tempermental
when it came to him
but it turned out
love was just out on rental-
or on bail…
i never could tell.
and so we sustained brain damage
of that collateral kind…
:::my heart:::
:::his ego:::

cuz most times
he just dint have a heart
self proclaimed stone heart man
at least thats what
the natives of his land
named him
and he so claimed them
and so there too we differed,
i didn’t belong
and he was the leader.
i stood apart
and he played the biggest part
told the underground truth
after the lie
and so the proof
to his truth
was wounded
beyond
my doctoring capabilities
and so we
clahhhhhhssssssssshhhhhhed
but husshhhhhhhh
little baby
no more tears-
he freed me of all me fears
trained me for years
to see
that he wasn’t ever
worth
the salt coated lips
that came from
too much thinkin
of him.

love was this story’s collateral damage
they stood in our way
but in the end
it wasnt west vs. east
it was you
my beautiful beast.
you stood in our way
and so today
we stand apart

so preoccupied with now,
can’t see a later.
obsessed with what is,
rather than what could be.
now passes,
and becomes a past tense then.
If we had any sense
we would choose
the future tense
more often than
more often than
more often than
we do.

i see how problematic it all is-
because in the end,
all i have is then.

when hearts are exposed,
and souls are uncomposed.
in:con:soul:able because
we enable our selves
to con ourselves
out of a future free
of able vs. unable
lawful vs. unlawful.
conning souls
out of real satisfaction.
out of bliss that is not
fleeting or fading.
with our cunning
cliches for excuses.
they slip out of our mouths,
as if they had been
waiting
watching
for a moment
full of choice in now.

when hearts are exposed
and souls are InConSoulAble
because of choices in favor of now
when shame beats red
on faces of those
who forsook future
feverish faces,
flushed- in remembrance
of past passion
once now,
now, then.

let it be later.
give me mine later
i want mine later.
tomorrow i may tell you different
but only because i am impatient.
forgive my fleeting compulsion to follow impulse.
but know as i know only You know,
that my true desire
lays in later.
please. let me be one who follows
even when it sounds odd.
let my face be cleansed
with cool wudoo water
freeing me of fever
that forces me –
even when it feels like forever,
to act disdainfully accordingly.
truth will always be odd in an
dishonest world-
when mouths are dishonest,
to lie is the worst of sins to this sinner.
the only quality that can take
all the other characteristics
of a character
and make them lack all things redeemable.
just one lie.
just one.
let my mouth be a source of real.
let it be my salvation to later.
let it be on my side in the day
that hearts are exposed.
let it speak for me
let it attest to the truth-
that i chose later.
please.
i plead to be
of the odd-
the rare,
the ones who choose later.

*inconsolable: being in an able state to con one’s soul. (out of fitra)

Imam Zaid

roses sky faced
to catch heaven’s scent,
when it’s sent.

when glorious angels
lay on petals
in pearly bubbles.

ssssubhan, He is.
sending glistening silver.
awe, inspiring those “ooooh good” shivers

I only pick ’em bad. but:
I pick the bad ones- Real Good.
last one was the best bad-
so really I’m gettin’ better:
at pickin’ ’em bad.

We all know that He loves us one and all;
Yet there are times when we find an answer
Another’s voice and call;
But if we’re willing, He will teach us,
His voice only to obey no matter,
And He knows;
yes, He knows,
Just how much we can bear.

Though the load gets so heavy
We’re never left alone to bear it all;
We just ask for strength Lord and we keep on toiling,
Though the teardrops fall.
We have the joy of your assurance;
Oh Lord you will always answer prayer,
And He knows; yes, He knows,
Just how much we can bear.

(This is from a live recording of Prince singing Nothing Compares to You. Once I figure out the technical- will upload it for your listening pleasure.)

“In these times, so turbulent, we have got to learn, to find and learn to love each other. Might seem cliche, but look around you- there are men, and there are women, but thats a difference. I don’t want to talk about differences tonight….I want to talk about similarities. I want to talk about the reasons that we are the same.

In your neighborhoods, you’ve got 20 different churches in a one mile radius. That would be a difference, and you say “well we’re all worshiping God.” I don’t know….

That would be a difference. I didn’t come here to talk about that tonight. I came to talk about similarities.

How many in here love God?

How many in here worship God?

How many in here know God’s name?

Well His name is God, That’s what you said. That would be a similarity. amongst you, not me.

I wana talk about a difference tonight. I’ll talk about this difference and lets see if we can agree. Because thats what its about- agreement, harmony….

Was God’s name important to Jesus?

Master! Teach us how to pray!

Let your name be sanctified!

We must learn His name so that we may meet in a higher place- other than this disagreement. We will meet together in agreement- and that is the truth!

What is the meaning of life?

The fact that God has the right, the sovereign right, to rule mankind for all eternity. Him being the Creator, He’s going tell us how it’s going to end. He made it!”

White, Black Puerto Rican, men, women, rich, poor. all of these are differences, the similarity is that when you cut us, we all bleed the same.”

http://www.pbs.org/kcet/tavissmiley/archive/200904/20090427_prince.html