Frag-ment-s
The human desire to unpeel from the reality that hinders us to slaves, spreads to my lungs and heart like fragments from an unfinished poem, never to be completed but at the same time, one that I can not ignore. Sister, mother, where have you come from? Have you forgotten who we are? Drizzling strangers in a wild sea; we know where we are going. Tip toe, scrambled egg shoes, give me a magic wand to drive away the blues.
Thus the lights of this world dimmed and
faded away.
O mother, the light in my heart
that is your love will shine,
as the lamp lit
by the golden oil of the burning brush,
for your warmth,
Under the eternal apricot tree.
We look, and a blond lady dressed in traditional German cloths, like the lady from The Sound of Music, was trying to close the large gate, like the one from my high school, but was being blown by a strong wind coming from our direction. As she was being flown up and down by the wind, she was trying really hard to close the metal gate and at the same time saying “Nothing is going to happen here, we’re not going to do anything” I said she was lying. He said yeah, if nothing was going on inside, she would stay here and enjoy flying. So we started walking towards the gate being blown by the wind, with a fearsome choir singing so victories a religious song; smiling.
Possession
So far, this movie is one of my favorite movies of all time. The whole film is so emotionally charged (thanks to the acting of Isabelle Adjani and Sam Neill) that it makes it more of a tip than it already is, I really can't explain it, but it speaks of some of the things that can't be told, about love, life and monsters; if you could get a hold of it, watch it and decide for yourself.
Thoughts
Sitting next to the ocean, that body of water that has mesmerized man kind since they first gazed upon it, I was trying to conjure up reasons the ocean had a hypnotic trance to its sound and sight, that it captures our minds that nothing beyond that moment exists.I’ve also always wondered about fire and the trance one feels when burring things; if we compare the two opposites, I think things become clearer. Some one told me some time ago, that fire flickers at a rate similar to our brain waves; it may be the case but I highly doubt it.
The trance I fee from the ocean and the fire both have a soothing feel with a slight hint of melancholy. I'm sure it different from one person to another; what are your thoughts about this?
I believe that when we are standing on he edge of the ocean, we stand before something that is far greater than ourselves that our minds lose at trying to make since of it.
"We made from water every living thing" the Quran declares. Could it be that the ocean with it's water is the the physical manifestation of our beginning, our origin; and fire with it flames a manifestation of end, not as in Hell but the destruction of death?
Sitting on the edge of a cliff on the cost of Maine, listening to the ocean and the sound of a bell buoy being tossed by the waves, playing an accompanying ballad; more like us, tossed around in the waives of time. What is your music sounds like?
Heavenly Scene
I was standing on the side of the street of brookside, drinking a bottle of Perrier and watching the clouds passing across the face of the full moon, and I was mesmerized by the beauty like always, it's just been a while. And looked down across the street and saw the people crowding about the clubs and the bars, chaotic and loud. I was amazed at the contrast between the two scenes, the moon in her silent beauty and us down here with our loud crowds of drunk savages; are they even aware of the moon? Do they take a moment to look over their own heads? Are they truly content? We wold never be. The heavenly scene doesn't care who looks up; it goes on passing us by and still out last us.
This morning I saw the morning star for the first time in so long that it seemed the brightest I've ever seen it, but is anyone looking up to see it? The clouds now had covered it.
This morning I saw the morning star for the first time in so long that it seemed the brightest I've ever seen it, but is anyone looking up to see it? The clouds now had covered it.
Self-Portrait
I did this for an assignment in one of my classes; We had to make a self-portrait montage that didn't contain an image of our selves, but was made of things that somehow represented us. This is my first result.
Flowers
Dandelion
This here is a Dogwood tree.
This one as well
Lately, I've been in the mood of taking photos of flowers, not a whole lot though, because it's over done I think, But you really can't help it.For Whom the Bell Tolls
"No man is an island, entire of itself; every
man is a piece of the continent, a part of the
main. If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory
were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or
of thine own were: any man's death diminishes
me, because I am involved in mankind, and
therefore never send to know for whom the bells
tolls; it tolls for thee."
Devotions upon
Emergent Occasions, no. 17
(Meditation)
1624 (published)
Things I've Learned Today
Today we were talking about nuclear weapons in one of my classes and I've learned for the first time about a neutron bomb. It made me read about the subject and one thing led to another and I ended up watching a documentary on youtube about the Chernobyl disaster. I started recalling my visit to Hiroshima peace museum in Japan and how disgusted I felt toward the US. It really makes no sense to have such power. We've lived the major part of human history without it, why can't we continue doing so? Of course, there is no going back to the way things were before the world lost it's nuclear virginity.
I've also read about the effects of radiation on the human body. there is a phase in high radiation poisoning called the walking ghost phase, where a period of well being is enjoyed after the initial symptoms, and ends with a painful death. There is nothing medically to do about it. This phase could last for days or just hours. Way to come up with really screwed up ways to kill each other. I thought at the time when I was reading about this phase, one should make a psychological movie about this in hope of raising awareness about the dangers of nuclear weapons, but this might be too sick.
You could read about the Biology behind radiation poisoning here.
I've also read about the effects of radiation on the human body. there is a phase in high radiation poisoning called the walking ghost phase, where a period of well being is enjoyed after the initial symptoms, and ends with a painful death. There is nothing medically to do about it. This phase could last for days or just hours. Way to come up with really screwed up ways to kill each other. I thought at the time when I was reading about this phase, one should make a psychological movie about this in hope of raising awareness about the dangers of nuclear weapons, but this might be too sick.
You could read about the Biology behind radiation poisoning here.
Soft Rain
Today we had beautiful weather here in Tulsa. The sky was gray and it rained all day; it wasn't the depressing rain or the weary gray, but it was a beautiful blue gray and a very soft rain. I thought it was dreamy weather. The blue gray hue that was casted on all thing indiscriminately gave the world a sense of solemn wonder. The rain was my favorite, it fell...(I got distracted and lost my chain of thought.)
I'm extremly tired now, but I feel like writing. I'm listening to Pink Floyd's "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" and there is a roach crawling not very far from where I'm siting on the floor, but I'm too tired to kill it, or even to scare it. A roach could never be more than a roach, might as well leave it alone. It's funny how the more I read the more I remember things from the past. Most of the time not very good memories. It makes me think where is this all leading to? Or is it really going somewhere? But I'm happy. My heart is missing Widian, she has been writing emails to me lately which have been a source of love and joy for me, and that is a blessing.
Random Thoughts
These are thoughts written as they come to mind. 'm flattered to know that I have two followers of my blog, even though I honestly don't know what is there worth following since I'm either very pessimistic or I don't post stuff. However, lately I found out that I'm really not all that pessimistic, (according to a friend who convinced me so) since I am very hopeful for the future, (what ever that means), but I do believe that we all get what we deserve so there is no need to despair. I love Chamomile, (wow, I spelled it write the first time:) it's one of those special flowers in my opinion; also Hibiscus, which both I associate with innocences, I'm not sure why. I have discovered Fayrouz. I've known her all my life, but lately, I was listening to her songs that I've always had, and I came to notice her special status among Arab singers. Her voice is no doubt unique, and in my opinon, if Angles did sing, Fayrouz's voice would be the closest a human voice would come to them. I say this and I believe that I'm not exaggerating one bit. more recent, I've been on a reading spree, (it slowed down after the first week) I've started reading about four books at once, and I've gotten pretty far in some of them. the books are: The Brothers Karamazov, The Venture of Islam, The Prolegomena of Ibn Khaldun, and an Islamic theology book. I came to admire reading at a random point in my life. I have stacks of book that I've always wanted to read, but never found the discipline, nor a true desire to do so. That is until one day I bought The Brothers Karamazov (I've always wanted to buy it because of Ana). It also happened after the Islamic seminar I attended last month, which made me curies about reading particular books and then my interest grew wiled like fire. I really do hope it lasts, because I believe there is a drastic difference between a person who reads and another who doesn' t. I don't believe the fact that the Quran started with "Read" is coincidental. I have to go to sleep now, I have to go to Gilcrease Museum for my art history class. Salam.
Acrylic
I finally got around using the acrylic paint I have bought awhile ago. I've been wanting to get into painting for some time now, I honestly think I enjoy it.
Big Fish Eat Little Fish
Big Fish Eat Little Fish, 1557
Pieter van der Heyden after Pieter Bruegel the Elder (Netherlandish, active by 1551, died 1569)
Engraving; first state of three; 9 x 11 5/8 in. (22.9 x 29.6 cm)
Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1917 (17.3.859)
Illustrator Art I
I'm learning Illustrator this semester and I'm really starting to get into it, It's a cool program.
Joy
"Plenty and peace breeds cowards; hardness ever of hardness is mother" (William Shakespeare) I've been trying to get myself to write something for some time now, something to reinstate myself in the world of blogging, yet every time I sat at my computer to do so, I fail. At first, I wasn't sure why that happened, but now I'm sure it's because I associated my blog with the darkest time of my life. The blog reflected the lowest pit my soul had fallen. Even though the bleak night seems to vanish, it's nightmare and how near it came to engulf me still visits my mind. But I'm different now, (at least I hope) I might as well start a new blog; yet, I don't want to forget the past, I will build on it, and hopefully learn something.
