cold & alone

people don’t pay me any more notice than a speck of dust floating past their face

i’m just a fly, that they swat away

just another dog in the street

a cat rummaging through their garbage

another face in the crowd

a face with no name


the invisible man:

visible, in fact, but unworthy of notice

people be on the internet all day- facebook, email, chat-  but not for me

they busy wit’ somebody

but that somebody ain’t me

guess i’m nobody

no, i am somebody

just somebody

never anybody


thank you for saying that

really, i ‘preciate it

it’s nice of you

but we all know it ain’t true


oh, do they?

who?  ain’t nobody called my phone

i’m sure they re-charge their pre-paid or pay a monthly bill, so that means they call somebody

so you’re tellin’ me people don’t call people they love?

who do they call, then?  niggas they don’t care about?


when’d that start?

or is it only just for me?

guess I am special


yeah, well, i guess that’s true

but this isn’t about what i’ve done

it’s about who i am


i’m not depressed;  i’m real

you should be, too

don’t send an email back

don’t call or text me now

really, it would only make it more true

just… be you, who you are right now

keep doin’ what you’re doin’

you’re obviously better off without me

and i don’t mind

i’m fine

i’m honest;  it’s good to be


i’m not suicidal

don’t be dramatic

this isn’t TV

i love life, and my little family’s learning to love it alone


you know, i used to wanna be famous

but not now

i’m gonna do my best to not get famous, just to make sure niggas don’t start contactin’ me

it wouldn’t mean anything then if it wasn’t happening now

and it isn’t


no, don’t worry about me

i ain’t bitter or mad

it’s all good




i’m gonna go now

to sit in my room

on the hard floor with the lights off


cold & alone

the withering Whether


in the Mourning

no Thing dared to be seen

saw you sighing in silent Scenes, bring

Stills to Life


when It was What It isn’t

the Mist in the Midst wasn’t mystic

It seemed set aside


in the Dawn

when there only was Time

what i saw you with wasn’t Light

when Wind took my Eyes

to you


in the Fall

in the Winter

when Whether, It threatens to wither, the

Chill grows inside



© al-Qãhırıï

i thought that i was living all along but i was wrong… (my improbable journey to Islam & a lot of other places, part II)

Little did I know where it would take me. I landed in Perth, as far from Sydney as I could afford, and tried my luck with a hostel that promised a job. I needed a change. I needed to change. My logic was that the further I was from everything and everyone I knew, the easier it would be. After a while I met a Dutch guy who was driving around Australia from Sydney to Sydney. He invited me to the rest of the journey. I said I didn’t have enough money. He said he didn’t either, when we ran out of dough we’d just pick fruit or some other work. So I said why not, and we recruited two others and began.

What I saw was more than a frame should attempt to hold, wonders so beautiful that they only belong in the heart, and so permanent that nothing is lost if they’re forgotten. What I felt was absolute freedom- no cellphone reception, no task except our next target, no walls except the horizon. We went to places where the only signs of human life were us. There was Shell Beach, whose name is self-explanatory. We visited the Pinnacles, a white sand field where meters-tall calcium deposits stand as the sole survivors of millennia of erosion. We even saw a shark, just a baby who didn’t know where it was supposed to be hunting, but I met a surfie who had seen her friend get snatched off of his surfboard by a Great White. And kangaroos. They were like deer in Texas, in the desert, on the beach, everywhere. Sunsets replaced television, and the moon and stars, freed from their competition with city lights, reassumed their natural role. And yeah, I picked a lot of fruit, canteloupes and capsicum to be exact. I even did 3 weeks as a glassie in a bar. This was a 3-month trip, mind you.

But what impressed me the most were the signs. Everything I saw was awakening thoughts in my mind. Everything was too beautiful, too calm, too perfect and utterly real to be a mistake. I started to see the order and notice the cycles of living and life, and realized that I could have died before I’d ever lived. In fact, I realized that I had been dead to a higher reality that I was just beginning to awaken to like a sleeping man jolted fully awake by a tremendous roar of thunder. My heart was racing. My mind was reeling. I was filled with two sentiments. One was shame and guilt at the death I’d been living.

The other was God.

Who, after all, decreed the ‘laws’ of physics and nature? How are such laws maintained to immutability? Where, to refer to the Big Bang Theory, did that infinitesimally dense particle of matter come from? Why, if you think about it, did explode at all? Why did it explode exactly when it did, instead of not later or sooner? Who provided the force behind its explosion? Most of all and after all, why?

Didn’t there have to be a one wise with all wisdom? An undeniable authority? An independent creator and source? One who sets time and is at the same time free from it? An unsurpassable power and strength? A chooser with the power to fully execute any choice? A love eternal and unconditional?

