Deliberative Contemplation

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Emma Florence Harrison ( 1877–1955)

Pride is her sin

Bless the revolutionary road

The youthful dreams churning within

Haunted by ghostish whispers

In a fictional world of her own creation

Had she mastered the bliss of humbleness

Conquest of wisdom would have been her daily ritual

A free spirit she is

Pushed the freedom button, lit crimson ambition onto her records

Diven into the jaw of the monstrous sea

Sailed away on a lonely journey towards one of the coldest wests

What easted east and wested west

One man lied to geography and so history followed

Music is her wine

Dancing in the flames of endless joy and pain of choices, and the in-betweens

Oh, how painful are the in-betweens

Misguided in the realm of endless doubt

Between right and wrong lies an eternal drought of faith

Bound by fate …. an untiable bond

A fateful obligation to utter submission to …. fate

Who can escape their fate

Fate or destiny or God, can we differentiate, before the end draws near,

Can we negotiate what would our fate become, before clean slates are definitely erased

A mountain of deeds hides underneath her troubled conscience

Good or bad, even when intentions are resolute, actions deviate

The good, the bad and the ugly reside in every particle of human race

Are choices predetermined or free-willed, our thoughts tirelessly race

Pride is a sin among many others

The old man said: “unsheathe your sword in the face of temptation”

“Against your heart, ignite a revolution”

“Remember, repentance remains the man’s sole road to salvation”

Whether atonement for wrongdoing is a predetermination or choice

Forgetfulness stays a curse and a solace

There’s an insatiable curiosity about the purpose of man’s existence

As men fall for their causes – soon she’d fall too

Perfectionism is a myth when death hour strikes too soon

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Losing My Ithaca/Ethica

The Original Ithaca by Constantine P. Cavafy

Once upon a time I stumbled upon an Ithaca

Like butterflies, I flew in the air searching for a temptous nectar

I set out on a land where Ithaca was far and near like a shooting star

Cut the miles, trooped its length and width, till I reached

God knows how hard I shook it, till all doors had flung open before me

I felt the rush of the Atlantic had sworn to off the face of the earth wipe my existence

Even though I was forced by the mighty gravity to the deepest depth of the blue

I miraculously surfaced my glooms

Bitter taste of victory whirled in my world like a dizzying dance of a whirling dervish

I crumbled in my own temple of Ithacas

Woke up to a festival of crumbled ones

Losing ithica, after ithaca

So many seeping through my tightest slots of patience

As a nail crowns your finger, Ithaca covers me

I preach it in my poetic salon

Enchanted other heretics seem to be by my desperate delusions

In a world Ithacas are benevolent works of divinities

I am haunted by my fear of my fear

Who could be more helpless than a running deer from the monster’s claws

Only a human

With too little strength to die for an Ithaca, with an Ithaca, like an Ithaca

 

 

 

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Once upon a time I stumbled upon an Ithaca

Like butterflies, I flew in the air searching for a temptous nectar

I set out on a land where Ithaca was far and near like a shooting star

Cut the miles, trooped its length and width, till I reached

God knows how hard I shook it, till all doors had flung open before me

I felt the rush of the Atlantic had sworn to off the face of the earth wipe my existence

Even though I was forced by the mighty gravity to the deepest depth of the blue

I miraculously surfaced my glooms

Bitter taste of victory whirled in my world like a dizzying dance of a whirling dervish