I really want to start by writing something about happiness. It is something that I never really wrote about or even publicly talked about until yesterday when I had a good talk with a friend of mine. The conversation started about knowledge and how we people think we know what we know, and some how it ended up with the ultimate goal in life, happiness.
The notion of happiness has honestly eluded me for some time; actually, at one point last year, I came to conclude that I would never feel deep happiness again; and it was a very scary thing, but I came to accept it as being something that happens when one grew up and having rolled in the mud a few times. I came to accept the few moments of satisfaction when I did something I enjoyed as being the week reminiscence of true joy that I might have experienced as a child, that true happiness that I feared was lost.
As pessimistic as I've always been, I am happy to say that there is hope. Happiness still lives even in the graves chests such as mine, yet we have to know where to find it. I found the over whelming sensation of joy none other than in Libya. I am honestly not sure why this last time I visited made me extremely happy. It came as a surprise because I honestly gave up.
Giving up on happiness is the greatest mistake a person could make. We need to find what makes us happy. What truly gives us that fussy feeling of deep joy. It's also a sad mistake to think that one will gain joy by having a successful carrier or a wealthy life style. It maybe true for some people, but I would bet all I have, that it's 99.9% not the case for the most of us. What we should make the goal of our lives is not a six figure salary, but happiness; it should be what we pursuit in life. There is joy in the act of pursuing joy , and I am sure we all realize that, but we just don't make it a part of our consensus thinking and planing. We shouldn't want the cars and houses and the hot wife for the sake of gratifying our desires, but for the sake of gratifying our need for happiness if that's where you think your happiness is. And thank God we don't need those things to feel happy. It is true, a poor child living in some dirt poor third world country could be as happy or even more than a rich kid living in a rich country. Why is that? I leave you to answer that question for yourself.
As for myself, I came to believe, that good things make us happy; what we believe is good and what is bad is up to each and one of us. I hope that every one reading this could reach a conclusion on what makes them happy. I am happy to know that I could be happy again and happy to have written this, I just wish I could have done a better job. I hope each and one of you is able and continues to feel joy in everyday of your life.
_saa
I really want to start by writing something about happiness. It is something that I never really wrote about or even publicly talked about until yesterday when I had a good talk with a friend of mine. The conversation started about knowledge and how we people think we know what we know, and some how it ended up with the ultimate goal in life, happiness.
The notion of happiness has honestly eluded me for some time; actually, at one point last year, I came to conclude that I would never feel deep happiness again; and it was a very scary thing, but I came to accept it as being something that happens when one grew up and having rolled in the mud a few times. I came to accept the few moments of satisfaction when I did something I enjoyed as being the week reminiscence of true joy that I might have experienced as a child, that true happiness that I feared was lost.
As pessimistic as I've always been, I am happy to say that there is hope. Happiness still lives even in the graves chests such as mine, yet we have to know where to find it. I found the over whelming sensation of joy none other than in Libya. I am honestly not sure why this last time I visited made me extremely happy. It came as a surprise because I honestly gave up.
Giving up on happiness is the greatest mistake a person could make. We need to find what makes us happy. What truly gives us that fussy feeling of deep joy. It's also a sad mistake to think that one will gain joy by having a successful carrier or a wealthy life style. It maybe true for some people, but I would bet all I have, that it's 99.9% not the case for the most of us. What we should make the goal of our lives is not a six figure salary, but happiness; it should be what we pursuit in life. There is joy in the act of pursuing joy , and I am sure we all realize that, but we just don't make it a part of our consensus thinking and planing. We shouldn't want the cars and houses and the hot wife for the sake of gratifying our desires, but for the sake of gratifying our need for happiness if that's where you think your happiness is. And thank God we don't need those things to feel happy. It is true, a poor child living in some dirt poor third world country could be as happy or even more than a rich kid living in a rich country. Why is that? I leave you to answer that question for yourself.
As for myself, I came to believe, that good things make us happy; what we believe is good and what is bad is up to each and one of us. I hope that every one reading this could reach a conclusion on what makes them happy. I am happy to know that I could be happy again and happy to have written this, I just wish I could have done a better job. I hope each and one of you is able and continues to feel joy in everyday of your life.
_saa
Janna
Today I went with my family and Khadija Teri's family to Leptis Magna. It was the best fun I've had as far as I could remember. It was a much needed brake after a bitter sweet trip to Ghadamis that ended the day before. I want to share as much photos as I can, but I am very tired, so I'll leave you with this photo of Khadija Teri's daughter Janna.For you who don't know Khadeja Teri, here is her blog.
Libya
I know not many people read my blog, but for those who do, I want to say I'm sorry I haven't been posting anything lately and I won't for some time. I am back in Libya visiting for a few weeks. It's been a much needed break from the American Way of Life. It's been great seen family and friends and good to get away from the cold weather in Tulsa. In this trip, I feel like I've grown up a little from the last times I came back, or at least I hope, many things and situations have changed. One thing I noticed about Libya I don't think I've noticed before, is what makes Libya an amazing place. Libya might the most chaotic place on earth, but among all the chaos and distortion of the uncared for cites and cars and everything in between, there is beauty, love and happiness that can't be found anywhere ells in the world. Maybe I'm making things up because I grew up here. One thing is for cretin, Libya needs an overhaul.
A Due to a Dead Friend
"A Due to a Dead Friend"
I fall a sleep with thoughts of joy
Clouding the apple tree that was your ghost
Whatever will happen had happened again
I fall asleep with thoughts of Joy
With a bloody smile I cross the void
I finally know what true love bestows
But ample light does never destroy the cold
With a bloody smile I cross the void
Going under and going up
We all have to go through deep and wide
My friends I love with all my heart
Going under and going up
The sun still burns, the silver moon shines
I’ll hold your hand like you held mine
Truly decent friends are hard to find, yet
The sun still burns, the silver moon shines.
"Soft Targets"
Here is quote found in a BBC article about the sad and terrible events that took place in Mumbai. I am a Muslim and I believe that who ever caused the atrocity has nothing to do with Islam and Islam has nothing to do with them. Throughout history Jews and Muslims lived side by side and treated each other with dignity and justice. But as we get lost in our times, we forget the bonds that connect us and we let a handful of people distort our brotherhood by hatred and by the wrong doing of another handful of people. My heart goes out to all who suffered.
The quote is by Jonathan Solomon.
"Despite differences elsewhere, the Jewish community here is close to Muslims, closer than to Hindus, and has traditionally lived in Muslim-dominated neighbourhoods like Byculla and Dongri, and shared business ties. The majority of students in Jewish-run schools in Mumbai are Muslims because they are located in Muslim-dominated neighbourhoods.
"That is why we never believed we could become a target, though for many years some people have told us to be careful," says Jonathan Solomon, a community elder, who runs a nearly 100-year-old family-owned law firm in central Mumbai.
"We are not a part of the Middle Eastern animosity between the two communities. We are far away from all that.
"This is a very traumatic moment for the community. We have been targeted once and the terrorists have succeeded. That makes us vulnerable as soft targets."
Bolero
I just took a personality test on the BBC website and it suggests that I would like Impressionism art. I don't entirely agree with the test, but I looked up Impressionism art and music and found this nice video. When I was a kid, I first heard Bolero and I thought it was the greatest music ever, but I have to say that it's not the case now. I think I like more romantic abstract art and music. Well the test also said that my favourite type of art is Cubism, which honestly I don't know much about that art form, so maybe. I should explore it more I guess.
Bad Movies
It was unusual for me to fall asleep early, but last night I did. I love to dream about movies because most of the time they are really great or something like that. But most of the time I don’t remember much of them except that I felt it was the greatest thing ever. Last night I started dreaming that I was in Libya with my mom talking to my sister Zainab over the phone. I was worried about her because she was having car problems and some other stuff was bothering me. The overall feel wasn’t so good. Then all of the sudden, I started watching a movie about some friends that looked like the guys from Seinfeld. They were swimming out of the ocean dodging alligators and they get out of the ocean but one of them is left wrestling with a green alligator on the beach. It seemed he intentionally was doing so. By the time he finished wrestling the green alligator his friends were gone. Then the camera pans as he is looking around for them but he can't find them. As the camera pans around in a close shot, we see a crowd of short and thick surfers all wearing the same red old-school bathing suit and blue swimming caps. They all were walking very slow and in line on the white sand carrying their surfboards by their side. They all looked the identical. It had a very strong visual effect. Then the movie shifts to another movie and it starts in a classy party with live classical music and champaign. The camera pans across the room and settles on a table where really small people where partying on. They were all dressed up as well, but I felt like they were the servants and musicians. Then the camera follows a small person into a mouse hole and it goes through a tunnel and into dungeons. And that person turns out to be Dicaprio, and for some reason I felt like I was a great fan of him, even though in real life I’m not. He was walking around being sneaky and all breaking into gates and so forth. Then a voice of a man is heard, as if speaking through an intercom asking him what he is doing here and that he knows he is trying to steel his weapons. Some how I understand that Dicaprio is the son of this voice or something, trying to steel weapons. The movie was different from the first one it was dark and wet, but still had a very interesting action feel to it. Then, the movie switched again to another movie. This one I saw in real life but the scene didn’t exist in the real movie. The movie is Cannibal Holocaust. The scene looked like it was at the end of the movie. It started out with a far shot of a naked Indian woman standing in a cleared area of the jungle. And it pans in or flies past her and finally to a group of Indians burying something in a big hole. throughout this movie scene, there is a voice speaking as if concluding the movie. What I remember him saying was that after they did what they did…I can’t remember exactly this part but in the end as we get to the shot of a hole being filled with dirt he says “what all these movies have in common is that they are bad, bad, bad…” It goes black, but the voice continues and it becomes more and more clear that it’s an evil voice. I look and the movie was over but the voice was going on saying bad... and I realize that I was trapped. And this is in real life. My eyes were wide open but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed. I tried to say A'odo billahe mena a'shaittan a'rajem, but I couldn’t. I was breathless and could only say A’od and then I finally said billlah and I felt a tingling sensation and as if something heavy weight lifting off of my body. And the voice stopped.
