Monthly Archives: July 2012


I didn’t write this, but it moved me, so here:

Oh Allah
Help me to uphold the truth against tyrants;
and prevent me from advocating injustice to gain the applause of the weak

Oh Allah
If you make me rich
Do not deprive me of happiness

If you grant me strength,
Do not take away my mental faculties

If you make me successful,
Do not deprive me of my modesty

If you make me modest,
Do not deprive me of my pride and dignity

Oh Allah
Teach me to love others
As much as I love myself

Teach me to judge myself
Before I judge others

Teach me that tolerance is the greatest strength
And that vengeance is the first sign of weakness

Oh Allah
If you grant me success,
Don’t blind me by vanity

Do not make me despair if I fail,
Please let me always remember that failure precedes success

Oh Allah
If you deprive me of my wealth,
Do not let me despair

If you take away my success,
Give me the strength to overcome failure

If you deprive me of good health,
Do not deprive me of faith

Oh Allah
If I hurt others,
Give me the strength to apologize

If people hurt me,
Give me the strength to forgive

If I am oblivious to Thee,
Do not deprive me
Of Your Forgiveness and Patience

Oh Allah
You are the All-Powerful,
All-Merciful and All-Capable



A: You’re madder than a hatter!

B: But I AM a hatter!

A: Then you should get another job

B: Like what??

A: Why should you bother, you’re mad anyway.

B: What the hell?!

A: What? What are you saying? Sorry, I don’t speak mad.


[Its come to a point where I can’t tell which voice belongs to who, nor which is my own]


A: It’s too bad all the good guys are either taken or gay, huh…

B: But I’m both!

A: Ew, ewewewewew


Climbing the ladder of hypocracy, moving into darkness to achieve new heights. Stain of ink on a crumpled piece of parchment forever there, picture perfect stain. Silent and maniacal, a little diabolical. Dark corners are made for planning and stewing, or sewing, sewing up the lips of watchers threatening to speak. All this bloodspill and sharpening of blades, they will culminate in the singing of my song from one peak of the toppest mountain of sins and broken hopes and spines. Only when I am there, only when I have fate in my hands only when men bow down to me. Only then will I put up my gilded sword whose hilt has many a time met the breastbones of metaphorical men and women who littered my path with their presence. That, and their righteousness, which is, simply put, the very antithesis of me. Me? I was once a man too, but I grew too large for the idea of servitude and weakness. I alone thirsted for greatness and unholy power. And so as a man I had to claw my way up, to reach this place. This place where I look back and laugh, look at my reflection and ask how I could change inwardly and outwardly, by so MUCH! Then I look up again, and curse. Swimming in lakes of tar, black as my heart, silent as my conscience.



You may have wondered,
Out loud or in whisper
The reason for the
Closing of doors.
My father once said
[Between cigar puffs
And caviar on crusty
Crispy focaccia plates
The perhaps too
Similar to narrow
Good and his own too]
That around salty
dreams and the vapour
of history’s ships
Tiny worms of great
Luminescence to
Stretch out to fly



Mental Reciprocation invites Physical Collaboration

Social Aversion prevents Spiritual Confusion

Linguistic Negation leads to Communicative Destruction



I was walking home late one night when I heard a strange voice behind me. I was scared, but I didn’t turn around because I imagined that’s what you would’ve told me to do, had you been there.

When I was rejected by my first crush I felt horrible inside. Honestly I might have cried, I don’t know why, but I managed to keep it cool. I didn’t tell you, but I guess you knew anyway.

Before I stepped onstage for the school performance, I imagined you sitting in the crowd smiling at me. But of course, from the stage you only see blackness; but the thought of you calmed me anyway.

Somehow you’re always there when I need you. But a part of me can’t stop wishing that I’d been a better son. Everyone says it’s not my fault, but I think if I had loved you more, I would be able to remember how life was with you, before the accident. I wish I could remember your face. I don’t care that I lost my arm, I’d give all my limbs to just, at least, recall your smile or your voice. Or anything. I don’t care, I just wish you were here again 😦


There was a scientist man
Who had a brilliant plan
He wanted to do something
To stop the people laughing
‘My first real invention…
The pride of our nation!’
And in a great frenzy
His equipment was ready.
He didn’t sleep a week
Worked and didn’t speak
Finally t’was ready…
His amazing machine.
With a smile and a chuckle
And relieved sigh (ahh yes)
He stepped up to the controls
And pushed the red button
Of his amazing invention…
…A black hole machine.


There was once an old man who lived in the corner
of Seventy-Fourth and Spring.
Quiet and pale, he kept to himself,
and to no one did he say a thing.
‘Curious old fella’, that’s what they said,
the people of the town about him.
And after some time and years gone by,
They stopped trying talking to him.
One Sunday morning as he walked through the market,
(Briskly and eyes on the floor)
he spotted a madman laughing and talking
to nobody but himself.
“Oh why am I here, who are they there,
I wish I could be with the stars,”
Something about those cryptic words said,
struck deep in the heart of the man.
Without buying his vegetables nor other foods,
he turned round and walked quick back home.
For one whole week his door not once creaked,
and people thought the old man had died!
But on the next Monday,
a beautiful Monday,
He stepped out all shaved and clean.
Neatly pressed clothes and hair nicely combed,
he wore the most magnificent of smiles.
“Good morning young man!”
said he to the milkman,
whose shock was scarcely hid.
And finally when words found their way
once more, to his mouth, so did he speak.
“Good sir! I say, ’tis a delight!
I’ve never seen you so happy!
And for the first time I hear your voice,
and God, do you sound merry!
What happened good sir,
why change you now, when all this time,
you never smiled, and always were silent and moody?”
“Ah young man, ’tis curious indeed,
but answer your question I will.
‘Twas sad and wasteful, oh how regretful…
…That I had forgot how to live.”
With his smile still wide and a tear in his eye,
went the old man to the market.
We hope you had not forgot
that he still had to buy his groceries!

But more than that, and in his heart,
was a thanks he needed to give.
And who be it for, but the madman he saw,
who had reminded him of what he missed…