I crumbled in my own temple of Ithacas

Woke up to a festival of crumbled ones

Losing ithica, after ithaca

So many seeping through my tightest slots of patience

As a nail crowns your finger, Ithaca covers me

I preach it in my poetic salon

Enchanted other heretics seem to be by my desperate delusions

In a world Ithacas are benevolent works of divinities

I am haunted by my fear of my fear

Who could be more helpless than a running deer from the monster’s claws

Only a human

With too little strength to die for an Ithaca, with an Ithaca, like an Ithaca

Inspired by the original Ithaca by Constantine P. Cavafy

The Day I Raged

I woke up to a burning sunlight

Silenced howling fear within me

Stood tall before you

Driven by the monster of your creation in me

Your power outweighs mine

But my passion for this blessed land can flood gold mines

You confuse patience with humiliation

I know I had to correct you

Teaching you the hard way about re-exploring me

Is what you taught me all through our history

Too late when I lived years licking your stinky shoes

Kicked my pride across corners of your corrupt capital

Wore my heart on my sleeve

Dived into my brothers waves of anger

Wouldn’t care less if my neck is what your mad dogs chase after

No, its not their revolution

It is their revolution, plus my revolution and our bloody anger

Waited longer than camels in Sahara without water

Maybe I am a speaking animal but my thirst won’t stand any longer

Because of you I am a walking encyclopedia of human mockery

They laugh at me, beat me, crucify me, kill me and turn my ashes into their wine pottery

Haven’t you had enough of this insanity?

I feel sorry for the day you and I stand before Him

We’d both negotiate mercy

The one that seemed like rain in the desert on one of your drought days

I trust there would be no bleaker than a tyrant’s destiny

You should know

One true death awaits me

Don’t care if my raging shakes our fake complacency

I shall die – pride is my best ally

Promise kneeling no more before the false deity

May Kosba

That Day I Raged – Onislam.net (Fine Arts)

Kianga Ellis reading

 

Symphonic Sin

Stripping amid the chaos in the journey leading to reason

No questioning where grace had fallen

Grace or faith – beware multiple thoughts induce confusion

Stars in the skies shall erase the glooms of illusions

My heart’s unrest temporarily sedated

Bidden welcome by my beloved music

Reminds me of Him albeit the ancient promise of delusions

A believer could not wander around with faith so delusive

Fragmented between devotion and music

Could music really steal away devotion?

Devotion is parentless in a poor assessment

You are either a devoted believer in worshipping God or His music

I am a worshipper of God – music lies among my rituals

Would I be a hypocrite to give in to the enchantment of his creation?

I am a creature in love with another creature

Together we prostrate sublimely to our Creator

A Sufi combines no love of any creature with the Most Gracious

Music is one way to mercy which He offers ardently spacious

My heart is a wonderland in a human box

You’d see midgets and giants racing or in harmony

Constantly rides a carousel of emotions and careless whispers

Don’t chuckle at my strife – yours next I see coming from a short distance

Violin stick plays upon my heart thousand melodies of pain

You may hear them from a distance shedding mayhems

Don’t be fooled by my grizzly chanting

Humming is what plays in the background

Affirming failure or perhaps handing a tourniquet to the bleeding poet  

Humming sounds like drumming of warfare waits to breakout

Alien troops marching to the land long peace-deprived

No … No … No

Cast out those monstrous fears – soon to eat your conscience alive

Dance along with the wolves in the pitch darkness of your nights

Clutch at a straw when the waves of the crazy ocean reach their highs

Float in space with your music until your soul lands peacefully in the Most Gracious’s skies

May K.

P.S. preferably read while listening to this tune

Water

If I had the liberty to choose prior to my creation – I would be water – the liquid, the term, the definition, the force and the feebleness.

I would be abundant and scarce – steep and deep –  rain, hail and overwhelm, contain – never contained, rush and sweep – shallow and deceptive – enliven and kill – freeze – melt and boil.

Only time controls me – temperature never withhold me.

I would run in the fields racing against the wind – challenging the heat of the sun to hurry immerse the lands before it dry up and ruin the tired man’s harvest.

I would drown the traitor and float the believer.

There will be times I am pure and times I stink. There will be times I am smooth as silk and times my roars frighten the king of the jungle.

There will be times I’ll be greater than any other creation on earth, even the giants of mountains I bear them in my boundless belly and eat them, slowly.

Man knows its only a matter of time.

I’ll be the intruder, the earth’s indispensible partner.

I’ll be the world’s hooker quench whoever pays fat and better.

I will fail to live up to my end of the bargain, I dry, I disappear – they shed their blood over me and I keep vanishing,  as much as I will flood far beyond man’s capacity.

I rush – keep rushing to where those thinking creatures can’t trace me or detain me or drink me or bottle me or pollute me.

I am free and shall remain that. The only reason I can’t satisfy them is I’m bloodless, soulless.

I am only water…

May