Assad
This is one of my proofs of a print I'm working on in my Printmaking class. The design is not mine, but this is the kind of art I would love to learn. I gave up using plastic bags for shopping after reading Dan's post on his blog Life's Bone , so I've been trying to make a grocery shopping bag and have this printed on it, hopefully it will work out. The desgin is of a lion and it's composed of Islamic Arabic Calligraphy. It's Litho ink on news print.
I guess I am happy that Obama won. I voted for the first time, which was hard for me to do since I strongly distrust politicians and at first, I didn't want anything to do with the system, but I figured I'll give it a try. I just worry that he is too good to be true and that we built him up to be other than what he is, a politician. I hope he doesn't disappoint us.
Light Study
An experimental project I'm working on. Any comments and suggestions would be greatly appreciated.
“To be or not to be, that is the question;Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life,
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.”
Connections?
A mob of Hindu men burn a Hindu woman alive along with the Christian orphanage after gang raping a Nun. A cop shoots and kills a man who was beating and stomping a fourteen month old baby to death. A twelve year old Afghani girl addicted to heroin, one of the so many children addicted to the drug in the lawless Afghanistan. People starving to death in Djibouti and west of Somalia. And I have become less tolerant to silly people. The day will come.
Gravity
A photo of a print I made in my photography class. You can see the marks where I crunched the film trying to load it on the reel. I still like the photo.(The legs belong to 3amro)
Ramadan
And so Ramadan is gone. I feel terribly sad for it to be over with. I swear, I wish the whole year was Ramadan. I know I won't feel the same until next year, Inshallah.
Generation of Mania
Dr. Lieberman, Dr. Chang,
Thank you for turning our kids into zombies.
Why would they rather die?
Couldn’t they be like the car or the boat?
I know I should have used the rubber coat.
My job, the wife, my life,
No time to deal with “I want to rip daddy’s head”
We have a medicine for that instead.
“Daddy, you know why I hate you”
You let me down, you poisoned my veins.
The blood running in me has blackened with lithium.
I know you’d rather be dead than to run with me.
You’d rather stitch a smile on my face
Than to see how you really make me feel.
I am sorry I didn’t come like they had it
In the baby’s book or the catalog.
I have problems, I have pains,
I cry, I swing and I throw a fit.
Only a child doesn’t need these things,
We have medicine instead.
Is it love or is it Schizophrenia? (From the Laureate Website.)
These symptoms may be seen in someone experiencing schizophrenia:
• Delusions -- false ideas--individuals may believe that someone is spying on, (stocking) him or her, or that they are someone famous. (Check)
• Hallucinations – seeing, feeling, tasting, hearing or smelling something that doesn’t really exist. The most common experience is hearing imaginary voices that give commands or comments to the individual. (Check)
• Disordered thinking and speech -- moving from one topic to another, in a nonsensical fashion. Individuals may make up their own words or sounds. (Check)
• Extreme apathy (Check not, I had to look up apathy which conforms the previews point)
• Social withdrawal (Check)
• Lack of drive or initiative (Check)
• Emotional unresponsiveness (I'm not so sure about this one, so I guess I'm off the hook:)
• Delusions -- false ideas--individuals may believe that someone is spying on, (stocking) him or her, or that they are someone famous. (Check)
• Hallucinations – seeing, feeling, tasting, hearing or smelling something that doesn’t really exist. The most common experience is hearing imaginary voices that give commands or comments to the individual. (Check)
• Disordered thinking and speech -- moving from one topic to another, in a nonsensical fashion. Individuals may make up their own words or sounds. (Check)
• Extreme apathy (Check not, I had to look up apathy which conforms the previews point)
• Social withdrawal (Check)
• Lack of drive or initiative (Check)
• Emotional unresponsiveness (I'm not so sure about this one, so I guess I'm off the hook:)
Philosophy
lately I have been pondering and arguing ideas that pissed off some of my atheist friends which was a surprise to me since they seem the most opened minded and open to arguments.
It is safe to say that every one of us is different. We all have similarities between us, but there is only one of us. There is only one Salah, one Ana through out existence, there is no one identical to another person. This is our singularity. It extends out to our universe, becouse we all view our world in different ways. Imperialistically speaking, the world that we see, hear, and feel is ultimately a world of ideas. Light, food, taste and everything we see are ideas produced in our heads. For my argument, it doesn't mater if the world outside of us exists the way we see it or not, what is important is the fact that everything in the world is filtered through our brains to get what we ultimately see. Therefore we all have a unique world that exists with our existence that dies and comes to an end with our death. That is if there is no after life and no God and so on. If this life is all there is, it becomes pointless to exist.
Why do I think atheism leads to nihilism: If we die and that's the end, then for us it's like we never existed. Your world never existed, everything you did or will ever do never took place becouse when you're dead, it is as if you never happened. No matter what. That brings me to morality with atheism, what is morel? If we are nothing but animals who like to think of them selves as non animals then it would be pointless to try to stop someone from stealing, killing, raping and so on, becouse we are animals who once we die it's the end, then we have no rational or just reason to prosecute.
People tend to forget that science is ultimately a belief system. Nothing in this world is certain. so I think it is silly to argue science as pure certainty. The most certain thing in our world is our birth and our death, everything in between is not certainty, but a belief. Therefor I don't think it's nice to diss on someone else's belief. It is simply moronic to believe that what you believe is something other than a belief.
The ultimate question would be, all this, you and me and everything in between had to come from some where; the big bang had to come from some where. You can't have something out of nothing, even science will tell you that. The people who believe in a God say God created it, it came from another plane of existence where our physical laws don't apply. Atheists would say that it is one less assumption they would make. In doing so, they made an assumption by not making an assumption, either way they're making one. And I could keep going.
If philosophy thought me anything, it is the fact that we don't know shit, and I wish we would stop acting like we know something. I don't think anyone could handle a world with out a God. It seems many advocate it without knowing what it entails. War my dear friends is the closest you'll get to a world without a God, because we all become nothing but dogs.
I think what scares people of death is not purely biological, it's becouse they are about to face the truth that they so long for, what ever that truth maybe.
I hope I didn't offend any one, I just wanted to share with you to make you think. I'm sure I am not entirely right but you can never be certain, so don't let your ego elude you.
It is safe to say that every one of us is different. We all have similarities between us, but there is only one of us. There is only one Salah, one Ana through out existence, there is no one identical to another person. This is our singularity. It extends out to our universe, becouse we all view our world in different ways. Imperialistically speaking, the world that we see, hear, and feel is ultimately a world of ideas. Light, food, taste and everything we see are ideas produced in our heads. For my argument, it doesn't mater if the world outside of us exists the way we see it or not, what is important is the fact that everything in the world is filtered through our brains to get what we ultimately see. Therefore we all have a unique world that exists with our existence that dies and comes to an end with our death. That is if there is no after life and no God and so on. If this life is all there is, it becomes pointless to exist.
Why do I think atheism leads to nihilism: If we die and that's the end, then for us it's like we never existed. Your world never existed, everything you did or will ever do never took place becouse when you're dead, it is as if you never happened. No matter what. That brings me to morality with atheism, what is morel? If we are nothing but animals who like to think of them selves as non animals then it would be pointless to try to stop someone from stealing, killing, raping and so on, becouse we are animals who once we die it's the end, then we have no rational or just reason to prosecute.
People tend to forget that science is ultimately a belief system. Nothing in this world is certain. so I think it is silly to argue science as pure certainty. The most certain thing in our world is our birth and our death, everything in between is not certainty, but a belief. Therefor I don't think it's nice to diss on someone else's belief. It is simply moronic to believe that what you believe is something other than a belief.
The ultimate question would be, all this, you and me and everything in between had to come from some where; the big bang had to come from some where. You can't have something out of nothing, even science will tell you that. The people who believe in a God say God created it, it came from another plane of existence where our physical laws don't apply. Atheists would say that it is one less assumption they would make. In doing so, they made an assumption by not making an assumption, either way they're making one. And I could keep going.
If philosophy thought me anything, it is the fact that we don't know shit, and I wish we would stop acting like we know something. I don't think anyone could handle a world with out a God. It seems many advocate it without knowing what it entails. War my dear friends is the closest you'll get to a world without a God, because we all become nothing but dogs.
I think what scares people of death is not purely biological, it's becouse they are about to face the truth that they so long for, what ever that truth maybe.