At my furthest straying, I’d never stopped believing. But I’d forgotten that I believed. And I was born into my fading beliefs, I’d never consciously chosen them. Now, I asked myself, as I thought of the thousand nights of parties that celebrated nothing, filled with fake friends covering our misery with fake smiles, hiding our isolation behind smoke, drowning our thoughts in music, gyrating our tormented selves as we blinded our consciences with poison. Now, why do I believe in one thing and not give it time or energy, and not believe in another, but give it all I’ve got?
My life was completely backwards. I’d wasted all of it. But one thing gave me hope in all the despair

I was still alive, more than ever and for the first time…

uluru uhuru

nothing’s so fast
as choosing your own path
further we fled
breathing peace after being dead
and it’s not just uluru
it’s that and everything
every little thing

take your turn, your turn others take
as we share this air, so we share this fate
and the water’s clear for the coral’s sake
not a single soul can the whole earth sate

wake by sunrise
when it sets we die
so we live each life
like the first and final tide
and it’s name’s not ayer’s rock
’cause he don’t own a single thing
noone owns a thing

take your turn, another’s turn take
as we share this air, so we share this day
and the water’s clear for the coral’s sake
not a single soul can the whole world sate

even birds understand:
it’s more than just songs that they sing
at the end of the road that’s paved for me
there’s nothin’ but me

* “uluru” is the pitjantjatjara name of ayer’s rock, australia’s inselberg of many colors
* “uhuru” is swahili for “freedom”

what Islam is

It is your Guardian-Cherisher, Allah

It is the Life of Muhammad

It is the Recitation, full of Wisdom

It is Those arranged in Ranks, and Those who repulse, and Those who read out the Remembrance

It is the Recitation, full of Warnings

It is the manifest Book

It is the Book that makes things clear

It is the glorious Recitation

It is the Those that scatter, and the Those heavily burdened, and Those floating with gentle ease, and Those that distribute by Command

It is the Sky with its numerous Paths

It is the Lord of the Sky and the Earth

It is the Mount, and a Book inscribed, and a Scroll unfolded, and the House much frequented, and the Canopy upraised, and the Sea filled with swell

It is the Star when It sets

It is the Setting of the Stars

It is the Pen and what They write

It is Whatsoever you see, and Whatsoever you see not

It is the Lord of the Points of Sunrise in the East and Sunset in the West

It is the Moon, and the Night when It withdraws, and the Dawn

It s the day of Resurrection, and the self-critical Soul

It is those who are sent one after another, then blow violently

It is those that scatter things far and wide, then separate them one from another, then bring the Reminder that excuses or warns

It is Those who tear out violently, and Those who pull out gently, Those who swim along, and Those who race forward, and those who arrange to complete Commands

It is when the Sun is wound around Itself

It is when the Stars have fallen

It is when the Mountains have vanished

It is when the She-Camels about to deliver are neglected

It is when the wild Beasts are herded together

It is when the Seas blaze and overflow

It is when the Souls are joined

It is when the female infant (buried alive) is asked for what sin she was killed

It is when the Pages are laid open

It is when the Sky is unveiled

It is when Hell is set ablaze

It is when the Garden is brought near

It is when the Sky is torn apart, and the Planets are scattered from their Orbits, and the Seas are surged forth, and the Graves are overturned

It is when the Sky is split, and obeys its Lord- for It must

It is when the Earth is stretched forth, and has cast out All that was in It, becoming empty, and obeys its Lord- for It must

It is the Redness of Sunset, the Night and whatever it Enshrouds, and the Moon when it is Full

It is the Heaven, full of Constellations

It is the Day Promised

It is the Witness and the Witnessed

It is the Heaven and the  Star of piercing Brightness

It is the Dawn It is the ten Nights

It is the Even and the Odd

It is the Night when It departs

It is this City of Makkah

It is the Progenitor and all whom he’s begotten

It is the Sun and its Brightness, the Moon that follows It, the Day that shows up Its Brightness, and the Night that conceals It

It is the Sky and Him who Built It, and the Earth and Him who Spread It

It is the Soul, and Him who Proportioned It, then Showed It what is right and wrong for It

It is the Night as It envelops, and the Day as It emerges in Brilliance

It is Him who Created Male and Female

It is the Forenoon, and the Night when It darkens and stills

It is the Fig, the Olive, Mount Sinai, and this City of Security, Makkah

It is the Steeds that run panting, striking Sparks with by their Hooves, scouring to the Dawn raid, raising Clouds of Dust, penetrating en Masse to the Midst of their Foe

It is the Time, by which Humanity is in Loss