I hope I didn't offend any one, I just wanted to share with you to make you think. I'm sure I am not entirely right but you can never be certain, so don't let your ego elude you.
Last night I saw a little girl and a boy, sister and brother, alone in the dark praying hall praying out loud in Urdu. I didn't understand a word they said, but It was something I had never seen before, and it amazed me.
A Hole in the Wall
I was recently introduced to a small Mexican restaurant around my college that defines a hole in a wall. Normally there is only one man who works the joint. He looks as shady as the place but he was cool as hell. Something about restaurants that scare you and make you feel out of place, the food just taste better. The first time I went there, the place was crowded with rough looking Mexicans who looked like they just got off work. they all gave me and my friend an amusing look and then guided their attention back to the Mexican soap opera on the tv while Maritach music blared in the background from the kitchen. The place was trashy and filled with dirty paper plates and furnished with a broken jukebox and some other stuff that I can't remember because I was trying so hard to act normal. My friend did the ordering and we sat in the back of the store because the front was packed. I had a Cabesa burrito which turned out to be very good and filling. The place is famous for their Tacos I guess, so my friend ordered six tacos. the last one he ordered was lingua (tongue) but he couldn't finish it becouse he almost threw up. I finished it for him; I could handle the texture because I had it a while ago. For my surprise the small authentic taco was the bomb. of course the place only takes cash, no paper trail I guess. Last night I went back with 3amier because he was hungry and he fell in love with the place. We ended up ordering twice because he couldn't get enough. We ordered eight tacos, three lingua, three cabesa, one pollo and one assada. The second time I ordered I asked the guy to add two peppers, he didn't understand. I said two jalapeños and he still didn't understand. I ran out of options and suddenly he says dus chillis. yeah good times. I still can't remember the name of the place though, Taco something, I want to say Taco De Colorado but I know it's wrong. The best part is they're open until four.
I was going to write a lengthy post about what I believe and about Islam, but I noticed myself starting to preach. Islam is very simple and shouldn't be complicated. If we start jumping through theology loops we loose the true meaning of it. Islam is the believing in one God and his prophets, including Mohamed. The Prophet once was asked what is a Muslim. he replied, a Muslim is who the people are safe from his hands and his tongue. I think this is the only definition given by the Prophet. I know it's not as appealing as people want it to be, but this is it.
Simone Weil
I was introduced to Simone Weil by a feminist man, who I didn't like his way of arguing. In some way he made me feel like I was a chauvinistic pig, which I am sure I am not, but I couldn't carry a good argument with this gentleman. It started out by "why there isn't many women philosophers?" I sort of disagreed with him that it's becouse the male domination over philosophy and the sexual discrimination that follows from that, scares woman away. Here is a blog entry I found about why there isn't many women in philosophy which supports the gentleman's opinion. even though I don't like the way it's written or it's message, but I'll share it for the sake of the argument. Mad Melancholic Feminista.
I have been meaning to write something about feminism, but never got to it. I promise I'll lay down my chauvinistic theories as soon as possible. (I'm just kidding you know.)
Even though I didn't enjoy my conversation with the femnist man a whole lot, I am glad I talked to him. I am really impressed with Simone Weil and I look froward to reading her writings.
I have been meaning to write something about feminism, but never got to it. I promise I'll lay down my chauvinistic theories as soon as possible. (I'm just kidding you know.)
Even though I didn't enjoy my conversation with the femnist man a whole lot, I am glad I talked to him. I am really impressed with Simone Weil and I look froward to reading her writings.
Holding On
Tulsa sucks the life out of my already bone dry body. Something happened, I know it. There is nothing I can do about this except leave it up to God. I think it's about time I leave.
(By E. E. Cummings)
b
et
wee
n no
w dis
appear
ing mou
ntains a
re drifti
ng christi
an how swee
tliest bell
s and we'l
l be you'
ll be i'
ll be ?
? ther
efore
let'
s k
is
s
wee
n no
w dis
appear
ing mou
ntains a
re drifti
ng christi
an how swee
tliest bell
s and we'l
l be you'
ll be i'
ll be ?
? ther
efore
let'
s k
is
s
V
V
The teraph and the staff
Incinerating in the light of the dieing dusk,
Slither to dust with a Medusa scream.
Long live the willow that drapes over our lives.
Though I've fallen quite some way,
There is simply no time to see it to the end.
Melancholy is a burning acid
From a dieing oak tree
Where the bird with no face
Hangs his head.
He knows what is next to come.
"If only I wasn't a Muslim"
Says the headless idiot
With his monotonic filth.
What difference does it make
When your insides are devoured by headless beasts?
How long is there left to go
To reach the zenith we've been promised?
I will no_ (longer) indulge in eating
The flesh of my dieing brother.
The real moon, that I dragged her name
Senselessly to the pits of my hell, understands.
"Poor Salah" high in the sky she said.
Like the faceless bird she knew.
What ever silly mushrooms
spring out of their rot feeding corpse,
They will do us no harm.
I will run to her.
The moon is the only one that understands.
"What ever befalls your days,
your nights will be soothed by my silver ray.
With the melancholy far at sea
and the unfettered swallows high in the blue sky.
Only then will you understand."
The teraph and the staff
Incinerating in the light of the dieing dusk,
Slither to dust with a Medusa scream.
Long live the willow that drapes over our lives.
Though I've fallen quite some way,
There is simply no time to see it to the end.
Melancholy is a burning acid
From a dieing oak tree
Where the bird with no face
Hangs his head.
He knows what is next to come.
"If only I wasn't a Muslim"
Says the headless idiot
With his monotonic filth.
What difference does it make
When your insides are devoured by headless beasts?
How long is there left to go
To reach the zenith we've been promised?
I will no_ (longer) indulge in eating
The flesh of my dieing brother.
The real moon, that I dragged her name
Senselessly to the pits of my hell, understands.
"Poor Salah" high in the sky she said.
Like the faceless bird she knew.
What ever silly mushrooms
spring out of their rot feeding corpse,
They will do us no harm.
I will run to her.
The moon is the only one that understands.
"What ever befalls your days,
your nights will be soothed by my silver ray.
With the melancholy far at sea
and the unfettered swallows high in the blue sky.
Only then will you understand."
Crying
I feel like I have to admit that I cry every time I feel weak and that that it happens more often than it should. I will no longer play the role of the strong. I am weak. Today I came to realize that I was pretending to be someone that is strong enough to take on the whole world. The truth of the matter is that I can’t even take on my own self. Today when the car died on the side of the highway, I felt the weakness in me creep out of its shell. After four hours of failure to solve the car problem, I felt helpless and dumb. I felt that this is the metaphor of my life, a broken down car on the a dark road to nowhere. I had to get out of the cab. I didn’t want my mother to see her grown ass son cry like a five year old. I got out of the cabin, with a flash light in one hand and my dignity on the muddy ground. I squatted looking for the distributer cap latch that I dropped as it rained. Among all this madness and this failure, I remembered her. My chest still kills me. Even though she is off honeymooning and I am stranded on this highway to nowhere, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how stupidly I am in love with her. I cried. Squatting next to my dead car, I howled like a dying dog. A dying dog stranded on a rainy dark highway to nowhere, in Kansas, still in love and crying.
Unviel
What is it that matters now?
I have done it again
And for the last time.
Even if it was meant to be,
I’ll mange to screw it somehow.
When the veils are lifted
From upon our days
It becomes clear,
The wages of fear is disgrace.
The devil has gotten the best of me.
I have failed God for the last time.
It's time to become ruthless.
Ascend
In the resurrection of spring
Your breath is music.
The light reflecting from your body
reflects a beauty within,
As wild as the wind
while simultaneously calm
as the dew on roses
in a cool morning in spring.
Though the sky has fallen,
you rise like the star that you are.
shining bright through the darken night
until the jealous moon
drowns you in her silver rain.
Until another dawn
when you shine,
dancing among the sea of stars
that cast a solemn stare
among us lonely humans.
For you dance above,
And we hang below.
(тясна превод)
Във възкресението на пролетта
Въздуха си е музика.
В зависимост от вашето тяло, отразяващи
отразява красотата в рамките на,
Що се диви на вятъра
като същевременно спокоен
като dew на розите
в страхотен сутрин през пролетта.
Въпреки, че небето е паднала,
Вие искате увеличение на звездата, че сте.
блестят ярко през нощта потъмняване
ревнив до Луната
удавя сте в нейния сребърен дъжд.
До друг зората
При блясък,
Министърът сред морето от звезди
че подадените тържествена Старе
Сред нас самотни хора.
За вас танц по-горе,
И ние я по-долу.
Your breath is music.
The light reflecting from your body
reflects a beauty within,
As wild as the wind
while simultaneously calm
as the dew on roses
in a cool morning in spring.
Though the sky has fallen,
you rise like the star that you are.
shining bright through the darken night
until the jealous moon
drowns you in her silver rain.
Until another dawn
when you shine,
dancing among the sea of stars
that cast a solemn stare
among us lonely humans.
For you dance above,
And we hang below.
(тясна превод)
Във възкресението на пролетта
Въздуха си е музика.
В зависимост от вашето тяло, отразяващи
отразява красотата в рамките на,
Що се диви на вятъра
като същевременно спокоен
като dew на розите
в страхотен сутрин през пролетта.
Въпреки, че небето е паднала,
Вие искате увеличение на звездата, че сте.
блестят ярко през нощта потъмняване
ревнив до Луната
удавя сте в нейния сребърен дъжд.
До друг зората
При блясък,
Министърът сред морето от звезди
че подадените тържествена Старе
Сред нас самотни хора.
За вас танц по-горе,
И ние я по-долу.
Nature
The Moon is her grace and mother
The sun is her father
The wind is her prophet
The sky is her face
The rain is her tears
The mountains are her wisdom
The Sea is her fierce power
The rivers are her veins
The forest is her Magic
The desert is her freedom
And the earth,
The earth is us.
(One thing we are exceptionally good at,
Is killing ourselves.)
Rambling
I’m in a vise grip that tightens with every beat of my miserable heart. I want to believe that it will all work out well and we will live the happiest lives in the bluest heavenly water, it just seems that nether of us is willing to compromise, so I guess we'll have to follow our own dreams, no room for each other even though she is my dream, there is only enough room for one. I’m glad you have your priorities straight. I always had the problem of throwing my whole life away for the things I believed in. Those things too are now dying out. Everything comes to an end. Dreams, nightmares, the voices, the longing, the insanity, it all has to end. This unfulfilled love, the waiting in vain and what ever faith I have left in the human race, it all has to come to an end. Did you call to hear my voice? I hope you enjoyed it while I sat there trying to remember the smile of your face. If only you knew what you mean to me, or how what you're doing does to me. By now I guess you know, which makes it even harder. Did you like the lullaby I sang to you the other night when I laid by your side with you head on my chest and my lips to your lips and my fingers dancing through you hair? yeah I'm warm outside, yet inside , I'm as cold as the dead floor I lay on.
Loony Friday
Friday was about the craziest day in a long time.
Starting about midnight, we got a phone call from
a relative telling us she was going to jail for
DUI and wanted a thousand dollars for bail. I
couldn’t go to sleep all night wondering if I
should get her out or let her spend some time in
jail to learn, but since people never learn and
because she's a relative, I decided to pay for her
dumb ass. Luckily she got a bail bond company to
get her out before I did, though I still had to go
pick her up from jail at five thirty. As soon as I
laid down trying to sleep around four thirty, I
felt an earthquake. It was so light I thought I
was imagining things. Then today I found out that
there was an earthquake that happened up in
Illinois. I don’t know if you could have felt it
in Tulsa but I really think I did. When five
thirty came, I went and picked her up from jail. I
tried so hard not to say anything while I drove
her home but I had to. I owed it to her. It really
doesn’t mater what I say, she’ll do what she wants
to do. Then half an hour after I dropped her off,
she calls, half drunk, asking my mother to take
her get her boob job done in few hours. I really
don’t understand what the hell is wrong with her
head. I tried telling here that if you don't
believe in signs, this is the time to start. Of
course I was never good at preaching. So I turned
off my phone, took a nap and woke up to a
beautiful sunny day. First I went to meet the VA
rep to discus what I am going to do when I grow
up. Funny stuff, but it boiled down to the ever
lurking question, to art or not to art. He thought
it was a great idea. We’ll see what happens. After
that, I came back home took another short nap,
woke up and was off to the funeral at one. I
thought I went to the funeral to remember my
friend but it turn out I went to be reminded why
Jesus died on the cross for me. The best funeral
I’ve been to so far was an Afghani funeral in
orange county, they give sweets and drinks in the
end of the burial service. Even though I don’t
understand Urdu, it was good stuff. Not that
funerals are good; it’s the culture if you know
what I’m saying. Anyway, I am really screwed in
the head; I’ll just leave it at that. When I was
getting ready to go inside the funeral home, a
huge bright green frog leaped in front of me, very
wearied Alice in Wonderland moment. I just looked
at it for few seconds then just walked away. It
looked like it was staring at me. After the
funeral, I went to the mosque and as I was walking
up the door steps there was a dead baby bird
laying on the concrete slab. I looked at it, I
felt sorry for it, and then I walked into the
mosque. While inside, I couldn't stop thinking
about the bird, I felt bad for it so I decide to
go back outside and make a burial service for the
bird. I didn’t have much time, so I dug the bird a
shallow grave near the bushes near the mosque and
mumbled some words for the bird and made a head
stone with a piece of stick to mark the grave. It
got me thinking, what does this bird has in common
with my dead friend? And what don’t they have in
common? Deep question if you know what I’m saying.
The speaker for the Friday service was an older
man from Albania. After the prayer, he was talking
to me and he was really friendly complementing me
about my name and all, it’s just that I was
feeling rally weird all day so it felt like I was
in some trippy dream. It didn’t help that they
were giving free bananas on the way out of the
mosque. So, to finish the afternoon off on a good
note, I played soccer with the kids in front of
the mosque, great kids, and good times. The day
could have been much worst but I always felt this
invisible presence which I’m thankful for what
ever it is. Yeah, I know I lost it.
Starting about midnight, we got a phone call from
a relative telling us she was going to jail for
DUI and wanted a thousand dollars for bail. I
couldn’t go to sleep all night wondering if I
should get her out or let her spend some time in
jail to learn, but since people never learn and
because she's a relative, I decided to pay for her
dumb ass. Luckily she got a bail bond company to
get her out before I did, though I still had to go
pick her up from jail at five thirty. As soon as I
laid down trying to sleep around four thirty, I
felt an earthquake. It was so light I thought I
was imagining things. Then today I found out that
there was an earthquake that happened up in
Illinois. I don’t know if you could have felt it
in Tulsa but I really think I did. When five
thirty came, I went and picked her up from jail. I
tried so hard not to say anything while I drove
her home but I had to. I owed it to her. It really
doesn’t mater what I say, she’ll do what she wants
to do. Then half an hour after I dropped her off,
she calls, half drunk, asking my mother to take
her get her boob job done in few hours. I really
don’t understand what the hell is wrong with her
head. I tried telling here that if you don't
believe in signs, this is the time to start. Of
course I was never good at preaching. So I turned
off my phone, took a nap and woke up to a
beautiful sunny day. First I went to meet the VA
rep to discus what I am going to do when I grow
up. Funny stuff, but it boiled down to the ever
lurking question, to art or not to art. He thought
it was a great idea. We’ll see what happens. After
that, I came back home took another short nap,
woke up and was off to the funeral at one. I
thought I went to the funeral to remember my
friend but it turn out I went to be reminded why
Jesus died on the cross for me. The best funeral
I’ve been to so far was an Afghani funeral in
orange county, they give sweets and drinks in the
end of the burial service. Even though I don’t
understand Urdu, it was good stuff. Not that
funerals are good; it’s the culture if you know
what I’m saying. Anyway, I am really screwed in
the head; I’ll just leave it at that. When I was
getting ready to go inside the funeral home, a
huge bright green frog leaped in front of me, very
wearied Alice in Wonderland moment. I just looked
at it for few seconds then just walked away. It
looked like it was staring at me. After the
funeral, I went to the mosque and as I was walking
up the door steps there was a dead baby bird
laying on the concrete slab. I looked at it, I
felt sorry for it, and then I walked into the
mosque. While inside, I couldn't stop thinking
about the bird, I felt bad for it so I decide to
go back outside and make a burial service for the
bird. I didn’t have much time, so I dug the bird a
shallow grave near the bushes near the mosque and
mumbled some words for the bird and made a head
stone with a piece of stick to mark the grave. It
got me thinking, what does this bird has in common
with my dead friend? And what don’t they have in
common? Deep question if you know what I’m saying.
The speaker for the Friday service was an older
man from Albania. After the prayer, he was talking
to me and he was really friendly complementing me
about my name and all, it’s just that I was
feeling rally weird all day so it felt like I was
in some trippy dream. It didn’t help that they
were giving free bananas on the way out of the
mosque. So, to finish the afternoon off on a good
note, I played soccer with the kids in front of
the mosque, great kids, and good times. The day
could have been much worst but I always felt this
invisible presence which I’m thankful for what
ever it is. Yeah, I know I lost it.
Dawn
Dawn
I thought of you the other day,
Days after you called me and left me a message.
I’ve became so accustomed to ignoring my friends,
I’ve made a good hobby of it.
I thought I would call you some time.
Maybe chat for a short time.
Chat but not to lead you any where.
Now, that time will never come.
Now that you've died.
And I’m sitting in my room beating off.
And now I’m scared for life.
Maybe it’s good you didn’t see me
In these few days you had.
Hopefully you forgot me.
I hope you weren’t waiting for my call.
The worst thing that could happen,
Is you go out with my memory in your heart.
I hope you find peace.
I thought of you the other day,
Days after you called me and left me a message.
I’ve became so accustomed to ignoring my friends,
I’ve made a good hobby of it.
I thought I would call you some time.
Maybe chat for a short time.
Chat but not to lead you any where.
Now, that time will never come.
Now that you've died.
And I’m sitting in my room beating off.
And now I’m scared for life.
Maybe it’s good you didn’t see me
In these few days you had.
Hopefully you forgot me.
I hope you weren’t waiting for my call.
The worst thing that could happen,
Is you go out with my memory in your heart.
I hope you find peace.
Virginia Woolf Says
I found a great quote by Virginia Woolf.
"Therefore if you insist upon fighting to protect
me, or "our" country, let it be understood,
soberly and rationally between us, that you are
fighting to gratify a sex instinct which I cannot
share; to procure benefits which I have not shared
and probably will not share; but not to gratify my
instincts, or to protect either myself or my
country. "For," the outsider will say, "in fact,
as a woman, I have no country. As a woman I want
no country. As a woman my country is the whole
world."" This is true for all free men.
"Therefore if you insist upon fighting to protect
me, or "our" country, let it be understood,
soberly and rationally between us, that you are
fighting to gratify a sex instinct which I cannot
share; to procure benefits which I have not shared
and probably will not share; but not to gratify my
instincts, or to protect either myself or my
country. "For," the outsider will say, "in fact,
as a woman, I have no country. As a woman I want
no country. As a woman my country is the whole
world."" This is true for all free men.
Of Women and the Virgin Mary
I don’t know if I am the only man who has ever had
the problem of measuring up women to the Virgin
Mary. I know it is very weird but every time I
read about her in the Quran I think this is how
women should be. And I am so stubborn that it
seemed I would never marry any one because no one
would ever measure up to the Virgin Mary. However,
my understanding of the character of the Virgin
Mary defers from that of the Christen view. I
don’t picture her to be some god like woman with a
halo around her head nursing baby Jesus. I think
of Mary, peace may be upon her, as a woman who
believed in the promise of God and despite all her
suffering she stood fast to what she believed to
be the truth. One of my favorite passages in the
Quran is where the story of the birth of Mariam
(Mary in Arabic) is narrated. I promise I am not
trying to be preachy about religion and all, but
this is just a side of my thinking process on what
does it mean to be a woman. I grew up with four
sisters and dealt with plenty of crazy women,
namely my mother, but I still can’t make up what
the hell are they thinking or how do they think.
Luckily I am crazy myself, so I think I might find
some woman who is crazy enough to maybe understand
my problem with understanding humans in general
and women in particular. And of the problem of
finding somebody like the Virgin Mary, I think in
according to the Islamic view, it shouldn’t be
that hard, at least one could hope, or maybe I’ll
marry the woman of my dreams which is seemingly as
impossible as finding somebody like the Virgin
Mary.
the problem of measuring up women to the Virgin
Mary. I know it is very weird but every time I
read about her in the Quran I think this is how
women should be. And I am so stubborn that it
seemed I would never marry any one because no one
would ever measure up to the Virgin Mary. However,
my understanding of the character of the Virgin
Mary defers from that of the Christen view. I
don’t picture her to be some god like woman with a
halo around her head nursing baby Jesus. I think
of Mary, peace may be upon her, as a woman who
believed in the promise of God and despite all her
suffering she stood fast to what she believed to
be the truth. One of my favorite passages in the
Quran is where the story of the birth of Mariam
(Mary in Arabic) is narrated. I promise I am not
trying to be preachy about religion and all, but
this is just a side of my thinking process on what
does it mean to be a woman. I grew up with four
sisters and dealt with plenty of crazy women,
namely my mother, but I still can’t make up what
the hell are they thinking or how do they think.
Luckily I am crazy myself, so I think I might find
some woman who is crazy enough to maybe understand
my problem with understanding humans in general
and women in particular. And of the problem of
finding somebody like the Virgin Mary, I think in
according to the Islamic view, it shouldn’t be
that hard, at least one could hope, or maybe I’ll
marry the woman of my dreams which is seemingly as
impossible as finding somebody like the Virgin
Mary.
Pretty Lips
Pretty Lips
Pretty lips, who do you answer to?
"This world belongs to Shiva,
This line divides our worlds,
In yours, death is an old man
Who puts you inside holes.
In our world, he is an old man
Who hangs you from a tree
With white shiny teeth
And a rope that sets you free"
Let us run away
To the forest and the wild
Where we could pick our tree
Running naked ‘til we’re tired
Killing time, because we’re free
Pretty lips answers:
"You’re the sun in my life you see,
I want to wrap around you
Like custard on a cherry
Make your dreams come true
Let me taste your fantasy"
In my cup,
Turkish coffee makes a scene
Among the black lines
A mad sea sweeps us away.
Drift wood
Soaked and blackened
Turn off the light
I am afraid he might see
Amongst these dead stumps
Among these spastic thumps
I hang from a tree.
Pretty lips, who do you answer to?
"This world belongs to Shiva,
This line divides our worlds,
In yours, death is an old man
Who puts you inside holes.
In our world, he is an old man
Who hangs you from a tree
With white shiny teeth
And a rope that sets you free"
Let us run away
To the forest and the wild
Where we could pick our tree
Running naked ‘til we’re tired
Killing time, because we’re free
Pretty lips answers:
"You’re the sun in my life you see,
I want to wrap around you
Like custard on a cherry
Make your dreams come true
Let me taste your fantasy"
In my cup,
Turkish coffee makes a scene
Among the black lines
A mad sea sweeps us away.
Drift wood
Soaked and blackened
Turn off the light
I am afraid he might see
Amongst these dead stumps
Among these spastic thumps
I hang from a tree.
Never Mind
Never Mind
It’s for this and that and whatnot.
It’s not to you nor to me the fault falls.
It is the calling of the hummingbird.
The swinging of the golden sun.
And the moon and the stars.
Also this and that.
And now you’re mad.
Never mind the times you
hanged me as a worthless hat.
Oh no never mind.
Never mind this
and that.
this
is
(not)
the
It’s for this and that and whatnot.
It’s not to you nor to me the fault falls.
It is the calling of the hummingbird.
The swinging of the golden sun.
And the moon and the stars.
Also this and that.
And now you’re mad.
Never mind the times you
hanged me as a worthless hat.
Oh no never mind.
Never mind this
and that.
this
is
(not)
the
end
Misty Fig Tree
Misty Fig Tree
Funny that rain knows when to fall.
i'll hide with the rain drops
Softly falling to the ground.
The fall has no end.
The fig tree in the morning mist,
Soft ample leaves and her twisted branches
sway with the breeze,
Gently dancing to the nightingale's song.
Her jewels hang on her side,
Emeralds and rubies,
Mocking the jealous morning star.
An evergreen lady faded in white.
Queen of the early dawn.
A Colossus of immense beauty and divine.
There she was.
Shiny as after summer rain.
shocking as a rushing train
Confusion overthrew my brain.
What am i to say?
How do i begin?
That's not her.
That is not her.
She doesn't want you.
She'll never want you.
She now rises up the stairs.
Fleeing the fires of my hell,
of my stare.
A rip runs up my chest.
i would say i am sorry
but i know you won't give me the chanse
So i'll be riding this mocking horse alone.
wanting that which dosn't want me,
that won't walk with me at dawn.
Dance with me to the nightingale's song.
Funny that rain knows when to fall.
i'll hide with the rain drops
Softly falling to the ground.
The fall has no end.
The fig tree in the morning mist,
Soft ample leaves and her twisted branches
sway with the breeze,
Gently dancing to the nightingale's song.
Her jewels hang on her side,
Emeralds and rubies,
Mocking the jealous morning star.
An evergreen lady faded in white.
Queen of the early dawn.
A Colossus of immense beauty and divine.
There she was.
Shiny as after summer rain.
shocking as a rushing train
Confusion overthrew my brain.
What am i to say?
How do i begin?
That's not her.
That is not her.
She doesn't want you.
She'll never want you.
She now rises up the stairs.
Fleeing the fires of my hell,
of my stare.
A rip runs up my chest.
i would say i am sorry
but i know you won't give me the chanse
So i'll be riding this mocking horse alone.
wanting that which dosn't want me,
that won't walk with me at dawn.
Dance with me to the nightingale's song.
Xmas Blues and The Broken Thoughts
They called, come have lunch with us, come feast
with us. I don’t answer. Turn off the phone today.
I’ll stay home, don’t want to see any more faces
today. Lock myself in my own prison. Time will
fly. No I won’t come out today. I’ll starve myself
of holiday spirits, of this green and red
feelings. But I grow hungry in the end. I drive
down the dark streets with the shut shops, all is
rejoicing, all is full of spirit except for me. I
know where to go, quick trip, plenty of lost souls
there. Hungry mobs swarm the place. How are you
doing brothers and sisters? How are your empty
stomachs and hearts? Plenty of gray faces here.
Plenty of lost causes as well. I drive back to the
dungeon with my xmas dinner. Two Burritos, two
bags of Doritos and a bottle of plum green tea.
What a better time to break the habit of good
food, of good hope. I grow worry and heavy in the
heart. I’ll just run off to California no one will
miss me here. I pile my trash on the floor. Don’t
need anything else do I? Why am I running away
again? This will be too easy to be true. Not
today. I’ll weather it out. "are you still
available?" for you my darling, I will never be.
And I lay in the tub thinking, the curtain closed
and the water drained, what is there left to do?
I woke up today with a song playing in my head,
Nude, one of hers. "if I ask you to run away with
me would you do it?" why not? that would be a
change in the night. I will only destroy you.
"what if we elope?" I will let you down girl,
trust me. you really won’t want that. "it’s
snowing, the water renewal for the soul" not for
this one I promise. "I can wait for you a bit
longer" eternity is not any longer my friend. "no
worries love" I always wished so.
I’ll go have the food of the soul, a cigar and two
cups of espresso mocchiato. Nothing can survive
this atrocity of bitter sorrow. Even the bitter
cold at my fingers and toes start to fade away. My
head heavy with smoke. No more feelings. The ashes
hit the ground. I want to follow them. Fade away
as the smoke I blow.
"when the music is over" by the doors plays, the
rhythm and the lyrics start to glow, they start to
fill the cold air outside the coffee house. I want
to be part of you. A hart beat is still felt, or
is it some one else’s in this cage of ribs. The
big hush never comes. "Where is the feast we’ve
been promised." Even my dreams start to fail me.
If war doesn't kill you, plenty of other things
will. The heat at my tong indulges me, the next
puff will be my last. I’m not that lucky.
"You are the moon and the sun to him, he loves
you, he talks about you more than his own father."
I’ll only disappoint him as the world disappoints
me. Trust me, you don't want that.
The man walking by walks slow. I could draw his
soul in the air. You walking by slow, Stop!!! And
the conversation in the background, "you know that
old women smell..." so slow and vivid. The tap on
the mic, "check check" then music. I close my
eyes, Darkness... And then I threw up.
with us. I don’t answer. Turn off the phone today.
I’ll stay home, don’t want to see any more faces
today. Lock myself in my own prison. Time will
fly. No I won’t come out today. I’ll starve myself
of holiday spirits, of this green and red
feelings. But I grow hungry in the end. I drive
down the dark streets with the shut shops, all is
rejoicing, all is full of spirit except for me. I
know where to go, quick trip, plenty of lost souls
there. Hungry mobs swarm the place. How are you
doing brothers and sisters? How are your empty
stomachs and hearts? Plenty of gray faces here.
Plenty of lost causes as well. I drive back to the
dungeon with my xmas dinner. Two Burritos, two
bags of Doritos and a bottle of plum green tea.
What a better time to break the habit of good
food, of good hope. I grow worry and heavy in the
heart. I’ll just run off to California no one will
miss me here. I pile my trash on the floor. Don’t
need anything else do I? Why am I running away
again? This will be too easy to be true. Not
today. I’ll weather it out. "are you still
available?" for you my darling, I will never be.
And I lay in the tub thinking, the curtain closed
and the water drained, what is there left to do?
I woke up today with a song playing in my head,
Nude, one of hers. "if I ask you to run away with
me would you do it?" why not? that would be a
change in the night. I will only destroy you.
"what if we elope?" I will let you down girl,
trust me. you really won’t want that. "it’s
snowing, the water renewal for the soul" not for
this one I promise. "I can wait for you a bit
longer" eternity is not any longer my friend. "no
worries love" I always wished so.
I’ll go have the food of the soul, a cigar and two
cups of espresso mocchiato. Nothing can survive
this atrocity of bitter sorrow. Even the bitter
cold at my fingers and toes start to fade away. My
head heavy with smoke. No more feelings. The ashes
hit the ground. I want to follow them. Fade away
as the smoke I blow.
"when the music is over" by the doors plays, the
rhythm and the lyrics start to glow, they start to
fill the cold air outside the coffee house. I want
to be part of you. A hart beat is still felt, or
is it some one else’s in this cage of ribs. The
big hush never comes. "Where is the feast we’ve
been promised." Even my dreams start to fail me.
If war doesn't kill you, plenty of other things
will. The heat at my tong indulges me, the next
puff will be my last. I’m not that lucky.
"You are the moon and the sun to him, he loves
you, he talks about you more than his own father."
I’ll only disappoint him as the world disappoints
me. Trust me, you don't want that.
The man walking by walks slow. I could draw his
soul in the air. You walking by slow, Stop!!! And
the conversation in the background, "you know that
old women smell..." so slow and vivid. The tap on
the mic, "check check" then music. I close my
eyes, Darkness... And then I threw up.
Dinner
Dinner
I woke up feeling dirty today
Did you feel the swarm?
Saved me from a cold suicide,
Strung me,
beaten me,
chopped my limbs
Served me in a hot bowl of
homicide.
I am an amputee,
Hopelessly ignorant
to What has been lost.
Only ligaments mark the sight.
Bleeding as I get tossed.
Incapable of more dreams,
Incapable of night time swings.
I am a stillborn child
To a rotting cadaver,
Still cursed by life
Injected out
by Postmortem convulsions.
The filth, the stench,
The pretty things,
my dear,
Banished by a dark fire,
Smokeless and cold.
Whom do these insides belong to?
This filth that makes up this
form
Mother, look to what have i
become
In three weeks.
A bowl,
a stain and a spoon,
Even a heart on the kitchen
stool,
Still beating, still bleeding.
An effigy.
I woke up feeling dirty today
Did you feel the swarm?
Saved me from a cold suicide,
Strung me,
beaten me,
chopped my limbs
Served me in a hot bowl of
homicide.
I am an amputee,
Hopelessly ignorant
to What has been lost.
Only ligaments mark the sight.
Bleeding as I get tossed.
Incapable of more dreams,
Incapable of night time swings.
I am a stillborn child
To a rotting cadaver,
Still cursed by life
Injected out
by Postmortem convulsions.
The filth, the stench,
The pretty things,
my dear,
Banished by a dark fire,
Smokeless and cold.
Whom do these insides belong to?
This filth that makes up this
form
Mother, look to what have i
become
In three weeks.
A bowl,
a stain and a spoon,
Even a heart on the kitchen
stool,
Still beating, still bleeding.
An effigy.
Still
Still
The smoke still rises
The killers are still free
Cars still hiss by like dreams
Cherry Street still bleeds
Moths still burn in the candle light
Body bags still fall from the sky
The crickets are still insane
Mind your own mind
I never promised you anything
Burn the edges
I really don’t care
Bride of the night
Would be nice to talk
I am still horrified
Spectators are still screaming
More blood, more blood
Where are we going?
To the edge of the sun
Purge us good lord
Save us from ourselves
We are still here
We turn to the moon
"You are alone"
Did the sun come out today?
I don’t know
Why don’t you ask the T.V.?
We are what we chose to be
Pigs lined up in the slaughterhouse
Waiting for the knife to set us free
The smoke still rises
The killers are still free
Cars still hiss by like dreams
Cherry Street still bleeds
Moths still burn in the candle light
Body bags still fall from the sky
The crickets are still insane
Mind your own mind
I never promised you anything
Burn the edges
I really don’t care
Bride of the night
Would be nice to talk
I am still horrified
Spectators are still screaming
More blood, more blood
Where are we going?
To the edge of the sun
Purge us good lord
Save us from ourselves
We are still here
We turn to the moon
"You are alone"
Did the sun come out today?
I don’t know
Why don’t you ask the T.V.?
We are what we chose to be
Pigs lined up in the slaughterhouse
Waiting for the knife to set us free
Full Moon over Newport Beach
The waters of the Pacific were modestly calm
except for few brave waves that wondered towards
the shore, flickering in their path the light of
the Queen of the night. The Moon was full in her
grace and beauty, dancing in the sky with patches
of gray cotton clouds, like a madam dancing among
her servants, not giving a care to the world,
caring not for my gazing eyes, she danced to the
soothing song of the pacific, the never ending
song of joy, love, and beauty.
Sitting there I was pondering the thought that the
creator of the moon and the sky, the oceans and
the stars, created me as well. We all come from
the same origin. I felt like I was watching my
brother, my mother and my best friend dancing and
singing before my eyes. We all are creatures,
servants and slaves to the one and only God.
I continued to sit there marveling at this
musical, this true feast. The bitter cold of the
amazing night, that beautiful dark princess, may
seem as a sufficient reason to stay in my sleeping
bag, to stay warm and dry. But I couldn’t resist.
I quickly stripped to my shorts and ran to the
ocean, I ran to my brother, I ran to immerse my
self in the galvanizing silver water, I ran to be
one with my family.
The water was cold; it caused a bit of a shock
too, then, nothing but pure excitement and thrill.
The water was dark but flickered with silver rays.
I never felt alone, I was swimming with the Queen
of the night, I was part of the ocean among my
family. “Forget the world” they sang. “Forget the
misery and pain; let us heal your heart. Who cares
what people think, you are with us now. Forget
your tears, abandon your fears. We are here. We
are your true brothers.”
And I dove in the silver water, opened my eyes not
caring for how much it may sting. Bands of silver
rays flickered though the surface, they flickered
with a joyful dance. And there was silence, not
even the voices in my head dared to speak in this
magnificent presence, nothing but pure nature. I
was one with the rest of them. I truly felt at
home. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to stay in
this heaven for eternity. My chest ached for air,
I was being pulled back to the mad world, to the
hateful bloody world. I fought it, but it grew
stronger and harder. And I emerged, a feeling of
joy and pain rushed over me. I knew it couldn’t
last.
I found my home. There is always some one to hear
my crazy thoughts, my painful sobs. They will sing
to me and never complain or think I’m insane. It’s
the sea and the queen of the night, the queen who
will always shine her gentle rays, singing to me
with her beauty all through my lonely nights. You
are my true friends. I love you.
except for few brave waves that wondered towards
the shore, flickering in their path the light of
the Queen of the night. The Moon was full in her
grace and beauty, dancing in the sky with patches
of gray cotton clouds, like a madam dancing among
her servants, not giving a care to the world,
caring not for my gazing eyes, she danced to the
soothing song of the pacific, the never ending
song of joy, love, and beauty.
Sitting there I was pondering the thought that the
creator of the moon and the sky, the oceans and
the stars, created me as well. We all come from
the same origin. I felt like I was watching my
brother, my mother and my best friend dancing and
singing before my eyes. We all are creatures,
servants and slaves to the one and only God.
I continued to sit there marveling at this
musical, this true feast. The bitter cold of the
amazing night, that beautiful dark princess, may
seem as a sufficient reason to stay in my sleeping
bag, to stay warm and dry. But I couldn’t resist.
I quickly stripped to my shorts and ran to the
ocean, I ran to my brother, I ran to immerse my
self in the galvanizing silver water, I ran to be
one with my family.
The water was cold; it caused a bit of a shock
too, then, nothing but pure excitement and thrill.
The water was dark but flickered with silver rays.
I never felt alone, I was swimming with the Queen
of the night, I was part of the ocean among my
family. “Forget the world” they sang. “Forget the
misery and pain; let us heal your heart. Who cares
what people think, you are with us now. Forget
your tears, abandon your fears. We are here. We
are your true brothers.”
And I dove in the silver water, opened my eyes not
caring for how much it may sting. Bands of silver
rays flickered though the surface, they flickered
with a joyful dance. And there was silence, not
even the voices in my head dared to speak in this
magnificent presence, nothing but pure nature. I
was one with the rest of them. I truly felt at
home. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to stay in
this heaven for eternity. My chest ached for air,
I was being pulled back to the mad world, to the
hateful bloody world. I fought it, but it grew
stronger and harder. And I emerged, a feeling of
joy and pain rushed over me. I knew it couldn’t
last.
I found my home. There is always some one to hear
my crazy thoughts, my painful sobs. They will sing
to me and never complain or think I’m insane. It’s
the sea and the queen of the night, the queen who
will always shine her gentle rays, singing to me
with her beauty all through my lonely nights. You
are my true friends. I love you.
Blue
Blue
Why are you so blue?
I can't see you
You're in the dark
Thinking of pulling the trigger
Your cheeks are wet
Your tears are red
So why are you so sad
You should be glad
You're free
Just like you want to be
Did she really shatter your heart?
Let me go dear death
It's not time yet
I just want to go to sleep.
Please let me go
I don't want to know
I try, I truly try.
Then you call me to kill me
Well you did it my friend, you did it
Why are you so blue?
I can't see you
You're in the dark
Thinking of pulling the trigger
Your cheeks are wet
Your tears are red
So why are you so sad
You should be glad
You're free
Just like you want to be
Did she really shatter your heart?
Let me go dear death
It's not time yet
I just want to go to sleep.
Please let me go
I don't want to know
I try, I truly try.
Then you call me to kill me
Well you did it my friend, you did it
Snuffy
Snuffy
This Hysteria is the manifestation
of my fear of you
What is, could not truly be what it is
If the sun is gold
then why are we so cold?
What makes a man a man?
Is it his love or is it his hate
And I strain,
wondering how could you be so cold
I see you with your hands bounded, bleeding
Pleading for help
you know you like it
Stop your cry and play.
Let your feelings sway
Or let them climb this treacheries wall
you call security and independence.
So hopeful you are to see me smile, let it go
Like a bow, the harder you pull
the more it cuts through your fingers
What is inside that makes me throw myself
to human discontent?
The way you are is buried inside.
so go home, go to your dog snuffy
Maybe he'll see you for what you are
The far cry was heard.
Time has come to say goodbye
Farewell my friend
hope you'll do well in your maze of sorrow
And you wonder why I hate you,
why I can't stand you
Read my lips and learn,
you are a thorn.
I hope you burn the way I burn
You make my day with rumination sway.
and I play, saying you could be my wife
You could take my hand and say:
"I can't stand you you pathetic little shit,
I hope you die and rot in hell you pathetic dog.
and I hate you."
I love you too
This Hysteria is the manifestation
of my fear of you
What is, could not truly be what it is
If the sun is gold
then why are we so cold?
What makes a man a man?
Is it his love or is it his hate
And I strain,
wondering how could you be so cold
I see you with your hands bounded, bleeding
Pleading for help
you know you like it
Stop your cry and play.
Let your feelings sway
Or let them climb this treacheries wall
you call security and independence.
So hopeful you are to see me smile, let it go
Like a bow, the harder you pull
the more it cuts through your fingers
What is inside that makes me throw myself
to human discontent?
The way you are is buried inside.
so go home, go to your dog snuffy
Maybe he'll see you for what you are
The far cry was heard.
Time has come to say goodbye
Farewell my friend
hope you'll do well in your maze of sorrow
And you wonder why I hate you,
why I can't stand you
Read my lips and learn,
you are a thorn.
I hope you burn the way I burn
You make my day with rumination sway.
and I play, saying you could be my wife
You could take my hand and say:
"I can't stand you you pathetic little shit,
I hope you die and rot in hell you pathetic dog.
and I hate you."
I love you too
Something is Burning Inside
Something is burning inside
the pain is growing stronger and deeper
I fall speechless to your mockery
seduce me with your eyes
then leave me in the dark, hanging
I know you didn't intend for it to happen
but I fell in love with you
and I can't stand it
Your mythical eyes, your killer smile
stabbing at my heart
just to leave me bleed in vain
I want to get up and tell you,
I can't stand you
I want to hate you,
but I can't stop loving you
I want to smother you
with the same mystification you smother me in
yet I freeze when I'm around you
My heart is stopping me and pushing me
to leave, to cry, to bleed, to love you
What have I done to deserve your cold brutality
and this agonizing pain in my heart?
Then you smile, and I stand there Petrified
not knowing whether to smile
or cry at your unbearable malice
What could I do? I can't help it
I love you to death with every fiber of my essence
Hell, I'll go take a piss
maybe that'll get you out of my system
the pain is growing stronger and deeper
I fall speechless to your mockery
seduce me with your eyes
then leave me in the dark, hanging
I know you didn't intend for it to happen
but I fell in love with you
and I can't stand it
Your mythical eyes, your killer smile
stabbing at my heart
just to leave me bleed in vain
I want to get up and tell you,
I can't stand you
I want to hate you,
but I can't stop loving you
I want to smother you
with the same mystification you smother me in
yet I freeze when I'm around you
My heart is stopping me and pushing me
to leave, to cry, to bleed, to love you
What have I done to deserve your cold brutality
and this agonizing pain in my heart?
Then you smile, and I stand there Petrified
not knowing whether to smile
or cry at your unbearable malice
What could I do? I can't help it
I love you to death with every fiber of my essence
Hell, I'll go take a piss
maybe that'll get you out of my system
everything else failed
A Lover in my Head
"A Lover in my Head"
I love you
So little does the word hold
for what I feel for you
The frantic rhythm of my heart
assures me my Love for you is true
I picture us holding hands connecting lips
singing songs growing old or dieing hard
But you have a man to hold your hand
connect lips and wipe your tears
Inside of me I cry, I bleed, I hope and I dream
Why cruel fate do you tear my soul apart
and persist on breaking my heart
And I dream, seeing you by my side,
telling me everything is alright, my Lover
But your not who I picture you to be,
throwing hints at me, telling me
... I'm not yours
I hate you with your sweet poison of a smile
I wish I could disappear and never have ever been
I wish my heart would stop killing me
with its longing rhythm, the rhythm of Love
Hoping you could be mine,
hoping you'll call me Lover and hold my hand
So I could see the sunshine in your face
and call you Lover
Stars shine in your eyes, sparkling with joy,
with life, with Love
But your eyes are telling me
... I'm not yours
Maybe I'll see you in my arms,
to feel your warmth,
so your heart beat could ease my own
Maybe we'll run through daisy fields like children,
holding hands and sharing lips,
whispering in my ear... I Love you too
Maybe with the wind blowing through your hair,
I'll wake up with a bullet through my head
I love you
So little does the word hold
for what I feel for you
The frantic rhythm of my heart
assures me my Love for you is true
I picture us holding hands connecting lips
singing songs growing old or dieing hard
But you have a man to hold your hand
connect lips and wipe your tears
Inside of me I cry, I bleed, I hope and I dream
Why cruel fate do you tear my soul apart
and persist on breaking my heart
And I dream, seeing you by my side,
telling me everything is alright, my Lover
But your not who I picture you to be,
throwing hints at me, telling me
... I'm not yours
I hate you with your sweet poison of a smile
I wish I could disappear and never have ever been
I wish my heart would stop killing me
with its longing rhythm, the rhythm of Love
Hoping you could be mine,
hoping you'll call me Lover and hold my hand
So I could see the sunshine in your face
and call you Lover
Stars shine in your eyes, sparkling with joy,
with life, with Love
But your eyes are telling me
... I'm not yours
Maybe I'll see you in my arms,
to feel your warmth,
so your heart beat could ease my own
Maybe we'll run through daisy fields like children,
holding hands and sharing lips,
whispering in my ear... I Love you too
Maybe with the wind blowing through your hair,
I'll wake up with a bullet through my head
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